Page 30 of Operator
Right?
As a precaution, I send myself a copy of the video and upload it to the cloud. I should tell Gwen. I can’t hide anything from her, not anymore. Too much has changed. But I can’t tell her until I know more. Not when she’s coming to terms with being a mother and running on zero sleep. It would devastate her. And she’s already fragile from the birth and the note as it is. My goal has been toreduceher stress. How the hell do I tell her?
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?” I glance up, unable to school my expression in time, and Gwen’s face falls. “What is it? Is it your dad?”
I balk, not having had enough time to reach a decision. Just seeing her scrambles my already scrambled thoughts. “No, sweetheart, he’s fine.”
She hesitates in the doorway, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Gnawing on her full lower lip, she considers me for a moment, then asks again, “Then what’s wrong?”
“Where’s the baby?” The deflection is lame, and she can see right through it.
“She’s sleeping in the bedroom. Don’t try to change the subject, Cal.”
Is there a way to word this without worrying her more? I sure as hell don’t think so, but I wish I had more time to give her more information. I try to buy myself a few hours. “We can talk about it later. You need to rest.”
Gwen settles down on the sofa next to me and lifts a questioning brow. “We can talk about it now. I think we’re past secrets at this point. Or I’ll do what you did to me and follow you, annoying the shit out of you until you tell me.”
I smile at that, but it’s a weak one. Damn woman. And to think I missed the Gwen who never gave me an inch. “I was checking the security camera footage from the day that Violet was born.” She smiles a little in memory. I rub at the back of my neck.
I guess the only way to proceed is to give it to her straight. I take her hand to soften the blow. “There’s someone on the footage coming in the house.”
Her hand tightens in mine. “What do you mean, someone on the footage? Like your mom or one of us?”
Shaking my head, I blow out of breath. “I don’t get a good look at their face, but it doesn’t look like anyone I know. Here you watch and tell me if you get someone you know or if it’s someone who is supposed to be here.”
I open the file to the video and hand Gwen my phone. She pushes play and watches in silence. She must reach the part when they walk inside because her mouth drops had been a little. She whispers, “What the hell?”
“I take it you don’t know them.”
She hands the phone back to me with shaking hands. “No, not at all. Jesus, that’s crazy. Who the hell would be in my house?”
I wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders, hating like hell that I’m the one to make her tremble. “It’s a good thing you have those cameras. Have you noticed anything missing or moved around?” I can’t believe I’m having to ask these questions. All this time and someone had been watching her, waiting for a moment of weakness. The thought hits me and leaves me breathless: she could have been hurt. My heart thunders in my ears as I try to school my features, so she isn’t aware of how fucking scared that makes me. Her being hurt is my worst fear realized. I already lost my brother…I’d die before I lost her, too.
Gwen shakes her head, pressing a hand to her temple. “Honestly, I barely know what I’m doing half the time these days. The only thing out of place was that letter from Ian. Cal, I promise I’ve been through his things a thousand times. I’ve never seen that letter before.”
“The only reason why someone would believe a letter like that is because they want us to think Ian committed suicide.” The hits just keep on coming. Someone was involved with Ian’s death. There’s no other conclusion. Had Gwen been right? Was it possible he hadn’t committed suicide after all? My throat locks down as I try to be strong for her. But goddamn, he was my brother. He’d died…for what? And why? I’d pushed him away for so long I hadn’t even known there was a problem.
She sucks in a breath and releases it slowly, and I notice her hands trembling as she squeezes them together in her lap. “Why would someone want to convince us Ian committed suicide? I’m the only one who ever suspected that it wasn’t.”
“Maybe they think you’re getting close to proving that he didn’t.” If that’s the case, she’s in even more danger than I thought. A cold sweat pops out over my skin.
“If that’s true, then it means someone killed him.” I expect her voice to be unsteady, but she says it with the conviction of someone finally having their intuition confirmed.
All I feel is guilt. Guilt for staying away for so long. Guilt that I had no idea Ian was even struggling, let alone involved in something so dangerous someone killed him for it. Guilt that I didn’t believe Gwen in the first place. She knew I wouldn’t, for Christ’s sake. Pushing those thoughts away, I ask, “Is there any reason why do you think someone would want to hurt Ian? Is there anyone that holds a grudge against him?”
Gwen waves the thought off like batting away a fly. “No, of course not. Everyone loved Ian. You know that.”
She’s not wrong. Ian had been easy-going, kind, and dependable. But he’d also been trusting, optimistic, and idealistic—the perfect target for someone looking to take advantage of someone’s vulnerabilities. I used to be the one to warn him away from the wrong sort of friends, or investment scams, or even women. I’d been the diligent big brother. Until I hadn’t.
“He didn’t talk to you about anything that could have been going wrong?” If he was going to tell anyone, it would have been Gwen. Then again, if he’d been involved in something that dangerous, maybe he was trying to protect her. It’s what I would have done.
“Nothing. That’s why it was such a shock when he died. I never knew anything was wrong. I mean, was I completely blind? Was I that bad of a wife?” A lone tear rolls down her cheek. It guts me to see her upset. This is why I wanted to keep it from her. Fuck.
I pull her against my chest and hold her close, rubbing a hand over her hair and in a long stroke down her back. “Don’t be stupid. If he didn’t want you to know, or he was trying to protect you, he would have done anything to hide what was happening.”
She sniffles against my shirt. “But I should have noticed something. How could I have been with him for so long and not known something was wrong?”
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper into her hair. I don’t know if I’m talking to her—or to myself. The heat from her skin burns through the thin material separating us. Any other time and it would be all I could think about. For now, all I want is to soothe us both by simply holding her.
