“I needed to see you. To make sure you’re alright.”
“Why?” I asked, while calculating how quickly I could unlock the door, get in the driver’s seat, and speed off.
He took a step toward me. I instinctively backed away.
“Come on, Faith. You know me. I’m not here to hurt you. Deep down, I know you remember me. Who I was. Who I am. The friendship we had.”
I studied him again. “Did they brainwash you in prison?”
“Prison changes a person—that’s for sure. But deep down, I’m still the same person. Isn’t that what you came to find out the other night?”
I shifted on my feet. My eyes darted from him to my vehicle. I didn’t want him thinking I had come looking for him at the Spotted Cat.
When I didn’t answer, he seemed to deflate. “Are you really scared of me?”
“What did you expect, Ethan?” So many memories washed over me. I remembered the day we met. I remembered the many hours we’d spent together—watching movies, playing video games, or just hanging out. I remembered the day our parents told us they were getting married, the wedding, and the many holidays we’d subsequently spent together as brother and sister.
And I remembered when it all changed—when he changed things between us.
“You know I never meant to hurt you.” He paused, looked up into the sky—at what, I had no idea—then back at me. “I was drunk that night. You were, too. And you’ve spent the past twelve years changing the facts of that night inside your mind.”
That’s where he was wrong. It wasn’t possible for me to change the facts in my mind. God, I wished I could.
Finding courage from somewhere deep inside me, I took a step forward and stuck a finger in his face. “Drunk is no excuse for what you did to me. No amount of time will change that.”
“Did I deserve to go to prison for what I did?” His voice rose. “I was sentenced to life. Hell, at the time, I felt like I’d received the death penalty—for a crime I didn’t commit! And you let them do it to me.”
“You killed our parents,” I said through gritted teeth.
Instead of fighting back … instead of coming at me with more excuses about his drunken state the night of the fire… he slowly slipped his hands into his coat pockets. His face softened, and he lowered his voice. “You know I didn’t.”
“How could I possibly know such a thing?” I asked, but there was very little energy behind the question.
“Now look who’s been brainwashed,” he said sarcastically. “Who finally convinced you? Your Uncle Henry? Your brother? Or no… let me guess… Chief Reid laid out the evidence. Somehow he convinced you that I was capable of killing both my father and your mother, then burning down our house.” His tone was mocking. “Oh, and let’s not forget… then I spotted you running into the flames, and upon having a miraculous reversal of conscience or morals or whatever, I ran in after you to save your life.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop how fresh the memories of his arms around me were. Pulling me from the burning and collapsing house. Our teenage years going up in flames along with our parents’ bodies.
“Isn’t that what my poor excuse for an attorney said in the sentencing phase of the trial?” he continued. “That since I’d saved your life, the judge should have mercy on me. He ‘saved me from the death penalty.’ That’s what he told the media—that he saved me.” Ethan scoffed.
I just stared at him while I willed my racing heart to slow.
He was right about one thing: Chief Reid, along with my aunt and uncle, had laid out the facts in such a way that left me with no question that Ethan was guilty. Even when I told them that Ethan had been with me that night, they came up with a timeline that convinced me it was still possible for Ethan to have killed our parents. They never asked what Ethan and I had been doing, and I didn’t tell. Ethan hadn’t either, to my knowledge.
If I had, would it have made a difference? Or would it have been worse for him?
No. I shook my head. I couldn’t have helped him. I’d been over the night’s events so many times it made me crazy. I’d been over the facts that Chief Reid and Uncle Henry had shared with me—including the gas cans in his car, which Ethan had never explained. Yes, Ethan had definitely had time to commit the murders and set the house on fire before I arrived home.
“I didn’t do those horrific things,” Ethan said quietly. “You, of all people, must know that. We were best friends, Faith. You knew me.”
“I thought I did,” I said. Tears stung my eyes and ran down my cheeks. The cold air nearly froze them there.
The truth was, as much as I wanted to hold on to the adults’ version of the story, deep down I still harbored some doubt. But I was also still angry. I remembered the way Ethan’s hands felt that night. And the way he smelled—the distinct cologne that was popular with teenage boys then. That smell was etched into my mind forever, because he didn’t normally wear cologne when he was with me.
But what if I’d been wrong? What if I had let him go to prison for a crime he hadn’t actually committed—for the wrong crime? What if I could have stopped it?
That fear had been in the back of my mind since the day the verdict was read. Even when Uncle Henry and Aunt Leah constantly reassured me that Ethan could “no longer hurt me.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No!” I met his gaze again, feeling stronger. I straightened. The muscles in my neck and shoulders tightened, and my hands formed fists at my sides. “I thought I knew you, but I was wrong. What you did to me that night was inexcusable. And whether you went to jail for that or for the fire made no difference to me.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“The hell I don’t. Now get off my land.”
“Faith…” There was so much hurt in that one word. “I served my time. I did it for you.”
What did he mean by that? It didn’t matter. “You need to leave, Ethan. If I catch you here again—inside my trailer or on my land—I will do everything I can to send you back to prison.”
His eyes narrowed. “Inside your trailer? Why would I—”
“Don’t you dare play games with me, Ethan. Don’t stand there and act like you haven’t been stalking me, lighting my fire pit, coming inside my home. You can’t hurt me anymore.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t. This is the first time I’ve been here in twelve years. Since that night. I’m not sure I would have come had you not come to the Spotted Cat. Why did you go there? And then you just ran away. Why?”
“I only came because you left a Spotted Cat matchbook beside my fire pit. I didn’t know for sure it was you who left it until I saw you behind the bar. Look, Ethan. You’re out of prison, and there’s nothing I can do about that. But you will stay away from me. Better yet, stay out of this town. Move on. You’ve been given a second chance—so take it. And leave me out of it.”
He didn’t leave—though he did appear to be thinking hard about what I was saying. “I swear I haven’t been anywhere near here, Faith. I’m being honest with you. The last thing I would ever do is hurt you. I finally got my life back, and I assumed that life would never include you. And then, there you were, as if in a dream. Standing in my bar.”
I swiped at my face. I was so confused. Standing in front of me was the man who had been my best friend for the better part of five years—my impressionable teen years.
But he was also the man who killed my mother.
And the man who raped me the very same night.
Eighteen
Twenty minutes later, I walked into Boone’s in a thoroughly dazed and confused state. Luke was there, with Cooper Adams and a couple of off-duty police officers, including Officer Puckett. Luke spotted me immediately and lifted his head in a hello. Cooper gave him a smile and the shake of a head, whatever that meant.
I gave a tight nod in return then looked around and saw Penelope sitting in a booth. I lifted a hand and motioned to her that I would only be a mi
nute.
I approached the table of men. The off-duties eyed me suspiciously.
“Can I talk to you a minute, Special Agent Justice?” I asked. I hugged my arms around me to hide that I was still shaking from the run-in with Ethan.
The others at the table exchanged looks.
“Of course.” Luke stood, and with a touch to my arm, he led me to the hallway in the back that led to the bathrooms. “You okay?” He slid his hand down my arm until it touched my hand. “Your hand is freezing.” He studied me harder. “And you’re shaking. What’s wrong?” His eyes widened with concern.
I pulled my hand back and crossed my arms again. “I need to know why you suspect Ethan of setting these fires.”
Luke stiffened, looked toward the table of police officers, then back at me. “I never said I suspected Ethan of anything.”
A woman stepped out of the bathroom. Instead of backing up so the woman could pass between us, Luke moved in close to me, and the woman walked past behind him.
He placed a hand on my arm again—a reassuring touch. “Let’s go somewhere. You can tell me what’s going on.”
I shrugged away from his touch. “What do you mean? If he’s not a suspect, why are you in Paynes Creek? Why are you giving the fires here more attention than the others?”
He managed to keep his face unreadable. “The investigation is ongoing. I’m simply following the trail of evi—”
“Don’t give me that rehearsed detective bullshit.” I tried to keep my voice at a whisper; the officers were watching us with increased curiosity. “I saw Ethan tonight. He came to the farm.”
“What? Did you call someone? Do the police know?”
I shook my head. “We’ve been over this. The police think I’m crazy. And besides, you just said you weren’t actively investigating him.”
“That’s not what I said. And we have no idea if the fires and your recent break-ins are related. I’m not ruling Ethan out as a person of interest.”
“There you go sounding like a detective again.”
He took a deep breath. When he spoke again, he sounded calmer. “Did he threaten you?”
I considered the shock I felt when he snuck up behind me, and how his presence at my home made me feel insecure and weak. “Not really.”
“You should have called the police. Or someone.” He inched closer. “You should have called me immediately. If not to let me help, to let me have a conversation with him.”
I lifted my eyes. “You can have a conversation with Ethan anytime you’d like. What I want to know is, why are you in Paynes Creek? Have you discovered something that makes you suspect Ethan in these recent arson cases? And do you think he was released from prison on a technicality or because he truly is innocent?”
“I can’t answer any of that.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
His face softened. “Just because I haven’t named Ethan Gentry as a suspect in my investigation doesn’t mean I’m not interested in making sure he’s fit to be out of prison—if not for my investigation, for your well being. Now, do you want to tell me what Ethan said?”
“I told him about the matchbook from the Spotted Cat. He said he hadn’t been to the farm in twelve years.”
“So he’s claiming he’s not the one breaking into your trailer and setting fires in your fire pit.”
“That’s what he said.” I glanced over my shoulder. Penelope was waiting patiently. “Look, I’m meeting someone for dinner.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t brush me off. Not about this.”
“Thanks for listening to me,” I deadpanned. I was definitely brushing him off. “I’ll be sure to call you if I hear from Ethan again.”
I wasn’t necessarily lying, but I certainly was questioning the decision to get closer to Luke. He was here for an investigation. That was all.
Before I could rush off, Luke stopped me with a hand to my arm. “I don’t know why you just clammed up, but I’ll accept it for now. I’m here to help, Faith. If Ethan threatens you in any way, or if you have another break-in, I want to know about it immediately.”
I nodded, if only to appease him, before walking over to Penelope’s booth. I ignored the table of gawking officers as I passed.
Penelope grinned as I slid into the booth. “You slept with him, didn’t you? I know that look between quarreling lovers.”
A server arrived at the table. She wore a black T-shirt with the Boone’s Taphouse logo across the chest. Her brunette hair, which was cut into a short bob with blonde-dyed tips, was tucked smoothly behind her ears. Pinpoint diamonds sparkled in her ears. “What can I get you, Faith?”
“Hi, Nikki.” I looked over at Penelope’s pink cosmopolitan and frowned. “Rye Manhattan. With Elkhorn Reserve.”
Penelope lifted a single brow. “This is serious.”
Nikki left to put in my order.
“Did you hear?” Penelope asked. “We’re supposed to get a winter storm. Can you believe it? It’s been a while since we saw winter this early. It’s only October, for crying out loud.” Penelope knew me well enough to know when I was having trouble with something, which was why she was going on about the weather. But apparently her curiosity couldn’t wait. She set her drink down and pushed it away. “So tell me, what was that about?” She nodded in the direction of Luke.
I lifted a shoulder. “I slept with him.” I didn’t want to tell her about Ethan. I already regretted mentioning it to Luke.
“I knew it.” She leaned closer. “Tell me everything.”
“I’ll get to that, but first tell me about the Porter fire. Have they linked it to the Reynolds case?”
She leaned back, clearly disappointed I wanted to talk shop first. “If they have, no one’s talking yet. Reporters have been sniffing around all day. You remember Marla Manfield?”
“Yeah, she practically attacked me outside the police station the other day. And again last night.”
“Well, she’s been hanging around asking all sorts of questions. She was at Boone’s when I arrived tonight, and she all but cornered Luke out in the parking lot.”
“Did you hear what she asked him?”
“Same thing you asked me: Were the two fires connected? And whether the FBI’s interest had anything to do with—” Penelope stopped herself abruptly.
“Go on. You can say it.”
“Well… she wanted to know if they were linking the fires to Ethan’s release from prison.” Penelope frowned. “Ah, honey! I’m sorry. I know this brings up all sorts of bad memories for you.”
“It’s okay,” I said, to let her off the hook. “It was a long time ago.” Of course, it was like yesterday to me. I could still smell the smoke from the fire, and feel the burns on my skin. I skimmed my fingers over my neck, over the scars that provided a constant reminder—not just to me, but to this town—of what had happened.
Penelope and I decided to share an appetizer, and we each ordered a salad. It wasn’t nearly enough food to absorb the cocktails we spent the next two hours drinking. By the time Penelope’s husband showed up, we were sloshed.
He flashed an angry scowl in my direction. “Why is it that whenever my wife meets you for dinner, I have to come retrieve her at some point during the night?”
“Oh, Steven,” Penelope slurred while slapping a playful hand at his arm. “Don’t blame her. I started drinking before she even got here.” She shook her head at me. “Don’t mind him. It’s past his bedtime.”
“Yeah, it is,” Steven said. “I have to be at work in a few hours.” He helped her up from the booth. She stumbled, but he caught her.
“I’m sorry, Steven,” I said sheepishly, but smiled. “I would have been happy to get her home.”
He leaned down so that his face was even with mine. “Do us all a favor, Faith. Get help from something other than the bottle and my wife.”
I flinched at his harsh words, but bit back my response.
Steven led his wife away, and she tossed a hand over her
shoulder. “Tootles,” she crowed, then fell into Steven, laughing.
Almost instantly, Luke slid into the seat Penelope had vacated. “How about I take you home?” he said.
I scoffed. And I tried like hell to suppress how much Steven’s words stung. “You just want to sleep with me.”
“I’m not denying that I would like to share your bed again, but taking advantage of a woman who’s been drinking all night doesn’t have much appeal.”
We sat there staring at each other. I concentrated on not sounding as drunk as Penelope had. “What angle is Marla Manfield fishing for?”
“Who?”
“The pretty television reporter from Lexington.”
“Oh, her. Was she pretty? I hadn’t noticed.”
I narrowed my gaze, and he realized I wasn’t joking around.
“She thinks I’m here to find out more about Ethan.”
Proving I wasn’t crazy for suggesting the same thing. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m here to do a job, Faith. If Ethan is mixed up in this, I will figure that out. I follow the evidence. The chief and I invited you to help with the case. You’ve refused so far. Is this you changing your mind?”
“I’m not an investigator. All I know how to do is operate a camera.”
“So you’ve said. But I think you can help stop these murders.” He slid from the booth and held out a hand. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
I refused his hand but climbed out of the booth. When I passed by him, he placed a hand at the small of my back. Then he leaned in and whispered, a smile in his tone, “You can act like you don’t enjoy having me around, but I know better.”
Nineteen
Garrett Jansen asked me to Junior Prom. I was seventeen, had never dated anyone seriously, and had had a crush on Garrett since I was a freshman—so of course I said yes. Whereas I was the quiet, academic type, Garrett was a popular athlete, like Ethan. Both were on the baseball team, and both were expected to represent Paynes Creek High School with athletic scholarships at Division I colleges after graduation.
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