Page 64 of Deny Me
Hugh whirled on the bigger man. “Do I?”
Saint’s eyes were narrowed on King’s cousin. “When did he tell you all this, Hugh?” he asked quietly.
Hugh glared at the three of them in turn, his body quivering with emotion, before speaking. “He called me after he spoke to her this morning.”
Saint nodded. Hugh opened his mouth to speak, but Warren and Christy arrived then, their swollen eyes and devastated faces another one-two punch to King’s gut.
Hugh was right. King had done this. If Wes had committed suicide because he’d lost his chance with Charlotte…how could King not be to blame?
He stood, helpless, unable to reach guilty hands out to hug his aunt and uncle. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Christy broke down. Warren gathered her against him, his face grim, but when he met King’s eyes, there was no malice there. “You saw him?” he choked out.
Held him. Railed at him for doing this.“I did.”
“Was he… Did he…did he suffer?” Warren asked, gaze begging for a no.
King gave it to him. “No, he didn’t.” Whatever had caused the agony that drove Wes to this must have been excruciating, but physically… “He didn’t suffer.”
An officer cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “Ma’am, sirs?” He waited until all of them turned in his direction. “We need to ask you to wait outside while the…while Mr. Moncrief is removed, please.”
Christy broke into a fresh set of tears. Dain herded the family through the living space, and Saint herded King. His feet moved automatically, his mind centered on the stairs leading up to Wes, not the door leading outside. But Saint kept him on the right path, and next thing he knew, he was standing outside with the breeze cooling his heated face and scratchy eyes. He made it about five steps before he stopped and faced the door.
“King.”
He shook his head at Saint’s urging. “I need to see him. I need to watch.” Stand witness to the final moments of his cousin’s body, if not his soul. Lord willing, Wes’s soul was somewhere far, far more beautiful than here by now.
Saint took position behind his shoulder and waited with him. About ten minutes later, the sound of rattling and metal bumping wood and walls reached them. King braced himself, determined to do Wes right.
One attendant backed through the front door, pulling a gurney behind him draped in a long gray plastic bag. A body-shaped bag. Before they could pass, King stepped forward.
“Excuse me, sir, please—”
“Just a moment,” King said, the words rough but determined. “Please.”
The attendant at the head of the gurney nodded, and both stepped a few paces away.
Careful not to touch the bag, not wanting to disturb anything the coroner might need to see, he bent over his cousin’s body. “Wes…” His throat swelled shut, and he closed his eyes, coughed against the obstruction. Words formed behind his lips. Not accusations, not waling questions. None of those things were important right now. Only one thing was. “I love you, bro. Always.”
Stepping back, he watched as the gurney made its journey toward the transport. One more stop for Warren and Christy and Hugh, who glared King down the whole time, and then Wes was gone.
“What the hell have I done?” King whispered.
Dain heard the question as he approached, and reached for King’s shoulder. “You haven’t done anything, King. Charlotte never belonged to Wes, and Wes knew that.” His mouth twisted, his eyes unfocused as he seemed to consider his own words.
“That’s what confuses me too,” Saint said, voice low to keep it from carrying.
King had to admit he wasn’t tracking all that well. “What confuses you?”
The three of them moved toward their cars, still parked haphazardly near the curb. “We’ve spent a bit of time with Wes,” Saint said, “but I don’t know him well enough to know if he’d call his brother about a woman or not. Do you, King?”
Trying to focus, King considered the question, then shook his head. “It’s been too long. They seemed close enough last night at the charity event. No animosity, at least. And they walked out together.”
Saint cleared his throat. “Hugh might also be totally offtrack,” he pointed out. “If what we learned this morning is true, the person behind all this knows we’re closing in. Arnold says that person is Wes. She might be lying, but…Wes also might have simply been trying to escape the consequences of his actions.”
Dain scratched along the stubble peppering his cheek. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
