Page 136 of Truly Forever

Jacob slides his hand over and curls it around Reagan’s. She focuses on the detective. “Yes.”

Little’s posture intensifies. “Ms. Boswell, do you know a man named Skip Adams?”

“No.”

“What about you, Carpenter?”

Jacob says he doesn’t, and I suspect it’s the first truthful thing he’s said all morning.

“Let me tell you both about Skip Adams. He’s a notorious drug dealer in the next county over. And it just so happens he was shot outside his home on the night of August twenty-sixth."

My stomach sinks like a stone in a mill pond.

Jacob goes rigid and Reagan’s eyelids fly two-stories up.

“Either of you care to venture a guess as to what weapon was used in the attempted murder?”

“Attempted…murder?” Jacob’s color turns utterly ashen.

“That’s right. Shot once in the head and once in the chest. The victim is on life support, and according to the family, his prognosis is not good. If he dies…” Detective Little spreads his hands, staring pointedly, one at a time, at the kids. “Murder. One.”

If a pin dropped, every last one of us, plus John in the next room, would hear it.

“Now…let’s try this once more. Would anyone care to add anything to their story?”

I clutch Jacob’s hand. “Jacob, please, please tell Detective Little the truth.” He hasn’t, not yet.

“N-No. Like I said, the drugs were mi—”

“No!” Knifing through the small room, Reagan’s shout ends Jacob’s sentence. “I knew!”

“Reagan, no!Don’t.”

Her mascara is about to be damaged by the wetness suddenly spilling from her eyes. “I can’t let you do it, Jacob. I can’t let you.”

The detective leans in. “Do what, Ms. Boswell?”

“Reagan…”

“No, Jacob. I can’t let you do this! It isn’t right, and I can’t live with it. With lies.” She touches her stomach and faces Detective Little. “I knew the drugs were there. Jacob didn’t. He didn’t even knowIknew until yesterday."

I gasp.

"What happened yesterday?"

She continues to cradle her abdomen. "You called and asked me to come in today. I was afraid. I-I wanted us to have the same story.”

“Were the drugs yours, Ms. Boswell?”

“No.”

“Then whose were they?”

She bites her lip. “My brother Alex’s. And I’m not going to take the fall for him or let Jacob do it either!”

The detective snorts. “Admirable.”

Reagan stares into her lap. “I…” The knuckles on her clasped hands are as white as my son’s face. “I asked Alex…” Her swallow is almost a gag. “I needed money. I asked my brother to loan me some. At first, he said no, but then two days later, he told me he would give me the money, no payback required, if I’d do him one favor.” Her eyes dart to Jacob. To the detective.

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