Page 21 of Ruthless Intent

“No. I came straight here.”

“So, you haven’t sent the driver back?”

“No, he’s waiting for me.”

“Good. Get your ass back in the car and go to your parents house. Stay out of view once you’re there. I’m on my way. I don’t want you talking to anyone before I get there.”

“Why are they coming here?”

“They think there’s a bigger story. That you’re going to hunt for the real killer.”

“They’re not wrong.”

“Zain, we talked about this. If the police department reopens the case, you need to let them do their job.”

“You mean the way they did at the time? You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust they’ll get it any more right this time than they did then.”

There’s not really a lot he can say in argument to that.

“I should be there in a couple of hours. Then we’ll work on a statement for you to give to the vultures circling.”

“They’ve already been given a statement.”

“No, you gave them a few shallow words on the steps of the courthouse. Now they’re fighting for an exclusive sit-down interview with you.”

“Maybe I should give them one. I have a lot to share, after all.”

“We’ll discuss it. Please don’t make any rash decisions until I get there. I know your plan was to move into the house you bought before you were imprisoned, but you might need to hold off for a little longer.”

I sigh. “I’m not hiding, Peter.”

“I’m not asking you to hide. I just think we need to do things slowly.”

“Slowly.” I run my fingers over the headstone once more in goodbye, then stand and turn to make my way back toward the car. “I think fourteen years is slow enough, don’t you?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ASHLEY

I’m not ashamed to admit that I run away. I try not to let him see how much his words are affecting me, but I’m not sure if I’m successful or not. When I reach my car, I make sure the door is locked and rest my head against the steering wheel.

He’s lying about my parents. He has to be.

But why?

To mess with you. To upset you. Why else?

I jam my key into the ignition and start the car. The entire drive home from the cemetery, Zain’s words spin around my head.

I know he’s just trying to get under my skin. I know he was probably twisting the truth. But there’s a small part of me, a tiny voice in the back of my head, that questions my belief that he’s lying.

“Mom? Mom?” I’m calling her name before I even get through the front door. “Mom!”

She appears in the doorway of the kitchen. “Why are you shouting? What happened?”

“I need to ask you something.” I take off my jacket, hang it on the coat hook, then walk toward her.

“You look a little pale. Are you coming down with something?” She steps back into the kitchen, and I follow her, taking a seat at the table.

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