Isabella watched out the window in horror. She’d always known Lucas was tough. The bad boy type, some people called him. But Abigail had told her over and over, especially when they first started dating, that he wasn’t like that. He wasn’t violent. She promised he wasn’t dangerous.

But what Isabella had just seen made everything Abigail told her a lie. He’d hit Matthew hard enough to make him bleed. And not just a little blood. His shirt was covered and there was a small puddle on the driveway. She could see the bright red staining the tan cement from the kitchen. He had stopped moving, then people came to take him. At first, she thought he’d killed him, the way he kept kicking him. But then she saw Matthew stir a little as they carried him to the car.

Part of her was grateful. Lucas had done this because of her. For her. Matthew had mistreated her, and Lucas stepped in and put an end to it. He’d protected her. And she had seen Matthew hit him first. It wasn’t like Lucas made the first move against a man too drunk to defend himself. Matthew had hit him and Lucas defended himself and her. But maybe a little too well.

He could have dropped Matthew with one punch and left it at that. But even when he was down, Lucas kept hitting him, then started kicking him. It seemed wrong to her. It seemed full of anger and hatred. It seemed far too violent.

It scared her to see Lucas like that. And she knew he had a gun as well. Luckily, he hadn’t even reached for it. But what if Matthew hadn’t been drunk? What if he’d stood and fought back? Would Lucas have shot him? How much did it take to make him so angry that he’d beat someone even while they were down?

Her mind wandered to other things. Matthew had a little temper. It was why he’d shown up here at all and said what he said and hit Lucas. She’d seen evidence of it once when they fought. He got so mad, he threw a book across the room. She hadn’t liked his actions at the time, and that might have been what took any remaining feelings she had for him. That kind of violent outburst scared her. But he’d never done anything like that again, and he’d never turned his violence toward her.

She had wondered about Matthew, and now she was forced to wonder it about Lucas, too. It was one thing to defend the people you loved and fight for them. But how far would those same people have to go before the violence was turned on them? Wasn’t that what attracted women to those bad boy types? The possibility of danger?

What if Lucas lost his temper with Jackson? She’d never seen him get too mad at his son, but he was only six. What happened when he was a teenager, when he was a man, and angered his father? And even if he never laid a hand on Jackson, how would this affect the boy if something happened and he saw his father act so violently?

They could be anywhere. Out shopping, out at the zoo like Jackson was today, or waking down the street. Someone might attack them and Lucas would defend them. But then Jackson would see this side of his father. It might affect him negatively. He could grow up to be just as violent and angry. Without having a mother to soften him, what would something like that do to Jackson?

Then she thought of his mother. Her sister, who had died tragically in an accident at home. An accident where she’d fallen. Tripped down the stairs. It was common enough. And Lucas had been so visibly broken up that no one questioned it. The police hadn’t even. But now that she thought about it, wasn’t falling down the stairs one of those things people said to cover abuse? To cover murder?

What if they’d been fighting and she’d said something that made Lucas mad? What if he’d reacted without thinking and pushed her and she’d just happened to be too close to the stairs and went tumbling down? She’d landed too hard and had broken her neck. That was the official report. But what if she landed so hard because she’d been pushed on purpose? What if Lucas’s emotional display was just good acting? Or his show of guilt for killing her?

A coldness swept through Isabella. She didn’t want to think these things about him. She loved him. He was her sister’s husband, the father of her nephew, the man she wanted. She’d known him for so long and had loved him for just as long. Was that why this was so upsetting to her? That she had known and loved him so long, but had no idea he was capable of this? What else was he capable of that she didn’t know?

And now she had to go back to his house with him, to live there with him and Jackson. She shouldn’t be afraid. She shouldn’t have to worry about her safety or Jackson’s, but she did. At least one thing good would come of it. She could be there to witness more closely how he treated Jackson, if he ever reacted badly to the boy. She could protect her nephew. She just hoped she never had to.

She used the situation with Matthew, and all the unpacking she had to do as an excuse. When Lucas wondered why she was quiet and seemed upset, she said she couldn’t stop thinking of what Matthew said. She stayed in her room alone, claiming she had to unpack.

She came down for dinner and happily spent a few hours with Jackson as he got ready for bed. Nothing seemed different about Lucas on the surface. But underneath, in her heart, everything had changed. She felt like she didn’t know him at all. She felt like she loved a stranger.

“Where did they take Matthew?” she asked him later, as they left Jackson’s room after putting him to bed.

“Just to a hotel to sleep it off. They’ll make sure he’s okay and that he doesn’t bother you again.”

She nodded. “Was he hurt badly?”

“No. Noses bleed a lot, but I didn’t hit him too hard. I’m sure he’ll be feeling crappy, but that was the point. I needed to make it clear that he was not to contact you under any conditions. I don’t want you to be afraid of him.”

She pressed her lips together. “No. I’m okay. I’m just really tired. Thanks for all your help.”

“Anytime.” He smiled at her.

She tried to force a smile, but turned and hurried away. When she got to her room, she changed, then lay down in bed, wide awake. She kept seeing Lucas punch Matthew over and over, seeing the blood and his limp body. She closed her eyes, but saw her sister falling and Lucas at the top of the stairs, hands out. She didn’t sleep much that night.

When she woke, she knew she had to do something. She couldn’t just go on wondering about Lucas, wondering about her sister’s death. She had to do some research and try to get answers.

It was Monday, and usually, Isabella came to watch Jackson while Lucas went to work. It was just like any other day, she told herself. After she and Jackson had eaten breakfast, she got him dressed and drove to the library. She got him settled in the children’s section, playing with the puppets and other toys, then went to one of the computers and started searching.

She began at a web site for violent offenders and entered in Lucas’s information. This site was supposed to tell her if he had ever committed a violent crime. Nothing came up. Though, he’d just done something violent to Matthew and no one knew about it, so that wasn’t enough by itself. It was a good sign, but it was only proof that he hadn’t gone so far as to be charged or arrested for violence.

She did some more searching on him, photos and articles, to see if anything was revealed that wasn’t in the criminal database, but she found nothing. Next was her sister. She went back over the articles in the paper at the time of Abigail’s death. But what she really needed wasn’t there. She needed to see a photo. To determine, if she could, the angle that she’d been pushed from, and to see if she had other bruises on her body.

She knew on some level that a coroner would have found those things. But what she didn’t know was that if there had been proof that he’d killed her, if Lucas could have had it covered up by paying someone off. Lucas was powerful with his name and money. People did what he wanted. It seemed very possible that if something came up, it would have been hidden.

Isabella thought that maybe she could contact the coroner herself. As Abigail’s sister, that had to get her the rights to some information, didn’t it? She opened her email and went back several years. She had kept every bit of correspondence from that time. It was in a folder in her inbox that she never looked in. But now she opened it and found the coroner’s information.

She sent an email back from the latest correspondence she had.

“Hello Mr. Lane. I’m the sister of Abigail Reid, whose case you had five years ago. I’m looking for photos of her body and any reports you can give me on her death.”

She thought she would need a good reason. Something that wouldn’t raise curiosity. Something that would make him want to cooperate. It took several minutes and many bad ideas before the lightbulb went off.

She added, “There is a film company who wants to do a documentary on Lucas Reid, and they’re interesting in some visuals on her case. Any help you can provide will be greatly appreciated. They may also want to interview you, if you would be agreeable to that.”

She sent the email. Hopefully, it would appeal to him as a possibility for some glimpse of fame. Most people went for that sort of thing. For the chance to be seen. For the hope that money would follow.

It took three days for Mr. Lane to respond. She read the email standing in Lucas’s kitchen while Jackson ate apple slices for his afternoon snack.

“Hello, Miss Jenson. I remember this case well. I’d be happy to be of any assistance to you or the filmmakers. I’ve attached her files, including photos. If you need a higher resolution print out, I have those available as well. Best of luck. I look forward to hearing from you again.”

So, it had worked. She made herself wait until she was alone. She wasn’t about to look at images of her dead sister while just standing here on a Thursday afternoon. That night, after Jackson was in bed and she’d told Lucas she couldn’t watch a movie with him because she was too tired, she went to her room and locked the door.

She brought up the email on her laptop so that she could see everything better. She started with the report. Everything seemed to be normal there. It was as she remembered. No evidence of foul play. Cause of death listed as accidental. No charges filed. No further investigation needed. Once she read the report, there was one thing left to do.

She took a few deep breaths, steading herself for what she was about to see. But nothing could have prepared her. She looked at her sister, still and waxy looking. Her eyes closed, her skin blotchy. She was still beautiful, even in death.

Isabella looked at every photo he had sent. There were places of bruising, but they matched the report that said she’d fallen and hit her knee, then her hip before hitting her head. Those were the only bruises she saw. A photo that showed the stairs—in Lucas’s first house when he’d just started making money—and Abigail’s body at the bottom. But she couldn’t tell if the body was in an unnatural position or not.

She closed the laptop and sobbed. It was horrible enough to lose her sister, then to think Lucas might have killed her. But to see it. The still body of the person she’d grown up with, who she’d shared so much with. This was why they didn’t give the family these photos. It was too upsetting. She’d never be able to get those images out of her mind. And she still didn’t know if Lucas was responsible in some way or not. Most of all, she had no idea what to do about any of it.