Page 97 of Ruthless Intent

He moves with a speed that takes my breath away, and I find myself propelled backward into the house. He kicks the door shut behind him, and keeps moving until my back hits the wall. His hands stay on my shoulders, pinning me in place.

“Who else should I focus my anger on, Ashley? Who the fuck was the person on the stand pointing at me and telling the jury that I was a monster?”

His fingers bite into my shoulders and he shakes me.

“You think now you’ve admitted you lied that I should just let it go? Let you go? Do you think a few deep breaths and focusing on peace and love will make everything better? Maybe I should take up yoga? You think that’ll help?”

“It might.” I mutter the words.

“You fucking ruined my life with your lies.”

“I didn’t know I was lying!”

“Bullshit.”

“You saw the same video I did, Zain. How do you explain it?”

“I think you changed your story on purpose.”

“Why? Why would I do that?” I plant one hand against his chest and shove. “Why the hell would I tell the police you murdered my brother if I didn’t believe it?”

He doesn’t move, so I shove him again, using both hands.

“For someone who claims to have spent years planning this out, you really haven’t thought it through, have you?”

“What is there to think through?”

“Are you really that dense? Or have you been so focused on me, that you ignored everything else?”

“There is nothing else!”

“Of course there is.” And the little thing that’s been niggling at the back of my mind since I watched both of the interviews surges forward. “You said no one knew Louisa was pregnant.”

“And?”

“And? And?” Annoyance strips away any shred of fear I have left of the man standing in front of me. “If no one knew, then why did Detective Holson ask you who the father of her baby was?”

The color drains from Zain’s face, and he rocks back as though I’ve struck him.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

ZAIN

Well, fuck …

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

ZAIN

My initial instinct is to lash out, to tell her she has no idea what she’s talking about. But the second she says the detective’s name, the memory of that part of the interrogation hits me like a baseball bat to the face.

I’d been too upset, too confused at the time to question how he knew. I just took it for granted that he did. He was a member of the police force, a detective. Of course he knew everything.

But Ashley is right.

How did he know? No one knew, except me.

And more to the point, why haven’t I ever thought about it before?

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