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I REPLIED TO Sam’s text, letting him know I’d be home soon and to hold dinner. After much arguing, I drove Angie’s car back to the Jeep, and then called her a cab. Giddy with relief at finally ending things with her, I found myself humming a happy tune in anticipation of spending some quality time with Sam. Twenty minutes later, I parked the Jeep in the garage next to Sam’s new rig and climbed the stairs to the kitchen.
The mouthwatering scent of Sam’s signature vegetable lasagna greeted me as I walked in the door, the air redolent with fresh garlic, basil, and marinara. I tossed my purse on the counter and glanced inside the oven. Ricotta and mozzarella cheese bubbled in the deep pan, promising a tasty dinner. The counter had been set for two, including a lit taper, a bottle of red and two wine glasses, and a basket of crusty French bread. Sam wasn’t in the kitchen, so after washing my hands at the sink, I moseyed into the living room. He sat on the sofa with his back to me. The muted television was broadcasting a local news station.
“Hey there,” I said, skirting the end of the couch. His stony facial expression was the first clue that he wasn’t happy. He held his phone loosely in his right hand, as though forgotten.
“What’s wrong?” I sat down beside him and put my hand on his arm. He turned his head and gave me a look I’d never seen him use before. I tried to guess at his mood—anger? Sadness? Shock? “Talk to me.”
Sam returned his attention to the television and unmuted the channel. The news anchor was in the middle of reporting a breaking story. A still shot of a familiar Craftsman home could be seen behind her. The scrolling marquee on the bottom of the screen read Rival Gang Brings Down Crime Boss.
“Edward Chacon had moved to the quiet Seattle neighborhood just one week before his brutal murder...”
My heart skipped a beat. They’d found the body. Even though I knew it would happen, it was still shocking to see it play out on TV. I glanced at Sam. This time his expression was easy to read.
Sadness.
“What are you looking at me like that for? You think I had anything to do with this?” My mind scrambled for the right thing to say to ease the pain I saw in his eyes.
“I know you did.”
“No, I didn’t. What are you even talking about?”
“Don’t lie to me, Kate.” He muted the TV and set the remote on the side table. “I just got off the phone with a mutual acquaintance.”
Something shifted inside of me and my heart sank. She couldn’t have.
“Who?”
“Angie.” He watched me closely. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “She told me everything, right down to the knife in his throat. And she emailed me this.” He turned his phone toward me and pressed play.
It was the video Angie had taken of Chacon’s confession. At first the framing was tight to Chacon, but a few seconds into the replay the scene widened to include the back of me holding the gun. My voice was unmistakable.
A wave of weariness swept through me. It was too much effort to hold myself upright, and I slumped back against the sofa.
“I didn’t kill him, Sam.”
“But you hired her to teach you how.” He shook his head. “What were you thinking?”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never be able to make him understand how powerless I felt when I first saw Lisa in that hospital bed. Or when the Whitmores demanded more information about the people responsible for their son’s death and I couldn’t give it to them. The pain in their eyes would stay with me for a lifetime. Sam never let things affect him that way.
“I wanted to know how to do things that would get results. Chacon’s the kind of criminal who only understands violence, Sam. You know that. I thought if I could learn what to do and expect, then I’d have better luck finding the person responsible for so many lives cut short and make them pay.”
“And have you?”
Remembering the thumb drive with the information from Chacon’s laptop, I nodded. “Another clue, at least.”
“The man died, Kate. And Angie has evidence that you were there.” He leaned forward, his body taut with tension.
“I never intended for it to happen, at least not that way. Angie just showed up.” I spread my hands wide, as though that should have been enough of an explanation.
Sam watched me for a moment before responding. “You do get that you’re responsible for his death, right? You hired an assassin. If you hadn’t done that, he’d probably still be alive today.”
A tiny spark of rebellion ignited in my chest. “I didn’t ‘hire an assassin’ to kill the guy. Besides, he was a dirt bag with no regard for human life. The world won’t miss him one bit. Will you?” Just where did Sam get off judging me for trying to do what was right?
“Kate—” Sam’s surprised expression added fuel to my fire.
“What did you expect? I’ve lived for years looking over my shoulder, being afraid for my life and the lives of those I loved. That’s no way to live, Sam. You should try it some time.” I was on a roll, now. “Chacon was responsible for my sister’s coma, not to mention all those other deaths linked to those painkillers. How could I do nothing?”
Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Who have you become?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The anger inside of me was burning out of control. A part of me watched the scene play out, knowing where this was headed but unable or unwilling to stop the emotional runaway train.
“I think we need a break. I’ve been operating under the assumption that you and I were of like minds.” He stared into space. “What happened with Angie and Chacon tells me a different story.”
“So we’re breaking up?” The words came out defiant but my heart was in shreds. I don’t want to lose you, Sam, I thought. But I didn’t say it. I couldn’t form the words.
Wouldn’t.
“I hear a lot of I’s in your explanation. No we’s. I’ve been thinking of us as ‘we.’ Obviously you haven’t.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Sam shut me down with a look.
“You can tell yourself that Chacon deserved to die, deserved to be tortured. That you haven’t really done anything wrong. You can see it any way you want. Let me tell you how the criminal justice system will see it if they figure out you were a part of this. They could charge you with Murder One, or barring that, accessory to murder, which means a prison term. I guarantee you won’t like prison, Kate. People tell you what to do there. All. The. Time.
“If prison doesn’t bother you, how about the position you’ve put me in? Thanks to your new BFF sending the video to me, now there’s a record that I know who committed the murder. What do you think the police will do if they catch up with Angie or find her phone? My number’s on her call list.” Sam leaned back and crossed his arms. “How the hell did she even get my number?”
“I—I don’t know. She must have gotten a hold of my phone.” She’d had plenty of opportunity. My heart stuttered in my chest. I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.
We sat in frozen silence, both of us unsure what to say, knowing the next words would make or break us. My phone pinged in the kitchen, telling me I had a text. Grateful for the distraction, I rose from the couch and blindly made my way to see who had sent it. I wiped at the tears forming in my eyes before fishing my cell out of my purse and glancing at the screen. It was a message from my father.
Lisa’s had a turn for the worse. Call me asap.
Palms sweating, I punched in his number, willing the call to connect faster. Finally, on the fifth ring, he answered.
“Maureen and I are at the hospital.” He sounded like he hadn’t slept. “Lisa went downhill overnight. They’ve been working to revive her.” He drew a ragged breath. “They don’t know how long she’s got.”
My stomach twisted and I closed my eyes. Please don’t leave, Lisa. You have to hang on. The words formed in my mind like a mantra. “I’ll be on the next plane to Minneapolis.”
“No, Kate.” He paused. “It would be better if you didn’t come, love bug.”
“Why not?” Shock replaced worry and my hands clenched. “I can take the redeye and be there by morning.”
There was a hesitation before he said, “Maureen and your sisters don’t want you here. They don’t even know I’m calling you.” His voice softened. “I’m sorry, honey.”
Shock gave way to hurt, which quickly turned to anger. I tried to slow my breathing as my face heated.
“Lisa’s my sister, too.” I bit through the words.
“I know, love bug, I know. It’s just that right now it would be best if you weren’t around. They’re angrier than a nest of hornets and blame you for everything.”
“But you don’t, do you?”
“Of course not. I know you mean well. It’s just that—” Another sigh. “It would just make life a whole lot easier if you stayed in Seattle. I promise to keep you posted, okay?” Muted voices floated through the other end of the line. “I’ve got to go, love bug. Take care, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied, but he’d already ended the call.
Numb, I set the phone down on the counter and stared into space. Lisa was fighting for her life and I wasn’t there to help. My own stepmother and sisters didn’t want me around, thinking that everything was my fault. I could have gone to Minneapolis, could have made a reservation to fly out of SeaTac that evening, but what was the point? I’d be lucky if Maureen would even let me see Lisa. She’d probably already given my name to the head nurse to bar me from visiting her.
“Is everything all right?” Sam’s voice echoed in the empty kitchen. I looked up, and my gaze met his. He stood in the doorway leading into the living room.
“Lisa’s worse.”
“What time are you flying out?”
I shook my head. “Maureen and my sisters don’t want me there.” Tears pricked at my eyes, and I wiped at them with the back of my hand. The loss of both Sam and my family in the space of a few minutes was too much to bear. The kitchen walls closed in on me, claustrophobia clawing its way to the fore.
I had to get away, had to leave, now.
Fuck them. An ember of long-buried anger ignited at the outright loss of Sam and my family, such as it was. Not that I cared what Maureen thought, but my two older sisters feeling the same way stung. Somehow Maureen had turned them against me. They’d at least been willing to talk on the phone at Christmas and birthdays. And why didn’t my father just leave Maureen? My mother and she were polar opposites. We’d all been surprised when Dad had popped the question.
Too bad my real mother was gone. I could’ve used her wisdom about now.
Sam walked over and wrapped his arms around me. At first I stiffened, but then leaned into the embrace, thankful for that small measure of comfort as my world crashed down around me in bright, fiery flames.