Chapter 47

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

ASHLEY

For a brief moment in time, I forget that it's my brother who died. That it's my fault the young man on the screen was tried and found guilty.

My heart breaks for the boy being interrogated. The bewilderment and anguish is clear in his voice. The fear when the detective reads his rights. The devastation written across his face when he realizes that they don't believe him.

When a hand comes into my vision and pauses the video, I'm taken aback.

How did I forget where I am? Who I'm with?

I don't want to look at him. I don't want to compare the hard lines of the face on the man in the room with the broken boy on the screen.

"Are you ready to tell me why you lied?"

I close my eyes.

"The evidence is right there in front of you. You fucking lied. You stole my chance to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry." My voice is a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

A chair scrapes across the floor. I don't want to open my eyes and look at him. I don't want to know what he's doing.

"Louisa was almost ten weeks pregnant. They went to the city because they knew the news would spread if they saw the local doctor, and they weren't ready to announce it. I was going to gift them this house, so they had somewhere to raise their new family." His voice is so conversational, like he's talking about someone who just left the room. It twists my stomach into tighter knots. "They were so fucking excited. But Jason didn't want to buy anything for the baby until nearer the time. He didn't want to tempt fate."

Something touches my arm, and my eyes snap open to find Zain standing beside me, a bowl in his hand.

"How does it feel, Ashley? Knowing that because you decided to frame me for their murder, it means the real murderer escaped?"

"I didn't. I saw you with the knife."

He makes a sound. I think it's a laugh. But there's no humor in it.

"What hand was I holding the knife in?"

"Wh-what?" My eyes dart up to meet his.

"What hand?"

"Your right hand."

His lips twist.

"Why does that matter?"

"It doesn't. Not really. Not now, anyway."

"Then why ask?"

"Because if I'd murdered them, the knife would have been in my left hand."

"Your left hand? "

My gaze focuses on the bowl he's holding … in his left hand. I think about him playing and pausing the videos. He'd used his left hand then, too.

Oh god … his dominant hand is his left. If he'd been attacking someone, that's the hand he'd have used.

He places the bowl down, and moves behind me. My wrists are free a second later.

"Eat your breakfast."

He walks out of the room.

The bowl in front of me contains oatmeal.

I hate oatmeal.

Almost as much as I hate the guilt filling me up after watching the video.

Why don't I remember the first interview when I was alone with the detectives? Why do I see Zain holding a knife every time I close my eyes, when I claimed he didn't have it originally? Why did I change my story? Why did I lie?

Why did I lie?

After watching his recording, I completely understand why he hates me.

Who wouldn't?

I hate me !

But it also tells me something else.

It doesn't matter what I do, what I say, Zain will never forgive me. He's going to continue to torment me, and if I don't get away from him, it's going to get worse every single day.

I'm on my feet and across the room, and it's only when I push open the door leading from the kitchen and into the yard that I realize what I'm doing.

I'm running .

I'm risking my mom going to prison.

And at this moment in time, I can't stop myself. Because if I stay here, if I allow Zain to take out his anger on me, he will become worse than the monster I painted him as all those years ago.

There's a gate at the end of the yard, leading out into the forest beyond.

I glance down at my feet.

I'm almost naked, dressed only in my underwear, barefoot, and I'm about to walk out into the trees.

What's more dangerous? Staying here with a man who hates me, or risking someone seeing me without clothes on?

It's daytime. It's early. I should be able to make it to the road and flag someone down.

But then you'll have to explain why you're undressed.

One problem at a time. Focus on getting out first .

There's a stone path leading toward the gate. I glance behind me to make sure Zain hasn't reappeared, then take off.

My hand touches the gate, and that's when I hear my name shouted from behind me.

Heart hammering against my ribs, I unlatch the gate, throw it open, then bolt through it. The ground beneath my feet is uneven, but my only thought is to put as much space between myself and Zain as possible.

He shouts my name again. Closer, this time .

I turn left. Continuing straight will be a mistake. He'll expect me to do that. I have to keep changing direction. It might take me longer to reach the road, but it should slow Zain down as well because he'll need to work out where I am.

I turn right and almost twist my ankle when the ground dips, but I catch myself against a tree trunk and regain my balance. The snap of a twig behind me drives me forward, and I take off again.

My breath is loud in my ears, my heart pounding so hard, I'm sure it's going to burst out of my chest. I feel like my lungs are on fire. I've always thought that I'm reasonably fit. I go to the gym three times a week, but this crazy run through the forest is telling me otherwise.

A laugh rises up my throat.

I should have spent more time on the treadmill.

I take another left. I'm not even sure if I'm going in the right direction to find the road anymore, and I daren't slow down to find out. I just keep running.

A shout comes from close behind me. My name.

Zain .

He's found me already.

My head snaps around, searching him out, and my foot steps out … onto air.

I'm going too fast to stop, there's nothing to hold onto, and I go headlong down the hill. Pain explodes through my shoulder, my ankle … and then my head.

Everything turns black.