Page 77 of What We May Be

“But it’s not just about Craig and Teller, is it? Abel mentioned the roses.”

Sean withdrew his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and set it on the table in front of Trevor.

One look at the picture—Craig’s body on a stretcher next to the pool of roses—and Trevor shot out a hand to flip the phone over. “Fuck, if I never have to see that again, it’d be too soon.” He propped both elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands, then plowed them through his hair when all he could see behind his closed eyelids was that same horrific sight.

Sean’s hands on his thigh and back were the only things grounding him in the here and now, keeping him from falling into the abyss of nightmares. “How do we stop this?” He angled his face toward Sean and bit back his gasp at seeing the haunted look in Sean’s eyes. He’d been hiding it before, but it was clear now he was as terrified as Trevor, as Charlie also had to be. Trevor lowered an arm and wrapped a hand around the one still resting on his thigh. “Get to the how I can help part now, please.”

“We need you to review Charlie’s lists and make similar lists of your own.”

“Lists of what?”

Sean lifted one finger. “People who knew Craig Rowan tried to rape her at that party your senior year of high school.” Another. “People involved in the alumni party incident last year.” And a third. “Anyone who knows the truth about Alice’s death.”

“Then do what? Cross-check them?”

Sean nodded.

“I can, yeah, but don’t you want Diego or Jaylen or Abel to do that? I play at being police, but they’re real police.”

Sean chuckled. “You finally watched The Wire with her?”

“She wore me down.” Trevor couldn’t help but smile, remembering that epic marathon-watching session. It was a three-day holiday weekend, a rare one that Charlie got off, and neither of them had left the beach house for days. Trevor’s pleasant memory was wiped away, though, by Sean’s next words.

“I don’t think this case is just about the Henbys.” He flipped his hand over under Trevor’s and laced their fingers. “It’s about you too. You might even be at the center of it.”

Trevor flinched, hard. “How do you figure?”

“Jefferson Marshall tried to railroad your tenure. Julian Hirsch stole your wife. Craig Rowan almost cost you your baseball scholarship.”

Trevor hung his head. “Christ, I never asked for this.”

“Then help me stop it.” Sean squeezed his hand, then released it and retrieved his phone. “Who did you talk to about that party senior year?” he asked as he opened the notepad app.

“Cal, obviously. Annie, Rachel, who I was dating at the time, and later on, Tracy. But there were a lot of people at that party, Sean.”

“Beth Martin, maybe?”

He shook his head. “She didn’t grow up here. Besides, Beth was in custody.”

“Evidence indicates she’s still involved somehow.” He tapped at his phone again and brought up another picture. A sharps bag in a trash can. “Those were at Beth’s place.” He swiped across the screen to a picture of empty vials. “It’s an anesthetic only available locally at HU Med.”

Trevor put together where Sean was going. “Tracy.”

“Did she know about Alice’s death?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Charlie and I didn’t know Cal was responsible or about the cover up until after his and Mitch’s funeral, and by then, Tracy was remarried to Julian. We hadn’t spoken in months.” Trevor closed his eyes and that nightmare image flashed again, along with a horrifying realization. “But she knew about the roses. Every Sunday, I used to bring Charlie red roses to take to the cemetery after dinner. But why, Sean? Why would Tracy kill for me when she hates me?”

“Revenge, to frame you, to get your attention,” Sean rattled off. “It’s a thin line between love and hate, even thinner when you throw in an unhealthy dose of obsession. She said it herself. She was tired of playing second best to Charlie. She’s demanding your attention.”

Sean’s phone vibrated on the table, an incoming text from Charlie flashing onscreen. “What’s it say?” Trevor asked.

“They’re at the cemetery. And she attached her lists.”

His face fell, and Trevor could guess at what he read. “Tracy on there?”

He nodded, brow furrowing. “When we questioned her, I didn’t think she had anything to do with it.”

“Maybe she’s a better actress than we thought.”

He didn’t miss the shudder Sean tried to hide as he stood, opened the door, and began issuing orders. “Call the hospital and see if Tracy was on shift last night,” he said to Jaylen. Then to Abel, who’d stepped out of his office, “Can we get an extra squad car out to the cemetery? Charlie and Marsh may need to bring Tracy in.”

“Ah, fuck,” the chief cursed. “She a suspect again?”

“Maybe,” Sean said. “Pending what Jaylen finds out from the hospital.”

Abel started across the bullpen floor toward the dispatch officer, and Sean turned back into the conference room. Trevor waited until he closed the door to voice the fear that had been steadily crawling up his throat. “Sean, if this is because of me…” He gulped, swallowing the lump in his throat, ignoring the goose bumps that rose on his arms. “How am I supposed to live with myself? After what it’s done to Charlie, to our family, to the victims…” He tracked Sean as he rounded the table and came to stand beside him. “We have to stop this,” he pleaded. “I don’t want anyone else to die because of me.”

Sean tugged him out of the chair and into his arms. “We’ll figure this out, Trev.”

He wound his arms around Sean’s waist and burrowed closer, hiding from the potentially catastrophic truth. “But at what cost?”

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