Page 117 of Sinister Legacy
“Circumstantial again,” my father says calmly. “It’s far-fetched to link his apparent obsession with Jimmy Hill’s daughter to the murders of his friends.”
“Yes, and my job will be to convince a jury of that.”
I swallow past the thick lump in my throat. This is all a fucking nightmare.
“They will present their theory, claiming the killer harbored an obsession with Keira and her dark legacy.” His eyes land on me. “The obsessed student with a troubled past goes after the popular quarterback’s girlfriend. He eventually gains her trust. They start an affair, and she’s clueless about the fact that her new lover is watching her from afar, photographing her with her boyfriend. I’m sure we can all admit that it looks bad. King, you photographed Keira and her boyfriend having sex.”
Averting my gaze, I gnash my teeth.
Sure, I have an obsession with her. An unhealthy desire to watch her and fuck her and love her. Maybe I wanted Liam gone and out of the picture. So fucking what? I didn’t murder my friends.
“A jury won’t take kindly to that. They could even be so clouded by the images the prosecution presents them with, that they look past the fact that your fingerprints or DNA were nowhere near the dead bodies.”
I say nothing else.
Beside me, my father scrubs a hand over his face. “Why did you take those photos, son? Why?”
My shoulders shrug a little. “I got a rush from it. Wanted to feel close to her. I felt like… like I got to know her a little bit better every time I snapped another picture.”
Neither man speaks. They both watch me like I have a screw loose.
“What about when you photographed Keira having sex with her boyfriend? Did you like that, too?” my father asks, his voice strained.
“No,” I admit. “I wanted to kill him for touching what was mine.”
“That’s the conclusion the jury will come to,” Mr. Morton says. “Liam is missing. They’ll be out for blood until he is found—hopefully alive.”
“Did you have something to do with it?” my father asks me.
The lie slips easily from my lips. “No. I didn’t kill anyone.”
If they believe me or not, I don’t know. I don’t even care.
“When can I call her?” I ask.
They exchange glances, and Mr. Morton clears his throat. “It’s best if you don’t contact her.”
My gaze slowly lifts to his, then I look at my father. “When can I call her?”
“Son,” my father begins, his eyes flicking briefly to my lawyer before colliding with mine, “you can’t contact her again.”
Frowning, I stare at him.
He continues, “Not until after the trial. We can’t give the press any more material to froth over. The most damning evidence against you is your obsession with Jimmy Hill’s daughter. You can’t be seen contacting her.”
His words go in one ear and out the other. He says them, but they don’t register. I refuse to think I won’t be able to talk to her again.
“She is waiting for me to contact her,” I reply more firmly.
“That’s not going to happen.” My father crosses his arms. “You need to forget about her.” He digs his finger into Mr. Morton’s folder on the desk. The folder with copies of the photographs I took. “This stops today. Keira is no one to you.”
I shoot up from my seat so fast, the chair topples over. I’m pacing like a caged tiger, dragging my fingers through my greasy hair. I need a shower, a hard fuck, and Keira’s screams in my ears. Only then will I feel somewhat in control again.
I remember the first time I noticed her darkness.
How it called to me.
And now my father says I have to remove my new oxygen source? Fuck him. Fuck them all. I’m going to get out of here and hunt her down and make her hurt, just how she likes it.
