Emmett leans down, watching the video. “Where did you get this?”
“After hours of going through footage that a source pulled, I found a recording of Brielle arguing with someone outside her office two weeks prior to the incident. It was late and the tape is very fuzzy, but it appeared that she was upset. Her hand was on a boy’s shoulder, and she was pulling him behind her as she argued with who I assumed to be one of the child’s parents.”
“And she mentioned this before the shooting?” he asks.
“No.”
We talked about our days, her work, my lack of work, and everything else, but she never brought up an altercation at work. The date shows it happened on a night we didn’t see each other, but we always talked.
Every day.
“Well, you’ve gotten much further than I care to admit we have.”
“I have motivation and resources that you don’t. Not to mention, I don’t give a shit about the law or the prosecution’s case.”
Emmett nods slowly. “Yeah, but . . . still.”
I shrug. “It’s the best answer I can come up with. It’s at least a thread I can’t tie up neatly. It also gives you a possible person of interest. You just need to find out who that guy is.”
Emmett raises a brow. “You make it sound so easy.”
“I know.”
I already spent hours combing over that angle. Identifying the target was the best place to start.
“Okay, but what if Isaac was the target?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, just wanting to get back to work. “If the lead on Brielle and this video goes cold, then I’ll start over again. I’ll reexamine it from Isaac being the target, but I’m going off my instincts and what the evidence I have is showing.”
He nods slowly. “You’re not far off from my theory. I just don’t know anyone in this town who would go after either. Jesus, they talked about making a statue of Isaac if he won states. And Brie, well, she’s a damn angel. She works with all those kids, giving time and money to make the programs successful. Who the hell could hate her?”
“That’s what I need to find out. Whoever she was in that confrontation with is suspect number one. Once I’m allowed to talk to her in a few hours, I can explain all of this to her. We can talk about everything, figure out a plan, and . . .” I can’t even finish because it sounds ridiculous. “I’m a fucking idiot. She doesn’t care about this.”
He looks up at me with confusion in his eyes. “You don’t think she cares about catching her brother’s killer?”
I look at the ceiling, letting out a loud sigh. “Of course she does, but that’s not going to fix us. I can find the killer, have him arrested, and she still will feel like I betrayed her.”
“Is that what she was upset about?”
“Yeah, after I sent you that text, she remembered everything. I love her, Emmett. You know that proposing to her, giving her my entire fucking heart when I am the way I am, wasn’t easy. I can’t lose her. I can’t live my life without her, and . . . she knows in her soul that I love her. Once the wait time is up, I’m going to go over there and beg her to let me explain.”
“You can’t.”
“What do you mean, I can’t?”
He gets to his feet and lifts his hands before dropping them. “You can’t go talk to her.”
“I abided by their rules, I waited twenty-four hours.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I stare at my best friend, feeling a sense of dread. “Explain.”
I can only get one word out because I already know what’s coming. I don’t have to see the facts laid out to understand the outcome here. But then, this stupid fucking part of me, this hopeful sliver in my shredded heart, wants to believe otherwise.
Brielle wouldn’t do this.
She wouldn’t walk away.