Chapter Twenty-Nine

The fluorescent tubes buzzed overhead, the sterile light reflecting off the polished steel surface of the table. The room was basically a cube. It had purposefully been designed to be devoid of comfort. There was no odor whatsoever, and the temperature was neither cold nor warm without a ripple in the air.

All was still.

Jacob had lost count of the number of times that he had been seated in this very spot over the past year. Longer, actually. His days and nights were turning into a monotonous cycle that he had not intended to take place. It had gotten to the point where even his daily shit happened at the same time.

It was obvious that he had underestimated his sister.

Brook had evolved into a formidable adversary. It was a transformation that he would never openly acknowledge. She had always been tenacious, even as a little girl. She couldn't stand not knowing what had made them turn out so differently. He comprehended the basic truth, though—they were much more alike than she was willing to admit.

Another minute had passed, and Jacob still sat immobile in the chair. The handcuffs around his wrists were anchored to the eyehook bolted into the table. The same had been done with the chain between his ankles. Such precautions were insulting, but there was little he could do about it right now. Brook had managed to subvert his objectives to escape federal prison multiple times.

The heavy door finally swung open, but it wasn't his sister who crossed the threshold. Jacob slowly curled his fingers into his fists as his irritation began to morph into rage. He never would have done something so obvious in front of Brook, and the federal prosecutor who had entered the room didn't have the acumen to notice.

"Don't bother sitting." The sharp scent of the man's aftershave left a bad taste in Jacob's mouth. "You can leave."

The prosecutor paused mid-motion, but he eventually placed his briefcase on the table. The wedding band on his finger was wider than the smile on his face as he introduced himself, but Jacob discarded the man's name. There was no need to remember it.

"I'm here to formally charge you with the murder of Stella Bennett. You'll be given time to reach out to your previous legal counsel, hire a new attorney, or be represented by a public—"

"I'm only going to say this once." Jacob's declaration halted the prosecutor midsentence. "If you don't leave this room right now, I will find your wife and peel the flesh from her face in thin strips and mail them to you one by one. And when I'm done with her, I'll start hunting down every woman you've ever fucked. Is your mother still alive?"

The prosecutor was intelligent enough to heed Jacob's warning. The man picked up his briefcase and then walked toward the door. His stride wasn't as graceful as it had been entering the room. He used his fist to bang against the heavy exit to alert the guard on the other side that his time had come to an end.

"Before you decide on legal counsel, you should know that the death penalty will be on the table."

Jacob remained motionless as the man"s footsteps receded down the hallway. The guard closed the door, though he would be back momentarily to escort Jacob back to his cell. He rested his palms flat on the cool steel surface of the table to center himself.

Brook hadn't delivered the news herself. It was her way of informing him that she had washed her hands clean of the past. In the time that he had voluntarily put himself behind bars for the purpose of finishing what he started—draining the life from Sarah Evanston's body—his sister had made a feeble attempt at piecing together a life.

Well, it was his turn to send her a message.

Jacob focused on a singular thought that had kept him sane during his incarceration—his fail-safe plan. It was a strategy that he had never expected to use, because he had never allowed himself to believe that Brook would discover Stella Bennett's remains.

Still, he had been wise enough to plan for every contingency.

The prosecutor had been right about one thing. Jacob needed a lawyer, but not just any lawyer. There was only one who could implement a new path. One that led not through a courtroom, but to freedom.

~ The End ~

Dive into the next thrilling installment of the Touch of Evil series by USA Today Bestselling Author Kennedy Layne…

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Is anyone ever truly prepared to face the sins of their past?

Jordan Miles, revered CEO of Miles Therapeutics, finds himself at the center of a scandal when he is arrested for his wife's murder. Determined to salvage his reputation and prove his innocence, he turns to the one person he believes can hunt down the real killer.

Enter Brooklyn Sloane, a former FBI profiler who has spent her career tracking serial murderers. While she typically steers clear of ongoing investigations, her personal friendship with Jordan compels her to take the case. The police allege that Jordan shot his wife point blank during an argument in their bedroom, but Brook doesn't believe for a moment that he is guilty. What secrets has his wife taken to her grave?

With the clock ticking and the pressure mounting, Brook warns Jordan that their search for the truth could shatter the illusion of his perfect life. As she and the team peel back the layers of Jordan's seemingly ideal existence, they soon realize the cost of redemption may be higher than they ever dared imagine.