Page 39 of Dangerous Lies

The chief nodded. “Everything checks out. At this time, we don’t have any reason to believe Wesley is involved in the attacks against Megan Ingles.”

Jax exhaled, his knees going weak with relief.

Wesley’s expression tightened as his attention zeroed in on Jax. Hurt flashed in his eyes before it was masked behind a shield of armor. “You actually believed I had something to do with it.”

He shook his head. “Wes?—”

“Don’t.” Wesley’s jaw flexed, his voice tight with restraint. “I spent the last ten days in the middle of nowhere, fishing, hiking, minding my own business. I come back to town and discover my own brother—someone who should know me better than anyone—thought I was capable of attempted murder.”

Valentina sat silently in the chair, her fingers twisted in her lap, her eyes darting between her sons. Jax opened his mouth, but Greg didn’t give him a chance to answer.

“You put that woman above your own family.” His father’s voice was low, vibrating with contained fury. “We lost Oliver, and instead of standing with us, you’re off defending the very person responsible for his death.”

Jax felt his own anger ignite. His father’s grief was like a raw wound, but that didn’t make his accusations true. He met Greg’s heated glare head-on. “She didn’t kill Oliver. They were run off the road. If you let the investigation finish, then I’m sure it’ll prove?—”

“Do you hear yourself?” Greg’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t know what it’s like to bury a child, Jax. You don’t know what it’s like to live with the kind of grief that makes you want to scream every single day.” His voice wavered, just slightly, before he pulled himself together again. “All I know is that Oliver was fine until she came into his life. And now he’s gone.”

Jax’s chest ached. He understood his father’s pain. He did. But it didn’t change the truth.

“I miss him too, Dad,” Jax said, his voice thick with emotion. “But blaming Megan won’t bring him back. Catching the person who ran them off the road won’t fix our pain either. Nothing we do will bring Oliver back. He’s gone.”

A broken sob escaped Valentina as she buried her face in her hands. Greg’s anger didn’t waver, but his touch was gentle as he placed a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder. Then, pinning Jax with a hard stare, he said, “You’ve developed feelings for that woman, and it’s blinding you to the truth.”

“No, Dad. We’ve let out grief turn into anger, and it’s eating us alive. Do you think this is what Oliver would have wanted for us? Do you think this is what God wants for us? This isn’t who we are.”

They were making the same mistake Oliver had—drowning in their pain. Instead of seeking support from each other and grieving together, they were channeling their heartache into a wall of hatred. A different coping mechanism, but just as destructive.

Jax turned to his brother. It was time for some hard, honest truths. “I’m sorry. I never thought you were guilty, but I won’t lie and say there were moments of doubt. You’ve locked me out. You’ve locked all of us out, hiding away in your cabin and leaving town for days on end without any way to contact you. I don’t know what you’ve been through. I won’t pretend to understand. But I also won’t apologize for being scared about your well-being.”

Wesley exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable, but Jax could see the war happening behind his brother’s eyes. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something—might let his guard down—but then his jaw tightened. He turned to Chief Garcia, his voice flat. “Are we done here?”

The chief nodded. “For now.”

Wesley didn’t say another word as he walked out of the office. Greg hesitated for only a second before helping Valentina—still shaking with quiet sobs—out of her chair. Without another glance in Jax’s direction, he followed their youngest son out the door. The sound of his mother’s quiet weeping lingered in the room.

Jax felt like he’d just been ripped in half.

And somehow, he had a sinking feeling that the worst wasn’t over yet.

TWENTY-TWO

Firelight flickered across the living room, casting warm shadows along the floor. Megan curled her legs beneath her on the couch, her untouched tea cooling at her elbow. Instead of drinking it, she ran her fingers over the scrawled letters in the margins of her father’s Bible.

You are never alone. God is always with you.

Her gaze drifted to the window. Jax was out there, walking the perimeter. They hadn’t spoken much since returning from the police station. Noah had told her Wesley was cleared of all suspicion, so she’d expected Jax to be relieved. Instead, he’d been distant. Whatever had been said in the chief’s office had hurt him deeply, and she didn’t know how to help. So she prayed.

“Megan.”

She looked up to see Nana standing in the arched entryway, her hair in curlers, her nightdress and robe swallowing her petite frame. In her hands, she held a cup of tea. “I’m going to bed, sweetheart. There’s fresh coffee on the stove and a plate of sandwiches in the fridge for the Special Forces boys on duty tonight.”

Megan nodded. Her grandmother shuffled across the room on slippered feet and brushed a kiss against Megan’s head. The move made her feel small. Tears she hadn’t known were banked rose to the surface. If Rose was startled by them, it didn’t show. Instead, she set her tea down and gathered Megan in her arms. “Oh, sweetie.”

“I don’t know why I’m crying.” The tears fell fast and hot.

“Well, you’ve been through the wringer these last few days.” Nana pulled some tissues out of a box on the side table before handing them to Megan. “But if I had to guess, I’d say these tears might have something to do with a certain tall, handsome detective.”

She blotted her face, a flush rising in her cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”

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