Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ASHLEY

The police stay on the doorstep, making small talk. But I know they're lingering because of who they saw in my house. I guess it's to make sure he isn't forcing me to say or do anything I don't want to. The thought makes hysterical laughter rise up in my throat.

"Are you sure everything is okay, miss?"

I nod. "Yes, of course."

My gaze tracks Zain as he walks to his car, and gets in. From where I'm standing, I can see him lift his phone to his ear. He talks for a minute or two, then starts the engine. He doesn't even glance in my direction as he drives down the street.

"If you're sure you're okay, we'll be going."

I drag my attention away from the car disappearing down the road, and refocus on the officer in front of me.

"Yes, everything is fine."

There's no way I'm telling them what Zain said. If it was an empty threat, he wouldn't have driven away and left me alone with the police. He means every word. If I speak up, my mom will be arrested on suspicion of murder. I know that the same way I know the sun will rise tomorrow .

"I'm really sorry about the call. I don't know how I managed it."

"It happens. As long as there aren't any problems, we can let it go this time. But check your emergency features on your phone, in case it sends an automatic distress call."

I force a smile. "Thanks, officer. I'll do that."

I step back and close the door, then spin so I can lean against it. Letting out a long breath, I look down at my hands. They're shaking. My entire body is shaking. My gaze lands on the suitcase at the bottom of the stairs.

If I leave now, I could be back home before he even realizes I'm gone.

But what will happen to my mom then?

He's not bluffing. I know he's not.

Pushing away from the door, I drag the suitcase back up to my room, and unpack.

I can't take that risk. I'd never forgive myself if I ran away and Zain followed through on his threat.

The door slams downstairs while I'm unpacking, and I drop everything to run to the stairs. I reach them just as Mom hangs up her coat.

"I need to talk to you."

She looks up at me. "This is becoming a pattern. You don't look very happy. There's a police car outside. Did they come to see you? Ashley, what on earth happened while I was out?"

I stop on the bottom stair. "Were you involved in Jason's death?"

Her lips part, close, then part again. "First you demand to know about my relationship with your father, and now this ? What's gotten into you?"

"Answer the question."

"I shouldn't have to answer it. You should know the truth."

"After this morning, I'm beginning to think I don't know anything about you!"

She stares at me for a second or two. "You're serious," she finally says. "You really think I would do something like that."

"Just answer the question, Mom."

"No, I was not involved in Jason's death. And I'm disgusted that you would even think that."

"Then why didn't you care? Why did you act like it was all happening to a stranger on television?"

" That's what you think? That I didn't care?"

I don't move, don't take my eyes off her face, don't speak.

She sighs. "Your memory of those weeks is so fragmented," she says softly. "There was so much going on."

"Dad asked you for a divorce. I heard him. That's why I went to Jason's."

"I know."

Her admission knocks me off-balance. I expected her to deny it.

"You know ?"

"Your dad was going through a rough patch at work. It spilled over into our home life. We were arguing a lot. The afternoon of the day Jason was killed, he said he was going to file for divorce. It forced us both to sit down and talk. I thought I saw you in the hall, but I wasn't sure. And then you didn't mention it, so I thought that I'd imagined it. When we got the call from the police, I knew that's why you'd gone to Jason. You'd overheard some of what we said, and went to the only other person you thought would understand."

She picks up her purse, and walks along the hallway to the living room. "But what you remember as me not caring was the opposite. You had just gone through one of the most traumatic things imaginable. And no one was willing to give you time to deal with it, including your dad. The police kept questioning you. Your dad was no help. He had completely fallen apart, and his only focus was getting answers. Which, don't misunderstand me, I fully understand. Keeping our family functioning was left to me. I had to take over paying the bills, along with running the house. I had to keep your dad from joining Jason. I had to make a stand when the police and lawyers pushed you to exhaustion. I couldn't afford to break down, Ashley."

She stops in the doorway and turns to face me.

"Jason and I didn't have much of a relationship. He resented me, and I felt guilty for breaking up his family. But I would never wish what happened to him on anyone."

"Zain said?—"

"Zain was in prison for fourteen years. Being imprisoned for something he didn't do … that's going to do something to a person. He's had nothing but time to think up alternative explanations for what happened."

"He's invited me to dinner with him tonight."

"Dinner? Why?"

Because he wants to frame you for the murders .

I can't tell her that.

"To clear the air," I say instead.

"That sounds reasonable," she says slowly. "If you're planning on staying home for a while, the last thing you need is to bump into him in town with everything unresolved between you. I have to say, I'm surprised at how well he seems to be dealing with it all, to be honest."

There's a slight note of hysteria in the laugh that escapes me. "You think I should go?"

"What's the worst that could happen? I assume he's planning on taking you somewhere public to eat? At worst, you'll find out he's not someone you ever want to speak to again. At best, it might go a long way to helping you both move past the tragedy of what happened. And you can walk away with some closure for a shared past."

When she puts it like that, it sounds so plausible. So innocent .

"What are your plans for tonight?"

She smiles. "Tonight is bridge night. Margaret is hosting tonight, so I'll be out of your hair before six."

And before Zain comes to pick me up for dinner.