Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ASHLEY

I try to slam the door, but I'm not fast enough. Zain's palm hits the wood, and it bounces back, almost smacking me in the face. My automatic reaction is to jump back, and he uses that to his advantage. He's inside, with the door closed behind him, before I can stop him.

"Get out."

"Our unexpected meeting this morning got me thinking." He ignores my demand to leave, and strolls toward me, as though he has every right to be here.

I back away. "This is grounds for harassment."

"Is it? Did you ask your mom about what really happened?"

"If you don't leave, I'm going to call the police."

"You threatened to do that this morning. Go ahead."

I take my cell out of my pocket and dial 911. Zain stands in front of me, one corner of his mouth tipped up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants.

"You should know that if you complete that call, the police will come … but it'll be to arrest your mom."

" What ? "

"You heard me."

" 911. What's the nature of your emergency?" A woman's voice sounds through the speaker.

"Why would they arrest her?"

" Hello? Is everything okay?"

"Hang up, and I'll tell you." He nods toward my cell phone.

" Hello? "

"Don't you think the police would be interested to learn that your dad asked your mom for a divorce the day before they found his son dead?" His voice is pitched low. I'm not sure whether the woman on the call can hear him.

" Hello? Is anyone there? "

He plucks the cell from my hand and lifts it to his ear. "I'm sorry. It was an accidental dial. I apologize for wasting your time." He cuts the call and pockets the phone. "Why don't we go through to the kitchen and talk?"

"No. I want you to get the fuck out of my house!" I'm shouting by the end of the sentence.

He ignores me, steps around me and walks along the hallway. I stare at his receding back, my jaw hanging, then catch myself. Snapping my mouth closed, I dart after him, grab his arm and force him to stop.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I might as well not have bothered for all the effect my grip on him has. He continues his forward motion.

"I told you." His voice is patient, like he's explaining something to a child. "We need to talk. "

"No. No, we don't! I have nothing to say to you. And you have nothing I want to hear."

He pauses in the middle of pulling a chair out from beneath the kitchen table. "Oh, I assure you, Ashley, what I have to say is something that you really need to hear. Sit down."

"No."

He shrugs, and sits, stretching his legs out in front of him. "The way I see it. You owe me. And I'm here to collect."

"I owe you? Owe you what , exactly?"

"Fourteen years, seven months, two weeks, three days …" He makes a show of peeling back his sleeve to check the time on his watch. "Twenty hours, seventeen minutes, and five seconds." His gaze lifts to meet mine, and I'm rocked back by the malice in his eyes. "That's exactly what you owe me." He straightens the cuff of his sleeve, and uses one foot to push out the chair beside him. "Now, sit the fuck down."

"Give me my phone and fuck off." I turn away, looking for the landline I'm sure my mom still has plugged in somewhere.

"Before you think about walking out, consider this. The day Jason and Louisa were murdered, your dad filed for divorce. He was planning to go back to Marissa. That's why you were coming to the house that night. You found out somehow, and wanted to ask Jason if he knew anything about it."

Icy fingers drag down my spine. I don't turn back, but I also don't leave the room. His voice is silky as he continues to speak.

"What better way than to stop a divorce from happening could there be than a death in the family? The son of the two people who were reconciling after so many years. How could they possibly face each other again after that?"

I want to tell him to stop, to get out of the house, but there's a lump in my throat stopping me from speaking.

"After forcing him to choose her over his wife all those years ago, Esme knew she had to do something. She already had a reputation for breaking up a happy family, how would it look if that man went back to the woman he left? Whatever she did, it had to be something big. Something that would keep him with her."

"Stop it." The words are barely more than a whisper.

"Sounds a little too much like the truth to you, doesn't it?"

I shake my head.

"I've had a long time to think about this, about what really happened that night. I bet if we looked, we'd find a large cash withdrawal that can't be explained going out of your mom's account a week or two before Jason and Louisa died."

"She wouldn't do that."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes."

"I do hope so, Ashley. For your sake, I really do."

"Why?" My heartbeat is a frantic rhythm, turning me lightheaded for the second time today.

"Because I'm about to give you two choices. I'll either leave here and take my theory with me, or I'll leave to give my statement to the police, and your mom will be arrested before the day is over. It all depends on which choice you pick."

"Which choice?" I force the words out through frozen lips .

"And that's why we need to talk. But I'd rather talk to your face than your back, so come and sit down."

For half a second, I consider calling his bluff and walking out, but before the thought even completes, I turn and take the seat opposite him. His head tilts sideways, and he gives a nod.

"Good girl."

"Don't patronize me. What do you want?"

"I told you. You owe me, and I'm here to collect."