Page 68 of Murder Road

“I thought I was going the right way,” he said.

“Why did you think that?” My voice was almost a murmur. “We were going the wrong way. Didn’t you know? Did someone tell you which way to go?”

The words made him flinch; I felt it under my hands. “April.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“No one told me.” He ground the words out. “But I was so sure.”

I dropped my hands to his shoulders. The muscles were bunched, his body tense, but his skin was warm and familiar beneath the cotton of his T-shirt. “She brought us here,” I told him. “It wasn’t a mistake, and it wasn’t random. It wasn’t a wrong turn. She brought us here, and she just tried to kill me.”

Our gazes locked. “Tell me,” he said, calmer now.

“I will. I’ll tell you everything.”

He was still under my touch, our gazes still locked. “Who’s crazier, April?” he asked. “Me or you?”

“I don’t know, but you don’t have to worry. I’m going to fix everything.”

“You can’t fix it.” He closed his eyes. “You can’t.”

“Eddie,” I said, “you haven’t seen me try.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Neither of us were sleeping. I was halfway into a doze as gray dawn crept into the sky outside our bedroom window, and Eddie was on his back on the bed next to me, his breathing even and his body still. I knew he was awake.

We had talked, speaking in low voices in bed for a long time. I told him what had happened to me, about Trish and the tire iron. Eddie had been rigid as he listened, and he barely spoke.

“Jesus,” he said when I finished. “So that’s why they can’t solve it. It was someone different every time. Someone random. Someone who doesn’t remember.”

“All of them except for the first one,” I said. “The Lost Girl. We don’t know who killed her. That’s the key.”

We’d pretended to sleep then. But now, as dawn light began to edge into the sky, Eddie said, “April, I want to explain.”

I was too tired to follow. “Explain what?”

“What happened before I was discharged. The things Quentin said.”

I had to reach back into my memory. “You mean the fight he said you got into? The gun?” I let out a humorless laugh. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about my mother being a convicted murderer first?”

“You didn’t trust me with that,” he said softly, and those were the only words he needed to make my rib cage feel like it was closing in on itself. “You’re protective, April. You think I don’t know that? I’ve always known there are pieces of you I can’t see. You told me what you could. I feel like I should have seen the rest.”

“My mother was a criminal,” I said into the graying darkness. “I was never part of it. You can believe me or not if you want, but that’s the truth.” I could barely breathe, the words were so hard. “But I didn’t turn her in, either. I spent the money she made. There was a lot of money, sitting in a bank account that I never told you about until my mother cleaned the account out. But until then, I kept that money. And I lied for her over and over again.”

Eddie laced his hands on his chest, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “When I bought the gun, I didn’t know whether it was to use on me or on someone else. I couldn’t decide.”

I rolled onto my side, facing him, listening.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he went on. “I was dreaming about terrible things. No one I talked to could help me. It just seemed like if there was a way forward, I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see anything.”

I wanted to touch him, but I knew he didn’t want me to. So I stayed still.

“I didn’t like guns as a kid,” Eddie said. “Didn’t even like them as toys. And there I was, years later, and I knew how to kill people. It was one of the skills I’d learned. I didn’t want to be the man I was. But I was. They were going to send me on another tour, so I bought a gun. I figured if they came for me, I’d kill either them or myself. Because I knew how. And then I got in that fight—which I never do, but I did that day. I don’t know why. That led to my discharge, and they weren’t going to send me back anymore. I was ashamed of it, so I didn’t tell you. I thought I could leave it behind.”

“You can.” This time I did touch him, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Leave it behind, Eddie. It isn’t easy, but I think you can do it. I think we both can.”

“Those days of leave Quentin talked about—”

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