Prologue
Prologue
I swore Leah’s suitcases were taunting me, all perfectly lined up next to the door. Waiting. They could have ripped my heart out of my chest like a demon in a horror flick and presented it to me with a vicious, demoralizing howl of laughter, and it wouldn’t have hurt any less.
“You don’t have to go.” I couldn’t quite bring myself to make eye contact.
“I do. And we both know it,” she replied, her voice lacking any of its usual Leah-ness.
After all these years, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this crappy—the perpetual pit in my stomach, the pangs of anxiety, and of course, there were the tears. These days, they seemed to appear more and more frequently.
“When will you be back?” I attempted to withhold the whininess.
And failed miserably.
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “But I will be okay.”
“I know you will.”
Though she claimed she was heading to Los Angeles to help the Stantons with an investigation, she’d packed most of her belongings.
“This isn’t about you, AJ,” she replied after a moment. This time, there was a hint of emotion behind it, though it did little to relieve the feelings of loss, pain, and remorse.
I glanced at her, frowning—we both hated the whole “it isn’t you, it’s me” cliché—apparently, my facial expressions hadn’t improved as we both chuckled, replying in sync, “Yes, it is.”
“I just need to feel—”
“Safe,” I replied, finishing her thought.
She didn’t reply, and I didn’t need her to. We both knew the score.
Instead, she pivoted to a recent event—one of too many—that had brought us here. “That was cool of Ramirez…with the cop.”
I nodded, knowing that she was referencing my ex-boyfriend s***h homicide detective’s effort to keep my biological father’s true identity under wraps when the crap hit the fan.
“I also appreciate the fact that you didn’t divulge the details to anyone…about Jere.” Another boyfriend—hers—that had become a casualty of the war that had somehow managed to take up residence in our lives.
I glanced at her. “I said I wouldn’t.”
“Ramirez assured me of the same, despite the fact he’s probably kicking himself for making that promise—always wanting to be the dude to ride in and save the day.” She mimicked a guy holding his hat while riding a horse.
“He’s kind of like that.” I laughed.
“You two been talking?” she asked.
“Not since the hospital.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. “Do you…want to?”
I shrugged. “I’d rather have him as a friend than as an enemy.”
“Wise choice.”
We both chuckled again, and when the laughter fell away, I still felt there was something I needed to address.
“I heard you broke it off with Jere.” When she tilted her head, I added, “Ramirez told me.”
She rolled her eyes and, after a moment, responded, “It didn’t feel right having a secret between us.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Will you tell him?” Perhaps I had no right asking, but I was curious if she would tell Jere about his true lineage. I wasn’t entirely sure what I would do in her shoes.
She shrugged. “If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Second.”
“Right. Second.” She laughed, this time, it sounded heartfelt, which gave me hope. “In the meantime, I have a parting gift.”
I quirked a brow. “Shouldn’t I be giving you the gift?”
She chuckled. “Perhaps you should review my offering first.”
She extended her hand, passing me a slip of paper with a local phone number and a name.
Maria Reynolds.
When I glanced at her in confusion, she continued, “It’s about time you started looking into Decker’s request to expose her mother’s killer. And finally, bring her some justice.”
Before I could protest, she added, “It’s the name of the woman who used to babysit for Decker while her mother and father were at work.” I c****d my head, surely there was more?
My friend did not disappoint.
“But that’s not what makes Ms. Reynolds interesting. At least not entirely. She used to serve as the personal assistant—pretty much a glorified housekeeper—of a prominent criminal attorney’s wife. On the night Decker’s mom was murdered, she allegedly reported seeing this man enter the apartment shortly after dark and emerge twenty-eight minutes later, covered in blood.”
“Terrence Edwards,” I murmured. “But twenty-eight minutes? Seems pretty exact. Wait—what do you mean by ‘allegedly’? She either saw something, or she didn’t.”
“Didn’t,” she replied. “Maria Reynolds didn’t make the call, and they never found out who did.”
I nodded. “I’ll admit, that’s…odd. But if that’s the case, other than working for Edwards, how is she relevant to solving Decker’s mom’s murder?”
“Because Decker wasn’t the only witness to the atrocities her mother endured.”
“No…” My mouth went dry, my heart thumping against my chest.
As Leah collected her suitcases, she glanced over her shoulder to reveal the remainder of this parting gift.
“Maria Reynolds’ young daughter, Danielle, spent the evening playing in the apartment of her best friend, who lived across the hall, on the same floor. That best friend just happened to be…”
“Kelly Decker,” I whispered, as she offered me a single head nod before walking out the door.
