Chapter 57

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

ZAIN

I'm halfway to the police station when I remember that my appointment with the sheriff isn't for another two hours. I take a sharp left, ignoring the horns blaring at me, and drive to the edge of town … and the cemetery.

It's quiet, peaceful even, and there are barely any people around as I make my way over to Jason's grave. The flowers Ashley left are still there, and I don't know why I'm surprised by that.

Actually, that's not true.

It's because it feels like a lifetime ago, not just a few days.

I sit on the grass beside the gravestone.

"Hey, man."

I tip my head sideways and rest it against the cold marble.

"My mom told me I need to slow down. How am I supposed to do that? There's so much I need to do, and I've waited too long as it is."

I close my eyes and let out a long breath.

"And when I slow down, I start thinking about how much the world has changed. And … I don't know if I can deal with it right now. So I'm focusing on the one thing I can deal with."

The irony isn't lost on me that I'm talking about his sister.

"Am I fucking up, Jace? You understand what I'm doing, right?"

In my mind's eye, I build up the image of him. Taller than me, blue eyes, hair a shade lighter than mine, and shorter—shaved at the sides.

In my imagination, he comes toward me, his lopsided smile so similar to Ashley's that it twists a knife in my gut everytime I see it on her lips. Not that she smiles much around me. Thank fuck.

He doesn't speak, just comes to a stop in front of me and looks down at where I sit. His eyes are serious, and his smile fades.

"I know." My sigh is heavy. "She's your sister, and I'm treating her like shit. You always did refuse to play revenge games, even when it meant you got hurt. But it's all I've got. You know?"

Obviously he doesn't answer me.

"She had a point though. How did Detective Holson know about Louisa? Could they have found something? I don't think the autopsy paperwork would have been ready that fast. He must have found something in your room, right?"

That must be the answer, because the only other way he'd know was if Louisa told him. And as far as I knew, they didn't talk after some kind of falling out between their families years ago.

"I can't stop now. I have to see this through."

I push to my feet. "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, so that's what I'm gonna need from you, brother. Your forgiveness for what I'm doing. But it's the only way I can get answers. I swear to you, it's the only way. "

I brush my fingers lightly over the gravestone marking my best friend's resting place.

"There isn't a day where I don't miss you. Both of you, and your kid. Your son or daughter would have been thirteen now. I bet you wouldn't have stopped at one, either. You'd both have been waist deep in babies. I wish that had happened for you." I press my fingers to my lips then down on the engraving of his name. "I love you, brother."

Turning my back on the grave, I head toward the path and my car. Inside, I cross my arms across the steering wheel, rest my forehead against them, and close my eyes.

I'm so fucking tired. Who'd have thought it would be so hard to sleep once you were no longer inside a cell?

A rap on the window startles me, and I look up to find a man standing there. I wind down the window.

"Can I help you?"

"I was going to ask you the same question." His voice is low, almost gentle.

"I'm good, thanks. Why do you ask?"

"Because you have the demeanor of someone who is carrying a heavy weight."

I look closer. He's wearing a dark shirt and a pair of black pants. There's a white collar around his throat.

I dredge up a smile. "Thank you, father. I'm okay."

"Are you, son?"

"I don't feel the need to confess and repent my sins. "

"I wasn't asking you to do that. Why don't you take a walk with me?"

"A walk?"

"It's a nice day, and walking around the grounds is a lot more pleasant with company."

It's on the tip of my tongue to refuse, but I still have time to waste, so I shove it down, and get out of the car. The priest smiles at me.

"I'm Father Michael."

"Zain."

"I recognize you."

Tension zips up my spine .

Is this a ploy to try and talk me into confessing the sins he thinks I've committed?

"Your mom helps out with the soup kitchen every couple of weeks."

"She's a good person."

"She is. Come. This way." He waves a hand to one of the paths leading deeper into the cemetery. "I assume you're here visiting your friends?"

I nod.

"I wasn't here when they died, but I like to know about all the souls who reside in my cemetery."

That seems a little weird to me, but I keep my mouth shut.

"Their story is a heartbreaking one."

"I didn't do it." I can't stop the words from breaking free.

He doesn't miss a beat. "I know, son. "

My laugh is tinged with bitterness. "Do you? How?"

His smile is warm when he looks at me. "Because you don't have a dark soul, Zain. It burns like fire." He pats my arm. "Everything will work out."

"You don't know that."

"But I do."

"How?"

"Because I have faith."

I snort. "I had faith too, once. Then I was arrested for murder and caged like an animal."

"Sometimes things happen for a reason."

"What possible reason could there be for that ?"

"I'm sure when God is ready, he will let you know."

"No offense, but I think that's bullshit."

He laughs quietly. "Do you believe in heaven, Zain, or do you think once you're dead that's the end?"

I frown. "Does it matter?"

"I think so. Surely, you prefer to think that your friends are in heaven, together and happy?"

"That doesn't prove the existence of a god."

"No, I don't suppose it does. But it proves that you aren't the monster full of hate people tried to paint you as, and it means that there is good in you. You wouldn't wish that for your friends, otherwise."

"I could be a monster and still want my friends to be happy."

"You could. But I don't think you are." He stops. "Here we are."

I look around. We're back at my car .

"Thank you for the company." He turns and walks away.

I stare after him. He doesn't look back.

My cell's ringtone shatters the silence and my eyes snap open.

Disoriented, I look around. I'm in my car, my hands still resting on the steering wheel.

What the fuck?

My heart is pounding against my ribs, and it takes me a second to figure out that I dreamed the whole encounter.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I grope around in my pocket for my cell.

"Hello?" My voice is rough and croaky.

"Zain? It's Sheriff McFadden. I'm just checking to make sure you're still stopping by to see me?"

"What?" I glance at the time. Two-fifteen. Fuck. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm on my way now."