Page 107 of Ruthless Intent

What matters now is that for me to get the answers I need, my plan has to change.

Now it’s no longer about making Ashley pay.

No, that’s not strictly true. There are still things I have to resolve about the part she played in my trial.

But now, my focus has to move to a more important question. Who was really responsible for the murders, and how can I bring them to justice?

I start the car and drive back to the house on autopilot, my mind thinking over the conversation with the sheriff. I need to work out the next step, and put it into motion.

To do that, I need to convince Ashley to take part in the interview with me tomorrow. It shouldn’t be difficult, I can wave the contract she signed under her nose and tell her she has no choice.

Anticipation licks through my veins at the thought of the fight that might cause. It startles me, distracts me, and I almost see the red light too late to stop. Slamming my foot on the brakes, I bring the car to a stop before I run the light.

Why am I looking forward to fighting with her?

A horn blares behind me, and my gaze snaps up.

Fuck. The lights have changed again, and I’m holding up the rush hour traffic.

I flip the person in the car behind me my middle finger, and drive off. It takes less than ten minutes to reach my parents’ house. I park the car on the drive, instead of in the garage, just in case I need to go back out later.

When I walk inside, the last thing I expect to find is my dad waiting in the entrance hall. He beckons to me with a crooked finger and turns to walk into his office. I follow him.

“Close the door.”

I do as he asks and cross the room to take one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“I hoped to catch you before you walked into the chaos you’ve caused.”

“Chaos?”

“Did you really think your mother wouldn’t notice?”

“Notice what?”

He slams one palm down onto his desk. “Don’t play the innocent with me, Zain!” His shout echoes off the walls.

I lean back on my seat and arch an eyebrow. “I’m not the twenty-year-old kid you remember. Shouting at me isn’t going to give you answers any faster. What are you talking about?”

“You brought the girl who took you from us into our house, left her with your mother for hours, without any explanation. Why the fuck is she wearing a wedding ring, Zain?”

“What did she tell you?” My voice is calm, while my mind races wondering how much damage control I’m going to need to do.

I knew there was a risk of her saying something, but what exactly has she said?

“Absolute nothing.”

That isn’t the answer I’m expecting.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing, other than it isn’t anything important. Just a ring. Which is clearly bullshit.”

“Why is it bullshit?”

He straightens and stalks around the desk until he’s standing in front of me. “I may be old, but I’m not stupid or blind.” He jabs a finger at my hand. “You’re wearing a similar ring.”

I lift my hand, and study the band around my finger, then look into my father’s eyes.

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