Page 47 of Strict Confidence (Rochester Trilogy 2)
“What can we do about it?”
“I’ll keep pushing the detectives in her direction. Unfortunately it’s a small department. It would be easy for her to produce a fake charter for her jet.”
“Do you really think it’s her?”
“I don’t know, but it works. Zoey has a reason to hate me.”
“Because you… stopped dating her?”
“I never started dating her, not really.” At Jane’s disbelieving look, I elaborate. “We went out a couple times in LA. She wanted more. I didn’t. She kept texting me all the damn time, even when I completely ghosted her. There were red flags all over the place.”
“Then why did you call her?”
“Because I was getting too close to you,” I admit, my tone grim. “You were getting too close to me. And I thought that bringing in a third party, a woman who would sweep in and make assumptions, might somehow stop the inevitable.”
The look she gives me is pure wounded pride. “That is so messed up.”
“Yes. I did warn you about me.”
“But if she has a history of acting out, then she should be at the top of the suspect list.”
“Joe Causey doesn’t give a shit what I say. He’s determined to pin this on me somehow. But it may come down to that. I’ll go to jail for insurance fraud and be done with it.”
“Why?” she breathes. “Why does Joe Causey hate you so much over some childhood issue?”
“Because it’s not just a childhood issue. He’s Emily’s brother.”
Jane’s mouth drops open. She actually takes a step back, putting space between us. Good. Good. She’s finally realizing where the danger is here. It’s me, and all these tangles from the past. “What?”
“Yeah. He blames me for her death. And for her ending up with Rhys.”
Two spots of color have appeared on her cheeks. Her hand goes to her throat. “That means he’s Paige’s uncle.”
“Yes. He fought me for custody.” Family court is hell on earth. It reeks of small-town gossip and old vendettas. Everything hinges on the mood of the judge, who pretends to be impartial in his black robe and spends every Wednesday night at a card game with the mayor and the principal of the school. He’s always liked Joe. “But Emily named me in her will, which probably took him by surprise. It took me by surprise. She loved her brother. Spoiled him, actually. Was very protective of him. No one was more surprised than me to find out she’d named me. The judge had the ultimate decision, but based on her wishes, he granted me custody.”
Jane’s eyes soften, her brow furrowed. I don’t know what kind of calculations she does in moments like this. They probably have more to do with how good she is, how innocent, than the ones I make. “We have to tell the police about the woman on the beach.”
“He’s a bastard and a bully.”
Her chin comes up a little bit. “I know you don’t trust him, but he’s the only chance we have of catching whoever did this. Because I think they’re still doing it. I think they’re still following us.”
“You know what the fire chief said to me? No. Nevermind.”
“Tell me.” Her eyes bore into me. “I deserve the truth, remember.”
Yes, she deserves that much from me. More, really. “You’ll think I’m crazy if I tell you. Even I think I’m crazy.” I feel crazy now. Like the beam did more than fuck up my knee and trap me in a burning building. Like it knocked something loose in my mind. The beam’s just an excuse, though. I’ve had this recurring suspicion for months. Since the accident.
“What is it?”
Jane’s so sweet. So hopeful. She’s a goddamn miracle, is what she is. The kind of like she’s lived—so rough and so painful. It shouldn’t have let her trust me. It shouldn’t give her big dark eyes that look up at me like I have any of the answers. Like I could keep her safe, if only she can solve this one problem. “What if Emily survived?”
Her face pales. “Emily like Paige’s mom? Emily Rochester?”
“I don’t know. Yes.” I look over the beach again. Nothing but empty sand. No woman in a white nightgown. The visual is creepy as hell. A nightgown on the cliffside? A nightgown on the beach? “She had blonde curls like that. And I keep having this feeling of dread. Like somebody’s watching.”
Eyes on the back of my neck. Not just at the house. Here, too.
“Did you tell this to the police?” she asks.
“Christ. Of course not. They’re looking for a real person. Not a ghost.” I look away from her like a coward. The sincerity in her eyes is too much to see right now. My heart punches faster. “I haven’t been calling the cops. The opposite. I’ve been avoiding them. Causey’s demanding an interview with Paige. My lawyer has managed to put him off so far because she needs time to recover, but he’s insisting. We’re going to have to let him. And—” Among all those phone calls with the insurance company today, there was another one. Joe Causey’s demand on my voicemail. “He wants to interview you again.”
