Page 65 of Death in the Family
“In the library.” I needed to know for sure.
“Yeah.”
“And then?”
“She saw us. Bebe,” Ned said weakly. “Me.”
I didn’t understand, and then, all at once, I did. He was talking about Abella. What she’d witnessed in the shed.
Tim’s calls were getting closer, more urgent. “So you wanted to talk to Abby. Explain why you did it.”
Ned nodded. “I thought it was Jasper by the window, but itwasn’t. Abby told me last night. I needed to make her understand it was just one time. That it was the only way to get away from Flynn.”
“One time,” I repeated, confused. “You mean you and Bebe—”
“It was supposed to be Flynn who saw. He was in the library. If he saw me with Bebe... that would end it. He’d kick my ass, probably try to kill me, but he’d let me go. I had to do it. Jas was going to propose this weekend—today, Jade said. I was out of time.” He paused to swallow and catch his breath. “I had to make Abby understand everything I did was so I could be free of Flynn. Be withher. She wasn’t sure about Jas, did you know that? I don’t think she would have said yes.” The momentary hope in Ned’s voice gave way to despair as he remembered how Abella felt didn’t matter, not anymore. “She was talking about going to Europe, traveling for a while instead of taking a new job. I’ve got money and an uncle in London. I told her we could stay with him. She was into it. She was.”
I almost felt sorry for Ned, listening to him describe this chimerical future with his best friend’s girl. I wondered if it might have worked out between them, had she lived long enough to make her choice. It would take a tremendous amount of love to justify marrying into a family like this.
“Did you go upstairs last night? Tell me, Ned.”
“I... thought I could wake her up.”
A chill shot through me. I waited.
“I just wanted to get her away from him so we could talk. I didn’t kill him, I swear on my life,” Ned said. And then he told me the one and only thing that could make me believe it.
In that dark little room I felt something way down at the base of my spine, where hunches that grow into theories are born. “What time was this?”
“Around three.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“No. I went back downstairs. Walked away. I thought,” he said thickly, “if Jas was gone, there’d be nothing to stop us.”
“Open the door!” Tim bellowed on the other side of the wall. “Open this fucking door right now!”
“You’re not a murderer,” I told Ned. “Give me the gun.”
The sound he made was small, but the misery it carried was something I’m not sure I’ll ever forget. With a quiet clack Ned set the gun down on the nightstand, and I unlocked the bedroom door.
Tim’s flashlight beam hit me square in the eyes. In seconds he had Ned against the wall.
“Don’t,” I said when Tim reached for his cuffs. He tilted his head in confusion, but obliged me. Left the handcuffs where they were, and grabbed Ned’s arm instead.
“The power outage. Ned made a run for it. You okay?” Tim’s voice was surprisingly shaky. “What did this bastard do to you?”
“I’m fine,” I said. Tim’s timing was perfect. “Ned just told me who killed Jasper and Abella.”
THIRTY
The hallway was dim, the only light a faint orange glow emanating from the dying fire in the parlor. Tim marched Ned in front of him while I brought up the rear. The soles of my boots came down on broken glass that crackled under my weight, and I remembered the sounds I’d heard earlier. There were blade-sharp hunks of crystal all over the floor and wet spots on the hallway wall. Someone had flung their wineglass straight out the parlor door.
“What’d I miss?” I whispered as I holstered my firearm once more.
“Sibling infighting,” Tim replied, unimpressed. “I swear, these brats are grounded.”
As my eyes adjusted to the hazy light of the parlor I saw what remained of our group of suspects. Bebe, by the window, was nowconspicuously sans wineglass. Miles and Jade sat side by side on a couch, as far away from everyone as they could get. After hours on his feet, Norton had finally given up and taken a seat, but not before lighting the candles on the mantel. The flames flickered wraithlike on the walls. And then there was Flynn, still shirtless and sweating next to the hearth.
