Page 27 of All the Little Truths

“Makes no sense,” Jack agreed.

“Unless,” she tossed out, “someone put it there when it was time for the warehouse work to begin. Maybe that someone wanted this evidence to be found.”

“You mean an enemy of our client? Otherwise I’m not seeing the logic in that scenario. Where you going with this, kid?”

“Not an enemy, and you’re right, there is no logic.Unless,” she countered, “the goal was to prove something to the police usingyou.” And me, she didn’t add.

The silence on the other end of the line told her he was weighing the possibility.

Finley pulled into her driveway. “Is there something you need to tell me, Jack?”

“I don’t think this is about me,” he argued. “Look, I’m home, so I’ll catch you in the morning. Night.”

“Night.”

Finley shut off the engine and dropped her head against the seat. Apparently, her father wasn’t the only one hiding something. Made her feel less guilty about not mentioning her potential new follower to Jack. But still, how were they supposed to move forward with this case if no one wanted to be completely truthful?

Damn it, Jack. What the hell did you do?

O’Sullivan Residence

Shelby Avenue, Nashville, 11:30 p.m.

Finley couldn’t sleep.

Matt had fallen asleep a minute or so after closing his eyes. He always did.

She did not.Ever.

Tonight, she lay in bed facing him. He was on his back, his left arm thrown over his head, resting on the pillow. She studied his profile. He had the perfect profile. Classic cheekbone structure. Strong jaw. Perfect aquiline nose. She smiled, barely resisted the urge to reach out and trace those handsome features. Gorgeous blond hair and amazing blue eyes. Derrick’s face had been more rugged but equally handsome. Her heart squeezed at the memory of him.

Sometimes, when she thought about it, lying in bed with Matt felt strange, considering this was the bed she had shared with Derrick and the fact that she loved them both.

Matt, she had loved her whole life. He was like part of her. Derrick was the unexpected. The total opposite of Matt. She had fallen in love with Derrick over the course of a few weeks. The journey had been fast and reckless. Exciting and forbidden. Fiercely hot and out of control.

Matt, on the other hand, was reliable and charming. Their journey had started when they were toddlers. They’d been best friends for as long as she could remember. They’d always had each other’s backs. Askids they had promised each other that if they didn’t find anyone else, they would get married and have a kid just to make their parents happy.

How she loved this man. She stared at him. Tamped down the need to wake him and tell him about the man in the car who had been watching her. But she didn’t see the point. Right after that she’d gotten the call from the hospital about Helen Roberts. By the time she’d gotten home, taken care of the dog, and watered the plants, she’d convinced herself that she had likely imagined the trouble.

The man may have been some guy trying to flirt with her.

Now there was a stretch. But it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.

Maybe he’d been looking at someone else. She hadn’t taken the time to glance around to see. Houser’s words about Dempsey had been echoing in the back of her brain. So she’d just walked straight to where she’d parked, climbed into her Subaru and gotten the hell out of there.

But now, lying here in the dark in the same house where three bastards hired by Carson Dempsey had invaded and murdered her husband and left her damaged and broken, she had second thoughts.

She could not allow Matt to be hurt again. He’d been run off the road, crashed his car and suffered serious injuries the last time one of Dempsey’s thugs went after him. Houser had said Dempsey had reached out to adarksource—about her. If he was up to something, she had to make sure no one she cared about was in the line of fire again.

She nestled closer to Matt, hugged his arm and pressed her face against his bare chest. She had only recently started rebuilding her personal life. She would not allow anyone to touch it. Not again.

This time she wasn’t waiting around for Dempsey’s thug to make a move. If he came around again, she would move first.

8

After the Murder

Thirteen Years Ago

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