Page 63 of Ruthless Intent

What if she does reach out and tell someone what I’m doing?

Well, I’ve already made plans for that as well.

If she runs, or breaks her silence, or refuses to comply, an email will be sent to the police with an attachment full of evidence that could potentially be used to point at Esme Trumont as the real murderer of her stepson and his girlfriend. At the very least, it will give sufficient reason for her to be taken to the station for questioning.

Do I really think that Esme Trumont murdered Jason and Louisa? No, I don’t.

Do I think she will really go to prison based on the evidence I can supply? Also no.

What I have is barely even circumstantial, and only works as a reason when taken out of context. Once the police look at the information around what I have, they’ll see that she’s innocent. But all I need is the initial response—her being taken in for questioning—which will scare Ashley, and send the message that everything I threaten her with will come true if she doesn’t do what I want.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

ASHLEY

Jessa-Mae and Karla won’t stop calling me. The constant calling is driving me crazy. From the three voice messages I did listen to, I know that Scott has called them. Between the three of them, no matter what I said to Jessa or sent as a text, they’ve decided that something is wrong and have threatened to travel to Whitstone to talk to me face-to-face. I send Jessa-Mae and Karla one last message in our group chat, asking them not to come to see me, or bring Scott, and that I’d be in touch soon, and then turn off my cell.

Hopefully that’ll be enough to keep them away, but knowing my friends as I do, it wouldn’t surprise me to find them on the doorstep in the next twenty-four hours. I’ll have to warn Zain, or he’ll think I arranged for them to visit on purpose.

He’s made his intentions clear. He is marrying me to punish me for witnessing him standing over the body of my brother, for believing with every part of me that he was responsible for the deaths. I’m not sure what his plans are for once we’re married, but I know that if he thinks I’ve told them anything, he’ll turn his attention to my mom.

Until I know exactly what information he thinks he has on her, I can’t push him too far. But on the other hand, if he thinks I’m going to just roll over and do everything he wants without any argument, then he’s in for a surprise. He might have initially caught me off-guard, but I didn’t get to be twenty-seven years old by being a pushover, and not looking after myself.

Yes, I signed a contract that gave him control over my life, but that doesn’t mean he can break the law or hurt me.

Not knowing what he’s planning to do over the next fourteen months fills me with anxiety, I can’t deny that, but the logical part of my brain is insistent that he’s not going to do anything that would result in the police coming to his door. I doubt that he’s going to risk that kind of attention. And I don’t think he wants to go back to prison.

Maybe he’s just angry. Maybe if I give him what he wants, he’ll realize that forcing me to marry him won’t make him feel any better. It won’t give him back the years he’s lost.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come back to Whitstone.

Would that have changed anything? He already admitted that he planned to find you. You’d still be in the same situation. His original plan might have been even worse. He said he’d intended to see your mom behind bars. At least this way, she’s not going to suffer from that.

And if I can find a way to protect my mom, then I’ll be able to get out of this marriage. He can’t watch me all the time. I’m sure I will be able to find something.

And it’s that faint hope I cling to while I get ready to meet him again that evening.

Mom arrives home around five. To distract myself from the evening ahead, I’ve prepared dinner for us both. Zain didn’t say anything about going out for food, and I refuse to starve myself just in case he’s made plans he hasn’t told me about.

We sit at the kitchen table to eat, and I push the food around my plate while I try to figure out a way to tell her that I’m seeing Zain again. She doesn’t notice my silence as she chatters about her day. She owns an antique shop in town with her friend. I’m not sure it actually makes a profit, but they seem to enjoy it, and I’m pretty confident it’s just a place where she, and her friends can go without being bothered by anyone else.

“Ashley … Ashley!”

My gaze snaps up to where she’s staring at me from across the table.

“Did you hear a word I said?”

“Yes?”

She snorts. “I’ve been talking solidly for the past five minutes and you have barely even grunted in reply.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong? You’ve been in your own world since I got home.”

I poke at the chicken breast on my plate, then give up the pretense that I’m eating and drop the fork to the table.

“I’m going out with Zain tonight.”

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