Page 126 of Ruthless Regret

“I’m not leaving.” And there it is, the fire in her eyes.

I study her for a moment, weighing her words.

Maybe she’s right—maybe she needs to be here for this. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Bishop steps into the room, breaking the tension. “Ready to make that call?”

Ashley sucks in a shuddering breath, then nods. “If Zain is.”

“Do it.” I know I’m being abrupt, distant, but I can’t afford to be anything else right now.

She takes out her cell, and taps the screen, then lifts it to her ear.

“Hi. It’s me … Ashley. Zain checked himself out of the hospital … Yes, he said he’d like to get that statement done now … okay … Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.” She ends the call, then fiddles with her cell for a second before looking up. “He’ll be here soon.”

I push myself up from the couch. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ashley stands as well, her eyes never leaving mine. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Am I ready? Maybe not. But I don’t have a choice.

“I’ve been ready for this for fourteen years.” I summon up a smile. “Just expected it to go a little differently.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

ASHLEY

I can’t sit still.Zain is upstairs, resting before the sheriff arrives. He insists that he’ll be ready when the time comes, but the exhaustion and pain etched into his face tells a different story. The stitches on his side aren’t even fully healed, yet he’s preparing for a confrontation that could turn dangerous at any second.

Bishop is with him, and Rook is outside. They’ve both assured me everything is under control, that we’re not in any danger, that they have everything covered.

I wish I could believe them.

At their instruction, I’m in the kitchen, waiting for McFadden to show up. The room looks almost ordinary, sunlight streaming through the windows, countertops gleaming. The blood has all gone. The broken plates and chairs have been replaced. But I can’t forget what happened here, no matter how many times I’ve scrubbed the floor or tried to convince myself it’s just another room.

The case files are spread out across the table. I don’t know where they came from, and I didn’t ask. Old newspaper clippings, police reports, witness statements—pieces of evidence McFadden buried after taking over as sheriff. And in the centersits the murder weapon. Still in the bag they put it in when they collected evidence from the scene.

Rook’s words to Zain when he produced the murder weapon come back to me. “Barlowe claimed he’d got rid of it, but a well placed bullet to the shoulder soon changed his tune.”

Everything is there, carefully positioned like bait in a trap.

My fingers twist together in my lap. This has to work.

The sound of a car pulling up outside sends my pulse racing. Bishop appears in the doorway.

“He’s here.”

I stand up. My legs are shaking, and there’s a second where I’m not sure I can move.

“Ashley?” Bishop’s voice breaks through the fear holding me in place, and I give him a nod.

“I’m okay.” I walk to the reception hall and wait. The sound of the car door closing, the crunch of McFadden’s boots on the gravel reaches me. My stomach twists and my heart beats faster.

I can do this.

There’s a knock on the front door. I count to ten, then open it. McFadden’s face is a mask of professionalism, but there’s something in his eyes—something dark and calculating—that makes my skin crawl.

“Ashley. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

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