Page 61 of Conflicted Lies

“What do you see when you look at me?” I ask self-consciously. I’m curious as to how I come across from the outside. I’ve never much cared before, but suddenly, I do.

She seems surprised by the question but smiles. “A girl who, for the most part, can handle her tequila considering her size.”

I laugh, and it dispels the self-consciousness I was feeling before. She continues. “But you’re one of the most incredible people I know, and not because we grew up together. I see a woman who shouldn’t be fucked with. I think there’s a side to you that even you’re not ready to expose. And I won’t pry until you’re ready to tell me about it. But you know, no matter what, that you can tell me.”

A small wave of relief passes through me. Ivy, always the socialite, is surprisingly perceptive. But her true value is her ability to be a vault when it comes to secrets. If I give her a job, like cutting out a particular property’s security, she does it, no questions asked, and money exchanged. Maybe one day I can tell her, but I’m still scared of how she’ll react.

My phone rings again, and I huff, irritated. This time, Braxton’s name appears.

Like fuck I’m answering his call.

My agent calls again. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumble, and Ivy tries not to laugh. Ivy and Billie always laugh when I become flustered because it’s so opposite to my calm and steady nature. I think it’s also why Ivy tries to rile me up sometimes.

“It must be important if she’s been calling all night. Just answer it,” she says, patting me on the back. It’s probably something to do with our flight in two days.

I answer the call. “Oh, thank fuck you picked up,” Candice says. Okay, so I’ve never heard her swear. “It’s bad, Hope.”

“What is?” I ask, my head starting to spin again from the tequila.

She’s silent for a moment. “It’s about Kylie. She’s dead.”

CHAPTER33

Braxton

For the first time in many years, I’m shocked. I stare at the cold, lifeless body of Kylie, who was strangled from behind with what looks like the belt of a dress. She’s still propped up, sitting in the chair of her lover’s home.

The man who owns the home is in hysterics in the corner as he’s being interrogated by a couple of officers who were first on the scene. I wasn’t far behind them.

I look at the window that was easily unlatched from the outside and allowed the killer to break in.

I walk over to the man, still reeling from whatever the fuck is happening right now. “I’ll take over here,” I say, interrupting the police officer who’s asking questions. He continues to note things down as I lead the interrogation.

“So, you’re telling me you and Kylie were involved romantically?” I really don’t care about her having a partner, but I know Lucas never mentioned him. Then again, maybe he was aware of her new beau and didn’t think he was good enough for her. The house is run down, in a bad area of town, and there’s no security system or cameras. I imagine for someone who cared so much about reputation, Kylie wanted to keep this relationship private.

“Y-yes,” he sobs. “I loved her. We were just celebrating her new collection. We’d just been… Oh God,” he cries and looks up. “We’d just made love, and I was making her favorite tea in the kitchen. And when I came back—” He chokes on his words.

My eyebrows dip. It’s highly possible he killed her himself, but my gut is telling me otherwise. “You didn’t hear any struggle?”

He looks over to the old record player. “No. We were listening to her favorite track. Maybe if I checked the latch to the window… Maybe if I did something different, this night…” He begins to ramble, and I excuse myself. The police officers will take him in, and I can interrogate him when he comes back to his senses. If he ever does. The scene is gnarly. Her eyes and mouth are wide open.

My lips draw thin. This doesn’t make any sense. The killer has only killed men so far. So, I have to ask again: are we dealing with multiple killers? The problem with this particular murder is how close I am to this victim personally.

Fuck. I think about Lucas. I try to call him again, but he doesn’t answer.

Fuck.

“Close her eyes at least,” I snap to the person placing markers and taking photos. Fuck, this is so bad.

A commotion begins to stir outside the room, and I know without seeing him that Lucas has arrived. He would’ve heard it over the radio. I catch him before he walks into the room, blocking his view.

“Let me in! I have to see her!” Lucas yells. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know how to console him or give him answers to a crime that we are far from tying up. This… This will break him.

“Lucas!”

“No!” he shouts and punches me in the jaw. It has enough force behind it, I stumble back, and he falls into the room on his hands and knees. He looks up, and a guttural cry seeps from his soul. I close my eyes, trying my hardest to block it out.

Kylie should have never been involved.

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