Page 45 of For Blood

Gregory's eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his throat.He knew exactly what she was asking, could feel the weight of her stare pressing down on him, pulling at something deep in his gut.A memory he'd spent twenty years trying to bury.

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry."I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Sarah leaned forward, her intensity palpable."You saw him," she continued, her voice low and certain."The night you found Lucas Hayes.You saw the killer."

Gregory's heart pounded in his chest.He shifted on the hard bench, his fingers digging into his arms.The cell felt smaller, the air thicker.He could almost smell the damp night air from that alley, hear the distant sirens.

"I told you," he managed, his voice rough."I don't know what I saw."

But even as he said it, the images flashed through his mind.A shadowy figure hunched over Lucas's body.The glint of something metallic.And those eyes—cold, piercing eyes that had haunted his nightmares for years.

Gregory looked away, unable to meet Sarah's gaze.He'd spent so long convincing himself it wasn't real, that he'd been too drunk to trust his own memory.But now, with Sarah's words hanging in the air between them, the truth he'd buried for two decades threatened to claw its way to the surface.

He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to speak.Because if he admitted what he'd seen that night, everything would change.And Gregory wasn't sure he was ready for that.

Sarah's unwavering gaze bore into Gregory, her eyes never blinking."It wasn't Whitaker," she stated, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

A muscle in Gregory's jaw twitched involuntarily.He remained silent, his heart hammering against his ribs.The weight of her words pressed down on him, threatening to crush the carefully constructed walls he'd built around that night.

"You know it wasn't," Sarah pressed, her voice steady and unrelenting.There was no anger in her tone, just a calm certainty that unnerved Gregory even more."We both do."

Gregory's fingers tightened on his arms, his nails digging into his skin through his shirt.He couldn't look at her anymore.His eyes darted towards the bars of the holding cell, seeking an escape that wasn't there.

The cold metal seemed to mock him, a physical representation of the trap he found himself in.Not just this cell, but the prison of his own silence that he'd locked himself in for twenty years.

He didn't want to talk about this.Didn't want to acknowledge the truth that Sarah was edging towards.Because if he said it out loud, if he admitted what he'd seen that night, it would become real.And once it was real, he couldn't take it back.

The memories he'd fought so hard to suppress threatened to overwhelm him.The alley, the body, the figure standing over it.Not Whitaker.Someone else.Someone he knew.Someone they all knew.

Gregory swallowed hard, his throat dry.He wanted to tell Sarah to stop, to leave it alone.But the words wouldn't come.Because deep down, a part of him knew it was time.Time to face what he'd seen, what he'd been running from for so long.

But still, he remained silent, trapped between the truth and the lie he'd lived with for two decades.

Sarah leaned forward, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper."It was Keller."

Gregory's breath caught in his throat, a sudden, sharp pain constricting his chest.He remained motionless, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond the cell bars, refusing to meet Sarah's penetrating gaze.The words hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating.

Because she was right.

The realization crashed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in its terrible certainty.His mind reeled, desperately grasping for something, anything to refute it.But the truth was there, stark and undeniable.

"No," Gregory whispered, more to himself than to Sarah.His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his gray hair, a gesture of frustration and denial."It can't be.You don't understand."

Sarah's eyes narrowed."What don't I understand, Gregory?"

He shook his head, memories flooding back unbidden."My nephew," he started, his voice hoarse."Andrew baptized him.Right there in that church."The image of the small boy, wrapped in a white cloth, being lowered into the water by Keller's steady hands, flashed before his eyes.

"We all went there," Gregory continued, his words coming faster now."Every Sunday.Easter service..."He trailed off, lost in the recollection."We sat in the front pew, all of us.Keller, he...he talked about redemption that day.About sacrifice."

Gregory could almost hear Keller's voice, warm and resonant, filling the church.He remembered the way the sunlight had streamed through the stained glass windows, bathing the congregation in a soft, multicolored glow.The memory felt so at odds with the cold reality of their current situation.

"The way he spoke," Gregory murmured, his eyes unfocused."You should have heard him, Sarah.The passion in his voice.It was like...like he could see right into your soul."He swallowed hard."After the service, everyone wanted to shake his hand.To thank him.The way they looked at him..."

Gregory's hands trembled as he ran them through his thinning hair, his fingers catching on the strands gone prematurely gray.He couldn't bring himself to meet Sarah's piercing gaze, instead focusing on a small crack in the concrete floor of their holding cell.

"He wasn't a killer," Gregory muttered, more to himself than to Sarah."He couldn't be."The words felt hollow, even as they left his lips.

For twenty long years, he had clung to that belief like a lifeline.It was easier to think he'd been too drunk that night, that the shadows in the alley had played tricks on his eyes.That the hulking shape he'd glimpsed, hunched over Lucas Hayes' broken body, was just a figment of his alcohol-addled imagination.

---