Page 84 of A Secret to Die For

Hold on a second… “You think her family would be capable of hiring that psycho? To rape and kill her?”

“We have to consider every possibility. What did Sherlock Holmes say? That once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

“It was Arthur Conan Doyle, actually. But I see your point.” And if we were going to philosophise, then another quote sprang to mind, this time from Arthur Schopenhauer: All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

I’d done the ridiculing, not openly, but in my own mind. And we’d sure had the violence tonight. I was heading toward stage three, but I wasn’t certain I wanted to arrive at the destination.

“I used to think the Baldwins were irritating yet harmless,” Colt said. “But one of them is in jail for murder and another for attempted murder, so I’m open to the idea that they could do something as fucked up as trying to have Sara killed. But the pieces don’t fit. Which leaves us with the possibility that someone fixated on Sara. I don’t think that happened here because the dead guy isn’t familiar, but I hear she’s been spending time in Roseburg lately. Did you see anyone following her? Get the prickly feeling that something was wrong?”

“We barely went out. Saralisa isn’t a party girl, and I don’t enjoy my every move being posted on the internet.”

But the pieces… Those jagged, illogical, unconscionable pieces…

“The perp’s prints aren’t in AFIS. Either he’s a first-timer, or he’s been too smart to get caught.”

Or he had connections.

“I need to make a call.”

“We haven’t finished here.”

“Are you going to arrest me?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Colt shook his head.

I found an unoccupied music room and dialled my brother. I had to know. I had to know whether the horror story I was writing in my head was fact or fiction. Two minutes later, my worst fears had been confirmed, and predictably, Trey didn’t see what the big deal was.

“Lighten up. Elina probably forgot already. Hey, is it true that you emptied a clip at a guy with a machete?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Facebook. Angela’s hyperventilating. Mom made her breathe into a paper bag.”

“I used reasonable force to stop a man from killing me.”

“But was it, like, a whole clip?”

“It’s called a magazine, you fuckwit.”

I hung up and sank onto the piano stool, trying to collect my thoughts. This could all be my fault. I’d almost lost the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, my soulmate, and it was my fault for brushing away her concerns. For hearing but not listening. For thinking I knew best when she’d lived this nightmare for sixteen years.

Grabbing Saralisa and moving to a desert island was tempting, but I had to face the music. In the Marines, I’d parachuted into hostile territory with less trepidation than this, my heart hammering and adrenaline coursing through my veins. Colt and Luca were waiting expectantly when I returned.

“I have…” The lump in my throat was almost too big to swallow, and it was fear. Fear that I’d fucked up. Fear for the woman I loved. Fear that I was about to tear two families apart. “I have a theory.”

“Let’s hear it,” Luca said, arms folded.

The lawyer was still standing to the side, drinking in the conversation. I didn’t want him to hear this part.

“Burford, please leave us.”

“But your father said—”

“I don’t care what my father said. This is my business, not his.”

“He won’t be happy.”

“I’ve spent my whole damn life trying to make my father happy. Just leave me alone. Go and give Angela a Xanax or something.”

---