Page 78 of Ruthless Regret

She meets my gaze, then nods. “Okay.”

I don’t waste any more time, taking the cup from her unresisting fingers and placing it in the sink, then walking to the door. She follows me out, and through the house. When I open the front door and walk outside, she hesitates. I unlock the car, then turn to face her.

“We need to do this.” My voice is firm. She doesn’t move. “Ashley.”

“I know. I’m coming.” She takes a single step forward, then stops.

I open the passenger door, then walk around to the driver’s side and climb in. By the time I have the engine running, she’s in her seat.

The drive across town is silent. Ashley stares out of the window, fingers twisting in her lap. When we reach the house, I park on the drive, cut off the engine, then twist in my seat to face her.

“I have an idea,” I offer into the silence.

She blinks, and turns her head. “What kind of idea?”

“I want to walk us through what I did back then. We’ll retrace my steps.” I’ve been thinking about this for the entire drive over. “If you’re forgetting something, maybe I am too.”

Her tongue sweeps out over her lips. “Do you think you are?”

“No … but neither did you. And maybe knowing what happened before you got here might help with your memories as well.”

She nods, unclips her belt and opens the door. I follow her lead, and meet her as she rounds the front of the car.

“Did you say there was a fire?” Her voice is soft.

“Yeah. The front door has been replaced. There’s minimal damage inside, thankfully.” I walk to the door, and unlock it.

The house is quiet. Ashley hesitates on the threshold. I walk across the hall to turn off the alarm, while I wait for her. She’s in the doorway, when I turn around.

I lean past her to close the door, and then turn to face the entrance hall.

“They’d gone out of town for a doctor’s appointment. They were trying to keep the news of Louisa’s pregnancy quiet.” I tell her. “It was my turn to cook dinner. But I drove down to the beach and took a nap, so I was late coming home. ”

“When I got home that night, the front door was open. The alarm was off. Neither really flagged in my head as being unusual. Louisa was a pain in the ass for not locking the door. And with them both being home, the alarm wouldn’t have been on anyway. I walked into the house, and went to the kitchen.”

We reach the kitchen. I turn to face her. “I dumped the food on the table, then checked in the living room to see if they were in there.”

She follows me as I retrace my steps along the hall and open the living room door. “It was empty. Something else that wasn’t really unusual. Unless we were hanging out together, we often stayed in our rooms. We liked having our own space. But I wanted to apologize for not being here when they got home, so I went upstairs.”

We walk back into the hall, and stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think it was around then that I got the feeling that something wasn’t right.” I place my foot on the first step. “I didn’t pay attention to the feeling, dismissing it, and hurried up to their room.”

Walking up the stairs takes a lifetime. In my head, I watch as the younger me takes the same path up the stairs and along the hall, then coming to a stop outside a door.

I rest my palm on the wood. “The door was closed, and I couldn’t hear anything. But there was a weird smell in the air. One that I didn’t really pay attention to.” I’m whispering now.

I take a breath, my hand still resting on the door.

“I knocked. No answer. So I knocked again, louder.” My knuckles rap against the wood, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. “Still nothing. That’s when I really started to worry.”

I turn the handle, pushing the door open slowly. The room beyond is a replica of that night. Everything is set up exactly how it was in the crime scene photographs. I wait for her to ask why it’s like that. She won’t like the answer. But she doesn’t. She just sucks in a sharp breath.

“The smell grew stronger when the door opened. Metallic. Coppery.” I swallow. “The lights were off, but there was enough coming through the window to see …” Memories hit me with startling clarity. “Jason was on the floor. Louisa on the bed. There was so much fucking blood.”

I move further into the room, replaying the scene in my head. “I ran to Jason first. He was closer. I knelt beside him.” I drop to my knees on the rug, the fake blood stain spreading out across it. “He was alive, but barely. All he could say was Louisa’s name.”

“Jason was on the bed, and you were standing over him when I came in.”

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