Page 66 of The Sleeping Girls

Digger walked to the front window and looked out, although he kept one eye on Heath as if he thought he might pull a gun and shoot him. “I didn’t kill that girl or take the other one.”

Heath jerked his half brother by the shirt. “Listen to me, where is Ruby Pruitt?”

“I don’t know,” Digger said. “I told you I didn’t take her.”

“Don’t lie to me. If she’s still alive and you cooperate, it could work in your favor. Just turn yourself in.”

Digger made a sarcastic sound. “Yeah, right. So I can spend the rest of my life in a cell for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“If you’re innocent, we’ll find proof,” Heath said.

“I am innocent,” Digger said through clenched teeth. “But considering my record, you really think the cops will look anywhere beyond me? That female cop already put the word out to look for me.”

Unfortunately, Digger was right. “If anyone will look for the truth, it’s Detective Reeves.”

“Then why did she put that APB out on me?” Digger asked.

“Because the murdered girl was posed like she was sleeping, with a teddy bear in her arms. Just like Anna Marie.”

Digger fisted his hands. “I know but I didn’t kill her,” he insisted.

“He laid her on a bed of white sheets with a white teddy bear,” Heath said.

Digger’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

“How do you explain that?” Heath asked.

“Someone has to be framing me.”

“How’s that? When Anna Marie died, the cops didn’t release photos of the crime scene to the public.” Heath continued. “The only ones who knew how she was found were our family, the attorneys, jury and judge.”

Digger shook his head in denial. “I don’t know, man. I’m not the cop. You are.”

Heath paused for a second, considering the possibility. “Okay, so who would want to frame you?”

Digger ran his fingers over his shaved head, drawing Heath’s attention to the scars on his hands and arm. “Hell, I made some enemies in prison. Maybe one of them is retaliating against me.”

“Give me some names,” he said. “And I’ll check them out.”

“You believe me?” Digger asked, his voice cracking.

Heath’s gaze met Digger’s, a silent debate warring in his head. He didn’t even know Digger now. Didn’t know what he was capable of. Could he trust him?

“I said I’d look into it.” He handed Digger a notepad and Digger scribbled a couple of names on it.

Heath accepted it, his gaze taking in the tattoo on Digger’s neck. A gang tattoo. Heath knew what happened in prison. Violence led to more violence. Turned men into monsters. If you didn’t fight back you’d die.

He glanced at the names, then back at Digger. His phone buzzed, and he walked over to the bar to pick it up. Hopefully it was the O’Connor woman.

No, it was Ellie.

The sound of the sliding glass doors opening made him jerk his head around. He had to keep Digger here.

But the wind barreled through the open door and Digger was gone.

SEVENTY-TWO

GEORGIAN MANOR

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