Page 69 of The Villains We Make

He nods. How did the detective know anyway? Silas was using his old phone again, so I guess they tracked him.

“Maybe you should go see your mom, Ethan. I’m sure she wants to see you.”

“I need to stay here. Identify the body and all. Don’t want her to see him like that. What are you going to do now? I mean, now that Silas is caught?”

“He’s not caught. He didn’t do this. I think you should go, Ethan.”

He looks at me like he’s surprised by this, shifts his attention to the ring on his pinkie finger. I don’t look at the ruby eyes.

“I need to get ready to go downtown,” I say, wanting him to take the hint and leave.

“I’ll take you.”

“No, that’s fine. Listen, I’m sorry for your loss, but there’s nothing I can do for you.”

His eyes harden and he clenches and unclenches his hands on his lap, making me remember what he did the night of the gala. How he wielded that belt with a zeal I know I saw even though he says he was forced to do it.

“Phee,” he starts, standing.

I grip my coffee mug, tell myself he’s not going to hurt me. He has no reason to. But then the front door opens, and I look down the hall to see Hamish standing there. His forehead is furrowed. He eyes Ethan’s back and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Ethan turns around.

“Mrs. Cruz,” Hamish says, stalking into the kitchen.

“Hamish. Hi.”

He looks at Ethan and doesn’t mask his surprise at seeing him. Doesn’t hide the fact that he wants him gone.

“Ethan was just leaving,” I say, and look at Ethan.

Ethan glances at me, then back at Hamish, who just raises his eyebrows.

“Right. Phee, I can call you if I need you, right?” Ethan asks, head cast down again, eyes child-like.

“I’m not sure that’s?—”

“Look, what I did, those things, they were my father. You know how he was. How he really was. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You need to go. Now,” Hamish says.

“Phee?”

“Fine, Ethan. Just go.”

He nods, doesn’t acknowledge Hamish as he walks past him, just butting his shoulder against Hamish’s in a way that could be accidental before he disappears down the hall and, a moment later, out of the house.

24

SILAS

“Time of death is assessed at two hours after my client left the building, Detective. You want to tell me why, knowing that, you still dragged Mr. Cruz in here? In handcuffs, I might add?” Nigella asks, slapping a report down on the table between me and the detective.

I lean back in the uncomfortable folding chair that’s too small for my frame and catch my reflection in the two-way mirror. I need to shave, I’m hungry, and I’m fucking fed up of this bullshit.

Wells stands up, gives the report a cursory glance before putting it back down. He is very aware of what it says. The asshole dragged me down here for what exactly I don’t fucking know.

“He was handcuffed because he presented a danger to my men. And the fact remains he was the last to see the deceased.”

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