Page 32 of Ruthless Intent

I nod. “Yes, of course.”

My gaze tracks Zain as he walks to his car, and gets in. From where I’m standing, I can see him lift his phone to his ear. He talks for a minute or two, then starts the engine. He doesn’t even glance in my direction as he drives down the street.

“If you’re sure you’re okay, we’ll be going.”

I drag my attention away from the car disappearing down the road, and refocus on the officer in front of me.

“Yes, everything is fine.”

There’s no way I’m telling them what Zain said. If it was an empty threat, he wouldn’t have driven away and left me alone with the police. He means every word. If I speak up, my mom will be arrested on suspicion of murder. I know that the same way I know the sun will rise tomorrow.

“I’m really sorry about the call. I don’t know how I managed it.”

“It happens. As long as there aren’t any problems, we can let it go this time. But check your emergency features on your phone, in case it sends an automatic distress call.”

I force a smile. “Thanks, officer. I’ll do that.”

I step back and close the door, then spin so I can lean against it. Letting out a long breath, I look down at my hands. They’re shaking. My entire body is shaking. My gaze lands on the suitcase at the bottom of the stairs.

If I leave now, I could be back home before he even realizes I’m gone.

But what will happen to my mom then?

He’s not bluffing. I know he’s not.

Pushing away from the door, I drag the suitcase back up to my room, and unpack.

I can’t take that risk. I’d never forgive myself if I ran away and Zain followed through on his threat.

The door slams downstairs while I’m unpacking, and I drop everything to run to the stairs. I reach them just as Mom hangs up her coat.

“I need to talk to you.”

She looks up at me. “This is becoming a pattern. You don’t look very happy. There’s a police car outside. Did they come to see you? Ashley, what on earth happened while I was out?”

I stop on the bottom stair. “Were you involved in Jason’s death?”

Her lips part, close, then part again. “First you demand to know about my relationship with your father, and now this? What’s gotten into you?”

“Answer the question.”

“I shouldn’t have to answer it. You should know the truth.”

“After this morning, I’m beginning to think I don’t know anything about you!”

She stares at me for a second or two. “You’re serious,” she finally says. “You really think I would do something like that.”

“Just answer the question, Mom.”

“No, I was not involved in Jason’s death. And I’m disgusted that you would even think that.”

“Then why didn’t you care? Why did you act like it was all happening to a stranger on television?”

“That’s what you think? That I didn’t care?”

I don’t move, don’t take my eyes off her face, don’t speak.

She sighs. “Your memory of those weeks is so fragmented,” she says softly. “There was so much going on.”

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