Page 39 of Rest In Peace

"Sure?" Skepticism laced the single word, an invitation for the truth I wasn't sure I could afford to give.

"Positive," I lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes, a smile I hoped would be enough to mask the storm raging within.

Matt couldn’t know what had happened.

I pulled off my coat, the fabric sliding against my clammy skin. Matt was in the living room, his torso leaning back against the couch, arms folded across his chest.

"Hey," he said, eyes scanning my face with a precision that felt almost invasive as I walked in. "How did it go with Andersson?"

I swallowed, my throat dry. The words seemed to stick somewhere between my mind and mouth, refusing to form.

"Eva Rae?" His brow knitted together in concern as I walked into the living room, and he glanced at my face. "You're shaking. What happened?"

"Nothing—nothing I didn't expect." My voice betrayed me with a slight quiver, an audible crack in my facade.

"Doesn't look like nothing." Matt's voice rose slightly, a crescendo of worry and frustration. "I see your hands, Eva Rae. They're trembling. And your eyes—they're not just tired, they're scared."

I inhaled sharply, a failed attempt to steady myself. "It's just been a long day, Matt."

"Cut the crap." He was raising his voice now, his anger seeping into the space around us. "You think I can't tell when you're terrified? Talk to me."

I averted my gaze, fixating on a nonexistent point past his shoulder. "I'm fine," I lied once more, the words hollow as they hung in the air between us.

There was no way I could tell him, not after the conversation we had just had about him fearing for my safety.

I turned away, a shaky breath betraying my resolve. Matt's presence was a balm and a curse. To tell him was to drag him into the darkness that clung to my every step since I started this investigation. Not to tell him was to build a wall of secrets between us.

"Eva Rae?" Matt's voice was a low rumble, his concern palpable.

"Can we not do this now?" I closed my eyes, fighting the images flashing through my mind. If Adam was the killer, then he had almost gotten me today. I had played it too risky. He could have killed me.

"Something's wrong." His statement was a command demanding truth.

"Matt…." The name felt like a plea on my lips—a plea for understanding without confession.

"Whatever it is, I'm here. You know that."

I nodded, the gesture empty. Thoughts clashed: Tell him. Don't. Trust him. Protect him. Each argument warred for dominance.

"Hey." His hand reached out, fingers gently reaching mine. I lifted my chin up to meet his gaze. "I've got you."

"Have you?" My heart pounded, the question more for myself than for him.

"Always." Conviction burned in his eyes, a silent promise.

My secret teetered on the edge of revelation. But revealing the truth meant exposing him to danger—a danger I wasn't sure I could shield him from. Unspoken words crowded my throat.

"Eva Rae, please." His voice cracked with worry.

"Matt, I…." My words faltered, fear wrapping around my tongue.

"Talk to me."

"Nothing—I mean, it's nothing new," I whispered, each word laced with guilt.

"Doesn't feel like nothing." His grip tightened, a lifeline offered in the wake of my internal storm. "Please, let's just… sit down, Eva Rae." He gestured toward the space next to him on the couch. I went to sit down, my eyes desperate to escape his searching eyes.

"Okay." He followed, but his confusion hung in the air, a thick fog of unasked questions.

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