Death is in the Details

by Heather Sunseri

  “And does he think all this is connected to you getting hit in the head last night? Or is he convinced, like the rest of us, that was Ethan getting revenge?”

  “Revenge?” I said.

  “Well, if he thinks he was wrongly imprisoned, he must blame you—for not helping him stay out of prison in the first place.”

  I thought about that for a second. Was I to blame for Ethan’s wrongful imprisonment? If so, he was the obvious suspect for stalking me. “I have no idea.”

  We served spaghetti onto our plates and sat across from each other to eat. My mind was racing with so many unanswered questions. Some days I wished I could hook up my trailer to my large SUV and drive away from Paynes Creek for good. But as I looked at Finch—and as I thought of Aubrey and their unborn child—I knew I could never leave my family behind.

  I closed my eyes tightly and swallowed back heavy emotions. I would not cry again. The earlier episode had left me raw, and I simply refused to add to it. Not that it was always within my control.

  Instead I took a bite of spaghetti, savoring the Italian spices and garlic in the sauce.

  We made idle chitchat while we ate. But my mind wasn’t in it. In the brief moments of silence, I couldn’t help but think about the things Luke and I had discussed. After all these years, had someone uncovered what Ethan had done to me?

  The current murders—if that’s what they were, and I believed they were—all involved people who knew about the abuse of someone they loved. Sandra and Gordon Reynolds knew about Matthew Lake’s inappropriate relationship with their daughter well before they elected to press charges against him. And Sadie Porter’s parents knew about Matthew Lake’s transgressions, too—though they kept it to themselves, apparently in the hope that their daughter might get an opportunity at Juilliard.

  And… Ethan and I had had a relationship that many would have thought was inappropriate. But even if someone had found out about that now, who could possibly have known about it back then? And who would have cared enough to do something about it? We had been so careful.

  If my case was anything like the Reynoldses’ and the Porters’… did that mean my mother knew about Ethan and me? Had she and Eli both known?

  And if so, had someone killed them for it?

  Finch wouldn’t leave until Luke returned. He claimed that he just wanted to visit with me, but it didn’t make sense that he would leave Aubrey on her own this long. And when I pressed harder, he admitted that they’d had an argument. “I accused her of not putting our child’s needs ahead of her own,” he said.

  I knew the doctor had ordered her to stay in bed, and she was resisting it. “Do you mean because she’s not resting enough?” I asked.

  “It’s worse than that. She went out driving around last night. You saw the condition of the roads.”

  “Why would she leave in the middle of a snowstorm?”

  “She went to Walmart.” Finch laughed. “Said she just browsed around the baby department mesmerized by all the things we would need when our baby arrives.”

  “Well… I’m sure she’s not still angry with you,” I said. “And if she’s refusing to stay in bed, you really should be there, don’t you think?”

  “It’s okay. I had Aunt Leah stop by and check on her. She took Aubrey some chicken noodle soup and watched some television with her.”

  “Well, I appreciate you coming over. It’s annoying that I needed you, but I’m thankful.”

  And I was thankful—but I also knew Luke didn’t want me left alone. That was kind of cute, but mostly, it irritated me. I didn’t take well to being babied. I supposed, though, that since someone had managed to give me a nice knot on the back of my head and a concussion, I didn’t have a lot of room to argue.

  Luke took over babysitting duties at nine p.m. I gave Finch a hug before he left.

  When the door was closed behind him, I turned to Luke—who was already closing the distance between us.

  “I am so sorry about earlier,” he said. “I’m sorry I had to put you through that, and I’m sorry I had to leave right after.”

  I wriggled out of his embrace. “It’s fine. I’m fine. You were just doing your job.” The sarcasm spilled into my voice before I could stop it.

  “Ouch.”

  I shrugged. The truth sometimes hurt. “Sorry.” I pulled some over-the-counter painkillers from a cabinet and popped three.

  “Head still hurt?” he asked—trying, and failing, to hide his disappointment.

  “Yeah, but it just feels like a normal tension headache now. I don’t feel the need for the stronger meds.” I faced Luke again. “I need to go see Ethan.”

  Luke’s brows pointed inward. “Why?”

  “He and I once had what I thought was an unbreakable bond. And I know we can never go back to what was once a wonderful brother-sister relationship—he ruined that forever—but when he came to me last week, he apologized for hurting me. And… I need to forgive him. Not for him… but for me.”

  “You’re a much better person than I, then. Because I’ve had a lot of ideas about what I’d like to do to him, and none of those ideas involve forgiveness.”

  I smiled, then stepped to Luke and placed a hand on his face. “I’ve been thinking about the fact that Ethan has spent more than ten years in a state penitentiary with little hope of getting out. If instead of murder and arson, he had been convicted of raping me…”

  “He’d gotten four to five years, maybe,” Luke said.

  I scoffed. “He would have gotten a slap on the wrist—at most.”

  “You think so?”

  I closed my eyes for a moment. I didn’t want to fall apart again. And I had no desire to tell Luke more about my teenage relationship with Ethan. “I’ve played out the ‘what ifs’ a billion times, and almost every time, my baseball star stepbrother walks free. We were best friends, and we were rumored to be more than that. The town loved to gossip about us. A decent attorney would easily have proven reasonable doubt. He would have said we were both drunk, which was true. That we’d had consensual sex. And that I later regretted it because he was my stepbrother, and that I called it rape out of guilt. My reputation would have been ruined. It’s always the girl’s reputation that’s ruined.”

  I shook my head and looked up into Luke’s eyes. “Our relationship is complicated, for sure. But I have to forgive him if I’m ever to let go of some of this hate I have pent up.” I placed a fist over my heart.

  Luke eyed me. Several beats passed before he said, “Okay. I’ll allow it.”

  I pulled back. “You’ll ‘allow’ it? I wasn’t asking permission. I was just telling you my plans as a courtesy, so that when one of the agents you have following me or Ethan spots the meeting, you won’t be surprised.”

  “How did you know—”

  “That you have agents following me? Please. I told you I didn’t care if you put someone at the end of my driveway. The question is: Is the agent here to protect me or to spy on me?”

  Luke lifted a brow. “Why would you think my agent would be here to spy on you?”

  “Please.” I crossed my arms. “Don’t patronize me. I know how this case looks. And my photograph is still at the top of your evidence board.”

  “As a person of interest. Along with a lot of people. Like your brother, who you yourself linked to the Midland case.”

  “I didn’t ‘link’ him, I just pointed out a dog tag!” My voice rose an octave, and I quickly turned and began messing with Gus’s food and water bowls. I knew when the Midland fire happened, and thanks to my condition, I knew every detail of my day and night—including the fact that Finch was out of town. But I wasn’t about to mention that to Luke, and have him start harassing my brother.

  Luke was watching me, analyzing me for sure. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I keep something from you?” I had already shared with him my biggest secret.

  “That’s exactly
what I’m wondering. But I know what it looks like for someone to busy themselves so that they don’t have to make eye contact with an interrogator.”

  “Is that what this is? An interrogation?”

  He sighed. “Of course not. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re hiding something.”

  “Well, hotshot FBI agent, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Now, are you staying here tonight or going home, because I need to get ready for bed.”

  I tried to edge past him. I was tired, and my head ached. But he boxed me against my kitchen counter.

  “I don’t know what just happened, Faith, but you went into your shell well before you got upset about me leaving your picture at the top of my board. What’s going on?”

  “What else do you want from me? I helped you prove that you can link my mom’s murder to all your other cases. Congratulations, Agent. You’ve got yourself a serial killer. Now, if you don’t mind, I want you to leave. I’m still feeling the effects of a concussion, and I’d like to get some sleep.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll let you push me away. Because you’re right, I do want to solve this case. But don’t think for one second you’ll be pushing me away forever. This thing between us…” He motioned between us with the wave of a finger. “We’ll see it through eventually.”

  He held my stare for several beats. I thought he might lean in and kiss me, and I couldn’t say I would have pushed him away if he did. But instead he turned, and I watched him walk out of my trailer without another word.

  Twenty-Nine

  The next day, forty-five minutes after ducking out the back entrance of the police station—and losing my FBI tail in the process—I was sitting at a booth inside a fifties-style diner on the north side of Lexington.

  Ten minutes after that, Ethan walked in wearing jeans and a navy pullover. He hadn’t lost his casual style or his boy-next-door good looks behind bars, but he’d developed a few extra lines around his eyes and had filled out across the chest. He’d obviously bulked up while he was in prison.

  I scanned the parking lot for any sign of a tail.

  As he approached the table, he followed my nervous glance outside. “What is it? Are you being followed?”

  “I ditched my tail. I was looking for yours.”

  As he slid into the booth across from me, he laughed. “I’ve ditched those fools every day this week.” When our eyes met again, his brows furrowed, shadowing his eyes. “How are you?” he asked. “Is your head okay?”

  My hand went instinctively to the back of my neck. The knot was still tender. “I’m fine.”

  A waitress interrupted us, and I ordered a diet soda; Ethan ordered unsweetened tea.

  “Do they have any idea who’s doing these things to you?” Ethan asked when the waitress was gone.

  “Yes.” I narrowed my gaze. “You.”

  “Figures they wouldn’t try to find any other suspects.” There was anger in his voice.

  “Why were you out at my trailer? I told you to leave me alone.”

  He folded his hands on the table between us. “I don’t know. I was out driving, and I found myself in Paynes Creek. That farm meant something to me once upon a time. Still does.”

  “Then why were you so quick to give it up?”

  “You think I let go of that farm easily?”

  I glanced down at my fidgety hands. “No, I guess not.”

  “I want you to have the farm. I hope you’ll eventually purchase Finch’s share, too. If that’s what you want.”

  “Where are you living?”

  “In the back of my bar.”

  My eyes dropped to a knife mark left on the surface of the table. “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  “I don’t know.” Frustration coated my words. “I just think I’m supposed to be sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who hurt you.” He paused a few beats. “But don’t you think I’ve paid for my crime?”

  I lifted my eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Even with a horrible attorney and a ruthless judge, I would never have gotten eleven years for what I did to you. I’ve served my time.”

  I thought back to the first night he showed up uninvited to my land. “Is that what you meant when you said you did it for me?”

  The waitress set our drinks in front of us, and Ethan shooed her away, telling her we would let her know if we decided to order food.

  I leaned forward when she was gone. “I’m supposed to believe that you willingly went to prison just because you felt you deserved it? Not for the murder and arson, but for the rape? That you made sure you got out when your time was up?” I leaned back. “And what? I’m supposed to forgive you now?”

  He didn’t answer. He only pleaded with me with his warm blue eyes—eyes that reminded me of hot summer nights. In high school, we had spent many such nights lying under the stars, dreaming of what we would be when we left Paynes Creek. I knew then that Ethan had eyes that could win over any girl he wanted. Yet he spent all his time hanging out with me, uninterested in other girls.

  I’d told Luke that I was requesting this meeting with Ethan so that I could forgive him. But that wasn’t true. I was unsure if I could ever forgive the rapist now sitting across from me. No one knew how difficult it was for me to even face this man. Not Luke. Certainly not Ethan. And apart from them, and one therapist, no one else even knew what had happened.

  At least… that’s what I had thought.

  “I have to ask you something,” I said. I let my gaze wander outside again. It was difficult to maintain eye contact with Ethan.

  “You can ask me anything.”

  “Did you tell anyone about that night? About what you did to me?”

  Ethan’s eyes widened. “Never in a million years!” He reached across the table and grabbed one of my hands before I could jerk it away. “I knew right afterwards that I had screwed up. I’ve tried so many times to tell you how sorry I was for what I did—that it was one hundred percent my fault. I wrote you hundreds of letters over the years, but they never seemed good enough, so I just shredded them and flushed them down the toilet. But I never told anyone else.”

  Why I allowed him to continue to hold my hand, I wasn’t sure. His fingers were calloused and rough. But his skin was cool and his touch gentle as he rubbed his thumb against the top of my hand. It took me back to when we were best friends—when I saw him as my brother.

  “Did you ever tell anyone about other things that we did?” I asked. Sweat broke out across my shoulders and extended down my arms to my hands, and I pulled my hand back.

  “Why are you asking these things, Faith? Look, I was in love with you. I knew you couldn’t handle that idea, but I never gave up hope that you would someday accept that we were good for each other. And no, of course I never told anyone.”

  “What happened after you left me that night?” I asked. “Where did you go, if not home?”

  “So, you finally want to know my side of the story?” His frustration showed in his eyes.

  I didn’t answer. I just waited.

  He sighed. “I’ll tell you what happened, but not here.”

  I reluctantly followed Ethan through the Spotted Cat into a back room. “You realize the FBI is out in your parking lot, right?” I asked.

  Luke had probably received a phone call already, and now knew I was here. He might already be on his way. I understood he was just trying to keep me safe; he still felt Ethan was most likely the person who had assaulted me. But I hoped he didn’t arrive too quickly. I needed to hear Ethan’s story.

  “They never seem to leave,” Ethan said. “I lose them, and they just come back here and wait for me to return. I’m learning to live with it. I’ve got my attorney on speed dial in case they overstep or outstay their welcome. It’s not like the police didn’t pin me for a crime I didn’t commit once already. But I’m watching my step.”

  Either Ethan was extremely arrogant,
or he really wasn’t involved in any of the recent crimes.

  The back room of the Spotted Cat had been converted into a living area. There was a leather sofa, a coffee table with stacks of books, an old rolltop desk with lots of paper strewn about, and a single bed. “So you really are living here,” I said. I didn’t mean for it to sound judgmental, but it did.

  “For now. While I get on my feet. It’s not easy—everyone around here knows my face, and they all decided I was guilty long ago. I applied for a few jobs before buying this place, with no luck. I’m not even qualified to be a dishwasher, apparently.”

  “Why did you buy this particular place?”

  Ethan shrugged. “I don’t know. It was for sale. It’s close to Paynes Creek, but far enough that I can start over. I was pretty good at running the prison kitchen. And I studied a bartending book while in prison. Just for fun, you know. And I think I could make something of this place eventually. I already have some regulars. And every once in a while a talented band shows up. I figure it’ll be a slow build, but I have time now.”

  I pressed my hand to my heart, thinking about him hitting certain milestones while in prison—his eighteenth birthday, his twenty-first birthday, the anniversary of his father’s death. I wanted to hate him; I still feared him. But for some reason, my heart ached when I thought about how alone he had been.

  “Most people fight like hell to get out of Paynes Creek,” I said. “Why would you, of all people, want to stay close?”

  His eyes held mine. “Because you’re still here.”

  I didn’t move for several long moments, didn’t speak.

  He let out an uncomfortable laugh. “If you could see the look on your face. How terrified you are.”

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I jumped at the vibration, but I didn’t move. Just stared at Ethan, considering.

  “You going to get that?”

  I pulled the phone out and looked at the screen. A call from Luke. “No, it’s nothing.”

  “Nothing? Or is it your friend, the FBI agent?”

  “You said you would tell me what happened. So…?” I needed to get his story before Luke got here. Ethan certainly wouldn’t talk after Luke showed up.