Page 9 of Sweet Revenge
“That doesn’t seem like something that would cause you to rush here from…wherever,” he said with a dismissive wave.
She took a slow sip of coffee. “Well, it was.”
He sighed. She was determined to be difficult, it seemed. “Any idea who might’ve done this?”
“You’d know better than me, I think. Piss anybody off lately?”
He chuckled. “No more than usual. Preliminary thoughts from McGee are murder/suicide.” He noted the anger that flashed in her eyes. He took it as a good sign.
“There’s no fucking way. Why would he think that?”
“Because your mother was stabbed several times, but your father was found with a single bullet wound to the head.”
She flinched, fingers flexing on the coffee cup. “He wouldn’t do that.” She cleared her throat. “He wouldn’t.”
“I agree. We should have the results of the autopsy in a few hours. I told him I’d bring you by to discuss funeral arrangements. And I called Nessa.”
Evie nodded, eyes focused on a spot over his shoulder before sliding to his face. “How did she sound?”
“Devastated. With a million questions I can’t answer for her. I told her to meet us at McGee’s.”
“Yeah. Okay. Hell of a family reunion,” she mumbled, taking a sip of coffee.
“Where have you been, Evie?” The question slipped out. He’d thought to give her more time before asking questions like that, but he had a right to know where she’d gone. And why.
“I left. Does it really matter where I went?”
“That’s your answer? That it doesn’t matter? That we didn’t matter? That you leaving didn’t matter?” He spat the last words, barely leashing the anger simmering just below the surface.
“That’s not what I said.”
“Maybe, but it’s what you meant. If you expect me to help you, the least you could do is be honest with me.”
She snorted, shoving to her feet. “I didn’t ask for your help, Declan, and frankly, I don’t want it. The fact that it's got strings means not a damned thing has changed anyway. Where’s my car?”
“What the hell does that mean?” His grip tightened on the coffee cup in his hand, and he forced himself to relax it.
“It means I want to change my clothes and bury my parents and get the hell out of here. I’m not here to dredge up the past. It’s done. My car. Where is it?”
Declan wanted to push her, wanted to know that she’d hurt as much as he had over the last decade, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not with the way she looked last night covered in blood fresh in his mind or the way her voice broke when she talked about her parents.
He reached into his pocket and drew out her keys, setting them on the counter between them. “Finn drove it over last night. I imagine he’s already trying to talk Cait into buying one.”
She frowned. “Cait? Why?”
“Because they’ve been married for about eight years now.”
That one caught her off guard. Whatever Evie talked about with her mother, Mary Elizabeth had never mentioned that Evie’s childhood best friend married Declan’s brother. She’d said last night that she only spoke to her mother and that no one else knew. He wanted to know more about that, more about everything, but he was patient enough to wait for the right moment.
“Where are you going?” he demanded when she scooped her keys off the counter and headed for the elevator, jumping up to head her off.
“I keep a bag in my car with extra clothes. Unless you want me to go to McGee’s looking like this.” She gestured down the length of her body.
“I don’t want you going anywhere like that. I’ll get it,” he added, ignoring the annoyance that flitted across her face.
“I thought the elevator was private.”
“It is, but the parking garage isn’t.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Keys.”
