by Mia Sheridan
“I’m sorry, Hank, I—” Belle turned her head as I entered the wide-open space. She smiled. “Brant.”
I looked back and forth between the two of them. “Hank,” I said, approaching and holding out my hand. “What brings you here?”
“He found out about the money and I told him about the storage unit.”
Hank let out a breath. “It would have helped out if I’d heard about it from you first.”
“I explained—”
Hank waved his hand. “I know, I know. That’s not the main reason I’m here.”
He pursed his lips, looking from Isabelle to me and then to Isabelle. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Brant, Hank. I’d tell him later anyway. It’ll save me the breath if he hears it straight from you.”
Hank gave a curt nod, pausing for a moment as he looked at Belle. “I’ve never quite been able to get your case out of my head.” He sighed. “I guess you know that, seeing how often I check in on you.” There was sympathy in his gaze, a compassion that I didn’t imagine he could possibly have the emotional energy to give to all his cases. Belle had woven her way into his heart. She had a way of doing that.
Belle smiled tenderly. “I know, Hank. I appreciate it more than I can say.”
He looked slightly embarrassed as he glanced away, putting his hands in his pockets and jangling what sounded like change. “Anyway, I’ve never been able to put it to rest. These last few years I’ve been looking into anything and everything in my spare time.”
“Hank—”
Hank held his hand up. “I wanted to, Isabelle. You deserve as much. That little girl of yours deserved as much.”
Pain washed over Isabelle’s face, and I moved toward her, taking her hand in mine, squeezing it and letting it go.
“As you already know, Zeke Harvey was a transient. I tracked him all over, discovered that he was the type of man who took money for just about anything. He’d never been arrested for more than petty crimes, but the word on the street was that if you wanted something nasty done, he was your man.”
My chest tightened. “He was what? A killer for hire?”
Hank looked at me. “From the information I was able to gather, yes. But it’s all based on hearsay by those who would be less than stellar witnesses.” He crossed his arms. “Three years ago, I found a couple of local homeless guys who had known him, but they couldn’t or wouldn’t provide any information. However, one of those men contacted me a couple of days ago.”
I frowned. Where was this leading?
“This man was recently arrested, needed to make a deal, and decided he had some information that could be useful after all.”
I glanced at Isabelle. “What did he tell you?” she asked. Her voice sounded tense, almost wooden. I grasped her hand and this time I held on to it. Hank’s gaze moved to our joined hands and back to me. Something that looked like grudging respect came into his eyes. He had spent the last three years working every angle of her case, trying to provide answers to questions that were incomprehensible, and I supposed it was only natural that he’d look at anyone who came into her life with suspicion. So I took his look of acceptance with the gravity I felt it held.
“The man looking for a deal told me that he’d slept in a homeless camp next to Zeke Harvey for a week or so. When the crime occurred, he heard about it, and figured Zeke wouldn’t need his things any longer so he took them. All this time he’s kept them. One of those belongings was a burner phone. There was only one number programmed into it and it came back to Aaron Singleton’s office.”
“Aaron?” Isabelle breathed, shaking her head as if attempting to get her thoughts to fall back into place. “Aaron . . . hired that man?”
“I can’t say that for sure. I’ve spent the last few days looking into Aaron. That’s how I knew about the money. We’d gotten tips from investors about a Ponzi scheme, but no one ever pressed charges. When I looked into Aaron’s finances, I found that he’d drained his savings, cashed out his personal investments, mortgaged his house, used his own funds to pay it back. So I knew the missing money must be somewhere else. At the party here a few weeks ago, you’d started to tell me you found something and needed advice, and we were interrupted.” He glanced at me. “When all this information started coming out, I thought back to that and thought you might have been referring to the money that was unaccounted for. And I was right.”
“You’re good at your job,” Isabelle said, a small tilt of her lips. “But I already told Aaron about the money. I didn’t tell him how much, but he wasn’t interested in it at all.”
Hank nodded warily. “I’m still looking into Aaron, Belle. In the meantime, stay away from him. Don’t talk to him or tell him anything more, and call me if he contacts you. Something isn’t right with him. His connection to Zeke Harvey has major implications. Until I know what they are, you should steer clear of him.”
“I spoke to him today.” They both turned toward me. “That’s how I got your parents’ address,” I said to Belle. “He sounded angry.” I looked off into the distance, trying to remember exactly what he’d said. I’d been a little high-strung myself at the time. “He called Paige a liar—said she’d lied about their relationship.”
Isabelle frowned. “What?”
“I didn’t know what to make of it at the time and I don’t now. It was odd.”
Hank’s expression was a mixture between worried and thoughtful. “I can’t rule out anything at the moment. Did you say he was at his home?”
“Yes, but that was almost six hours ago. I don’t know the man, Hank, but I know how people get when they’re desperate. He sounded strange to me. But again, I don’t know him.”
“Okay. Well like I said, if he contacts either of you, call me right away.”
“We will.”
“And be careful.” With one last look he turned and walked from the stable.
I took Belle into my arms, holding her tightly, kissing the top of her head, providing the comfort I knew she must need after Hank’s visit. She would never put that day to rest completely. I knew that. How could she? But to have more questions without answers come to the surface, to have to wonder about someone she’d trusted . . . it had to be a blow. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yes. I will be.” She tipped her head back, looking at me, love in her eyes. “I’d just like to go home. With you.”
I kissed her once more, leading her toward the dark house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Isabelle
We were both quiet as we made our way up the hill to the house. I felt unsettled as I pondered all Hank had said. I wanted to talk about it with Brant, to go over it all carefully, but I wanted to do so curled up in bed, his arms around me. Safe.
Still, with each step, my mind insisted on sifting through the information with what I now knew. Aaron had hired someone to kill Ethan? To kill all of us? Was it really possible? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. And why hadn’t he asked for the money back from me? Had the killings been planned purely out of rage because Ethan had betrayed him, never about money at all? Or had he turned down the money as a way to make himself appear the victim and nothing more? I felt sick.
There was no denying it, though. The number in the phone belonging to Zeke Harvey went back to Aaron’s office. Of course it had been Ethan’s office too, but I knew Ethan hadn’t planned his own murder. They were the only ones who worked there, well other than an administrative assistant, and Paige on occasion . . .
Brant opened the door to the house quietly, so as not to wake his father, I knew. He began turning in the direction of the bedroom, but I put my hand on his arm, “I need some water. Do you want some?” I whispered.
“Only the kind that comes from a showerhead.”
I gave him a smile as he turned away and I walked quietly to the kitchen. The familiar smell of the house was a healing balm to my soul and I already felt calmer, better. I filled a glass from the tap and stood at the sink drinkin
g the cool, sweet water.
As I headed back to the room, I stopped near the hall closet, beginning to unbutton my jacket when I saw a flash of light through the French doors in the office. I paused, confused. What in the world? Was that burst of light something that had come in through the window? Headlights? I opened the door cautiously and stepped inside, walking to the window and peering through the open shutters. Nothing.
A cold shiver moved through me, the feeling that something was wrong, and I turned back toward the door.
Paige was standing to my left, half hidden in shadows, a gun in her hand.
Shock overwhelmed me, shooting iced water into my veins. A fuzzy gray cloud seemed to be weaving through my mind, obscuring my thoughts, my understanding. What was happening here? “Paige?” I managed.
She walked closer. “I never wanted it to happen this way, Isabelle. Just give me the money and I’ll be gone.”
“What money?”
She took in a deep, seemingly annoyed breath. “Ethan’s money.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t Ethan’s money, Paige. I . . . it . . . I gave it to my parents.”
“All of it?”
“N-no. I donated the rest. It’s gone.” Rage, raw and hot flashed across her face. My mind rang as I desperately tried to figure out what to say. “How did you . . . how did you even know about it?”
“How did I know about it? That money was ours, Ethan’s and mine. We were in love. We were supposed to leave together, start a new life with all that cash. Ethan would make even more. We had a plan.”
I shook my head. What? “In love? You were having an affair with Ethan? You knew about that money?” My God, this couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. It hadn’t been Aaron after all. It had been his wife. My friend. “I trusted you,” I breathed. “You’re my friend.” My voice hitched on the final word, a disbelieving sob caught in my throat.
“And how do you think I felt? Having to comfort you when I was the one grieving? All this time, and it was all about you. I had to pretend as if everything was fine.”
Paige waved the gun around, her movement causing my heart rate to spike. My God. I stared at her, trying to comprehend, trying not to faint with panic.
“You took the key to the storage unit.”
“Of course. But all that was in there was that damn car Ethan loved so much. Little good that will do me.”
“If he loved you, why didn’t he just leave me then?” My God, if only he had. Maybe that day would have been different. Maybe we wouldn’t have been home. Maybe we wouldn’t have even lived there. Maybe . . . Maybemaybemaybe.
“He wanted to. It’s all he wanted. But he kept hesitating because of her. Said you’d never give her up willingly.”
Her? Elise? My heart constricted so tightly that for a moment I couldn’t breathe. Yes, for all Ethan’s faults, for all his sins and cruelties, he loved his daughter. She was the only reason he hadn’t left. As I stared at Paige, I recalled Hank’s words and the awful, horrific knowledge bloomed in my head, an idea so soul crushing that for a moment, I could do nothing but breathe as it took shape in my mind. “You. You were . . . responsible for that man breaking into our house,” I said and my voice sounded wooden, far away, because despite not understanding the reasons why, I somehow already knew it was true. “You had them killed.”
Her shoulders fell slightly and a shadow moved across her face. “I didn’t mean for them to die, only you.”
Sickness moved up my throat, my breath caught in my lungs, as I reached behind me, finding the solid wall and using it to steady myself, to keep from falling. “You hired him to . . . to break into our house, to—”
“No, no, no,” she said, sounding exasperated. “I hired him to kill you. He was just supposed to kill you. But he was crazy. He totally botched everything. He did nothing the way I told him to.”
I put my hand on my stomach and swallowed, trying to hold back the vomit that threatened to choke me. She had hired a crazy transient to kill me, and instead he’d broken in, tied us up, emotionally tortured us, and killed an innocent little girl. And Paige acted like she held no responsibility.
The person I’d thought was my friend was a sociopath.
I would have fainted, I think. I would have just given in and fallen to the floor. It would have been a relief, but then there was movement at the doorway and Brant appeared. I looked away from him, trying not to alert Paige, but she’d either seen something in my eyes, or heard the sound of his footsteps because she turned around, whipping the gun in his direction.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Brant
I raised my hands, adrenaline spiking in my blood, panic flaring in my brain as my eyes bounced between Belle, who was as pale as a ghost, and Paige, who waved a gun between both of us, her eyes cold, calculating.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I didn’t answer. Aaron’s words shot through my brain.
Paige is a pathological liar. She lies as easily as other people breathe.
Paige trained the gun back on Belle. “You told me you broke up.”
Belle swallowed, panic in her eyes. “We had . . . when I called you earlier, we had. I—” She shook her head, tears filling her eyes as she swallowed again.
I took an instinctive step toward her but Paige moved the gun back to me. “Don’t move, or I’ll make sure she dies this time. I’m not a drugged-out transient, and I know how to shoot.”
“Please, Paige, she’s pregnant,” I rasped, desperate.
“Well, look at you trapping another man, forcing him to stay with you. Seems to be your specialty, doesn’t it?”
Belle didn’t say anything, her horror-filled eyes locked on me as if keeping me in her gaze was helping her to remain calm. Oh, Belle. You’ve been here before, haven’t you? She’d faced this before. Faced a gun, watched it kill her baby. Oh, God. What would this do to her? My heart felt like it was breaking, while at the same time wild terror clawed at my gut. I had to get that gun away from Paige. She was rambling. “That’s what you did to Ethan. That’s how he felt. Trapped by you. He only married you because you went and got knocked up.” She stared for a moment. “And it was good insurance that those braying idiots wouldn’t ever report him. But it was me he loved. Me he wanted to be with, me he was going to take with him when he left. We understood each other, Ethan and I.” She let out a small sob that immediately turned into a scowl as if all her false, manipulative emotions were coming apart at the seams, melting into one another. “Then that idiot killed him. And I was left with Aaron who now, doesn’t have a pot to piss in. And all that time you wore a key around your neck that led right to that money that is rightfully mine. Ethan was going to share it with me. He would have wanted me to have it.”
I took a step forward and the gun swung toward me, Paige stilling, aiming. I froze. “Let us go, Paige. If you hurt us, this can’t end well. You have to know that. Drive away. Disappear. We won’t call the police.”
She gave me a look that bordered on pity. “Liar. And anyway, I can’t just drive away. I don’t have any money. Aaron made sure of that. I need Ethan’s money. Isabelle and I will have to drive to Amishville and get what she gave them back.”
As if I’d ever let Isabelle get in a car with her.
Because I knew I’d never see her again. In fact, I was pretty sure she planned to kill both of us at this point, and Isabelle’s parents too. It was all too much for me to think about now.
Isabelle’s wide eyes beseeched me, trying to say something without using words. Maybe she was thinking the same thing; maybe she knew what Paige would do because there was no other option for her now. Something came into Belle’s eyes: fierce anger. And it looked like it was growing, heating. It was rage. A mother’s rage. My heart pounded. I sensed a very small movement and in my peripheral vision, saw Isabelle’s hand lower slightly behind her leg where she was standing against the wall. I didn’t allow my eyes to go to her hand, to try to figure out what she might b
e doing. My brain buzzed with fear, but I cleared my throat attempting to get Paige’s attention. She’d lapsed into silence, her eyes settled on me. I hated that she was far enough to shoot us before either of us could rush her and grab the gun.
“There’s no need to go to Isabelle’s parents’ house, Paige,” I said. “I have money. I’m a very rich man. I can give you all the money you want. I’ll double what Isabelle gave away.”
Paige tilted her head, seeming to consider that for a moment. “Too many risks. I’ll have to wait for the cash. You’ll have it marked.” She sighed, her eyes growing unfocused for a moment, seeming to decide something. “No, sorry, I really am, but this is the only way. None of you have left me with any choices.”
As if she’d made up her mind and that was that, she raised the gun, aiming it at me. Belle let out a piercing battle cry, rushing toward Paige, raising something in her hand. A yardstick. A fucking flimsy yardstick. A deep yell reverberated through my head, and I realized it was me, rushing forward as well.
The gun exploded and I felt a searing pain rip through my thigh, taking me to the floor. Someone screamed, Belle possibly. I rolled, yelling Belle’s name, and began pulling myself up despite the agony in my leg.
As if in slow motion, I watched Paige turn the gun toward Belle who had almost reached her and pull the trigger. The gun exploded again, hitting Belle square in the heart, a black hole appearing in her light gray coat. She flew backward and hit the wall with a loud thud, dropping to the floor.
I bellowed her name, my leg giving out as I fell to my knees. Another deafening shot filled the air and when I raised my head, Paige was falling, crumpling to the floor, the gun sliding across the hardwood. My father stood behind us in the open doorway, a smoking shotgun poised on his shoulder as he stared through the sights, pure fury in his expression.
I choked out Belle’s name again, attempting to stand, but unable to, going back down on my knees and crawling to her.
“Belle, Belle,” I choked. “Baby, please. Oh God.” I gathered her in my arms, shaking so badly I could barely control my movements. The spot where the bullet had hit her was a smoldering wound in the wool of her jacket. I let out a sound that was vaguely animalistic, a wailing cry of complete and utter devastation. There was no way she could have survived a shot like this. There was no way her precious heart was still beating.