Page 19 of By Sin To Atone

“My mom had a thing.”

“Bluebird what?”

“Bluebird Smith.” I rub the tip of my nose with my free arm, then wipe away the involuntary tears he’s forcing.

“Bluebird Smith?” His eyebrows disappear into his hairline but I just nod. “Okay, Bluebird Smith. Tell me. What do you know about the events of the night my father’s car went off a cliff?”

6

Ezekiel

Bluebird Smith. I believe the Bluebird part. It’s too odd a name to make up. But the last name is a lie.

I push the needle past the resistance of skin and hear her intake of breath. It hurts, I know. I couldn’t lessen the pain if I wanted to and I’m not sure I want to.

“I need a break,” she says.

I look at her. She’s pale. I’d be surprised if she didn’t need a break, actually.

“I’m going to be sick,” she adds.

“Breathe.” I wait, watch her as she does as she’s told. I’m surprised by her naiveté. Her trust, almost. In me. It tells me a few things. She’s not the experienced criminal I expected my blackmailer to be. And she’s in way over her head.

“Better?” I ask and she nods. “Good. Now answer my question.”

“I… Not much,” she says. I wait. Tug a little at the stitch making her wince. It’s mean but she has only herself to blame for her predicament and I don’t just mean the cut. “I know your brother, Jericho, has seen video footage of you coming and then leaving a hotel in Austria on the night of the accident.” I still don’t continue because how the hell does she know that? “He had been in touch with the manager about it. And your name isn’t anywhere on the hotel guest list on any night in that whole week. That’s all. That’s all I know.”

“That’s all? So, you decided to blackmail me for being in a hotel in Austria?”

“You took the bait, didn’t you? What does that say?”

No way that’s all. I shift my gaze back to her hand to close off that stitch, tugging at the skin a little as I make the knot. She winces.

“Keep talking,” I tell her.

She reaches for the whiskey, but I push it away. “You’ve had enough.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I just don’t want you passing out before I get my answers. Ready?”

She swallows, nods.

I look at her again after pushing the needle in for stitch number four. “Keep talking, Blue.”

“I know your brother paid the hotel manager a chunk of cash to get rid of the footage, but he didn’t.”

Jericho had paid him to have those files erased. That much I know. “And he got hold of you and wanted to know if you wanted to buy a video of me coming and going from a hotel? Sounds logical,” I say.

“He suspected you of tampering with the car. He said as much. You threw away a duffel bag he picked up.”

Ah.

She pauses because I must give something away. It was stupid on my part to throw that duffel away at the hotel.

“Why else would you have been there at that hotel in disguise?” she asks, eyes intent on me, a note of confidence to her tone.

“I’d hardly say I was disguised.”

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