Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

ZAIN

I turn up the collar of my coat, and keep my head down as I walk through the cemetery. It's not cold, but I'm not ready to face anyone who might recognize me, and I hadn't even considered I'd get here just as morning service was about to start.

When I reach Jason's grave, my steps slow. There's someone here. I stop, keeping a respectful distance away. I have no idea who they are, and I don't want to intrude.

Her hands move gracefully as she talks, and she keeps tucking the same lock of hair behind her ear every couple of minutes. Her voice is low and soft, and I find myself moving closer to hear what she's saying.

It takes me less than a minute to figure out that the girl in front of me is the same one who stood on the stand all those years ago, looked me dead in the eye, and declared to everyone in the courtroom that she saw me kill her brother.

When I speak and she finally turns to face me, her appearance shocks me. Long dark hair, blue eyes flashing with anger, she is both beautiful and a painful reminder of my best friend. But the second she opens her mouth, it's not hard to reconcile the woman spitting venom at me with the teenager who ruined my life.

"There's nothing you can say to me to make me feel worse than losing my brother did."

"You say that now, but you'll find out how wrong you are soon enough." Her presence unsettles me, and I throw out the threat as a distraction.

Her chin tilts, blue eyes narrowing, then a mocking smile twists her lips.

"Are you threatening me? So soon after being released, as well. That's not going to look good, is it?"

"To who?" I arch an eyebrow, and make a show of looking around. Mentally, I go through the steps of warding off the panic attack I am sure is coming. The last thing I need is her witnessing that . "I don't think the dead are going to care all that much."

The color drains from her cheeks, but she stands her ground, glaring up at me, fingers clenched into fists either side of her body.

"If you don't leave, I'm going to call the police." She takes out her cell.

"Go ahead." My heart is racing. The last thing I want is any kind of interaction with the police, but I refuse to let her see how her words affect me. "I'm pretty sure that coming to the cemetery to pay respects to my best friend because I couldn't be there at his funeral hasn't become illegal in the past fourteen years."

I've often wondered what my first reaction to seeing her would be. Night after night, I'd lie on my bed and imagine the meeting in my head. The problem is that in all those imaginings, she was always the thirteen-year-old girl, with vague features. I barely knew the kid, and couldn't have picked her out of a line-up back then.

Why is that a problem?

Because my plans haven't taken into account the fact that the scrawny little teenager who sealed my fate has grown up and turned into a harpy, with sharp claws and a vicious tongue.

I didn't consider how seeing her would affect me.

I needed this meeting to be on my terms, under circumstances I could control. This is not how it's supposed to play out.

Maybe this is a good thing. I'd planned to get revenge on a scared little mouse, but the woman in front of me is full of fire and brimstone.

For the first time in years I feel something beyond the anger and hatred. Anticipation licks through me. I need to change my plan … and I know exactly how to do it.

"Jason hated you, you know." I adopt a conversational tone, and take a step forward.

She moves back, putting his headstone between us. I push my hands into the pockets of my pants, and study her. She can't see my eyes behind the glasses, but I'm sure it's obvious what I'm doing. There's a wall behind the grave, and trees. The closer I can get her to move to them, the less people will see us.

And I really don't want anyone to overhear what I'm going to say.

"How does it feel knowing not only are you responsible for taking away fourteen years of my life, you're also the reason Jason's parents broke up?" My voice is soft, pleasant even, and I think it takes a minute for my words to register .

When they do, her brow pleats. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bryan Trumont left his wife when he found out his mistress was pregnant. Your mother made him choose. Admit to his affair, and move in with her and their daughter, or she would tell his wife, and he would lose everything."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"My parents were together for two years before I was born."

"They were, you're right. While he was still married to Jason's mom."

She snorts. "Is this your idea of causing trouble for me?"

"Jason resented you, hated you sometimes."

She flinches.

"You were a constant reminder of why his parents divorced."

"That's not true."

I lift one shoulder. "Why would I lie about something so easy to prove? You can find out the date of the divorce for yourself. All you need to do is check the records. You'll find that you were three months old when the paperwork was filed."

"You're a liar."

"Ask your mom."

Her lashes lower, shielding her eyes from my view for a second, and then she's nailing me with a glare. "If this is your idea of bringing hell to my door, you need more practice." She spins around and strides away.

I let her go .

I've planted the seeds of doubt. The next step is hers. And I'm confident she'll take it. And when she does, it will draw her deeper into my net. I'll still get my revenge. It will just take a new form.

I wait until she's out of view, then drop to my knees in front of Jason's grave, breathing heavily.

Find three objects .

I look around.

A gravestone. A tree. A wall.

I take another breath.

Hear three sounds.

Church bells. Birdsong. A car's engine.

Another breath.

Move three body parts.

Clench my fingers. Shrug my shoulders. Turn my head .

One more deep breath.

Okay. Good. You're fine.

"Hey, brother." My voice shakes a little as I straighten the vase in front of the headstone and rearrange the flowers inside. "They say it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission. I'm not sure I need either. I have to do what needs to be done. I think you'll understand. It's the only way."

I rest my hand against the top of the marble. It's warm from the sun.

"Peter told me that Louisa was cremated, and her parents scattered her ashes across the beach. She'd be happy with that. The beach was her favorite place to be. We made some good memories there, didn't we? "

My cell vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. But I'm here now. I can't change anything that happened. I can't bring either of you back. But I can make sure people know the truth. I'm going to find out who did this, Jay. I'm not going to rest until they pay for what they did."

My cell vibrates again. I take it out and look at the screen. Peter's number flashes up.

"I think I'm being monitored more now than I was when I was inside." I connect the call. "Peter."

"Where are you?"

"At the cemetery, why?"

"There's a news crew on its way to Whitstone. They caught wind that you've already gone home. Have you been home yet?"

"No. I came straight here."

"So, you haven't sent the driver back?"

"No, he's waiting for me."

"Good. Get your ass back in the car and go to your parents house. Stay out of view once you're there. I'm on my way. I don't want you talking to anyone before I get there."

"Why are they coming here?"

"They think there's a bigger story. That you're going to hunt for the real killer."

"They're not wrong."

"Zain, we talked about this. If the police department reopens the case, you need to let them do their job. "

"You mean the way they did at the time? You'll forgive me if I don't trust they'll get it any more right this time than they did then."

There's not really a lot he can say in argument to that.

"I should be there in a couple of hours. Then we'll work on a statement for you to give to the vultures circling."

"They've already been given a statement."

"No, you gave them a few shallow words on the steps of the courthouse. Now they're fighting for an exclusive sit-down interview with you."

"Maybe I should give them one. I have a lot to share, after all."

"We'll discuss it. Please don't make any rash decisions until I get there. I know your plan was to move into the house you bought before you were imprisoned, but you might need to hold off for a little longer."

I sigh. "I'm not hiding, Peter."

"I'm not asking you to hide. I just think we need to do things slowly."

"Slowly." I run my fingers over the headstone once more in goodbye, then stand and turn to make my way back toward the car. "I think fourteen years is slow enough, don't you?"