Present Day…

One minute, we were staring at each other and the next minute, I was launching myself through the water. He grabbed the hair at the nape of my neck as my arms snaked around his shoulders. I opened my mouth, eager to feel those beautiful lips and his tongue dancing against mine. His fingers tightened in my hair. I hissed at the forcefulness of his possessive grip. Before my mouth found his, he yanked my head back, forcing my gaze upward. His eyes were dark, glittering, and threatening.

“I’m not the same guy, Stella. You don’t know who you’re messing with. You don’t know who I am now.”

“I don’t care.” I tried to break away from his hold to claim his taunting lips, but he held fast to my hair.

“You should. The boy—the one you knew—he died in that prison cell, and he’s never coming back.”

My heart ached with a pain greater than anything I’d ever felt before. “You blame me. I get it. I blame myself. It’s okay if you hate me. I hate me too.”

“I’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe.” He released my hair, but he didn’t deny hating me. With gentle hands, he pried my arms from his neck and put distance between us. The little girl inside me folded on herself. Everyone rejected me eventually. I could take it from anyone but him.

The water, which had been refreshing in the beginning, sucked at my legs as I sloshed toward the bank. Owen grabbed my bicep to stop my retreat. His touch seared my skin. Without looking back, I said, “If you cared so damn much, then why did you send me away when I came to see you at the prison?” I broke loose and kept wading. Part of me wanted to hear his answer, but the cowardly part feared what he might say. I’d thought I was over his rejection, but being with him had reopened the wound.

“I had to. If they thought we were together in any way, they might have come after you, and I couldn’t have allowed it.”

“You don’t know that.” With short, angry jerks, I stabbed my legs into my shorts and yanked the tank top over my head.

“My confession closed the door on the investigation. I took a plea deal for a reduced charge of voluntary manslaughter instead of murder. They were satisfied to have a Henry in custody.” The water hissed and splashed as his footsteps followed me.

I retreated a few paces toward the house then turned back to him. The hurt and anger I’d been repressing for the past eighteen years exploded. “It was a stupid thing to do. Stupid.”

“Don’t talk to me about stupid. I did what I had to do, and because of me, you’ve got a beautiful life.” His words brought me to a complete standstill. My mouth dropped open. I placed a hand on my chest, feeling like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the air. He stepped into his boxers and pulled them up to his hips before capturing my gaze. “You were always destined for greater things, and I knew that.” His voice dropped, becoming tender, underscored by sadness. “Look at you, Stell. You came from nothing, and now you’re a great photographer. You’ve circled the globe.” He took a step forward to sweep a tendril of hair from my temple. “I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

The anger melted from my body. I stared at him, flexing my fingers, warring between the desire to punch him or kiss him. After a beat, I growled, releasing my frustration, and shoved his chest. “You broke my heart.”

“Then I guess we’re even,” he said.

I ran back to the house, heedless of the sharp gravel and my bare feet. The screen door banged shut behind me. I thundered up the stairs and into my bedroom. Owen didn’t follow, but I knew he was close by. I could feel him in my bones, in my heart, and in my soul. Like it or not, we were bound to each other forever, bound by our secrets and the death of his brother.

We didn’t speak to each other at all the next day. When Dad and the boys arrived, I set up a table on the back porch and served coffee and donuts to the crew. Owen stayed by the garage, staring at me with dark, pensive eyes. His brooding gaze made me want to scream. The tension between us escalated until I couldn’t do anything but fret about his confessions. For distraction, I threw my anger and frustration into cleaning.

In my heart of hearts, I knew Owen hadn’t killed Chris, and that meant the killer was out there somewhere. While I worked, I ran through the events leading up to the murder. No matter how hard I tried to remember, the details remained fuzzy. The pain of those days stayed with me, however. The ache of Marianne’s death, Stan’s illness, leaving Owen without the chance to say goodbye—all those things tumbled around in my head, the facts distorted and confused by emotions and time.

Only one other person could help reconcile the situation. I called up Lanie’s number in my phone. She answered on the fourth ring, sounding out of breath and irritated. “Hey, Sis, can I call you right back?”

“No.” After eighteen years of misery, I didn’t want to wait another second.

“Hang on.” She put me on hold before I could draw breath to continue.

With a sigh, I took a seat on the third stair. Humidity coated the walls and my skin. I dragged a clean rag over my face. A fly buzzed in lazy circles around the room before taking refuge on the ceiling, out of my reach. After five minutes passed, I hung up. Lanie called back immediately.

“Sorry,” she said without greeting. “I had the landlord on the other line. He’s hounding me for rent. You never sent that check.”

Lanie’s financial situation had been the last thing on my mind over the past week. I rolled my eyes. She wasn’t going to change unless I forced her to take responsibility for her life. “Seriously, Lanie. You need to figure out a way to handle this on your own. I can’t keep cleaning up your messes.” Her anger transferred through the phone in the form of silence. Even though my chest ached for her situation, I held my ground. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Obviously, not anything,” she huffed.

I ignored the jab and tried to soften my tone. “If the kids need clothes or school supplies, I’m happy to buy them. Do you need food? I’ll send you a gift card for the grocery store.”

“They’re fine. I’ll manage.” Her clipped tone signaled the end of the topic. “What’s up with Owen? Did you get rid of him?”

Owen. The sound of his name awakened butterflies in my stomach and a throb in my center. I pressed my thighs together. “That’s why I’m calling. He’s outside, working on the back porch.”

“Seriously! What are you thinking?” The pitch of her voice climbed higher.

“Look, we talked about Chris last night. He didn’t do it.”

“Jesus, Stella. Of course, he’s going to say he didn’t do it. You’re so gullible.”

During my lifetime, I’d been called a lot of things but never gullible. I snorted while fighting back anger at her insult. “Says the girl who believed her first baby-daddy worked for the CIA.”

“Okay, well, I’ve made some mistakes. I’m not going to deny it.” I heard her fingernails tapping on the table, one of her most irritating habits. “Does he know who did it?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t get that far in the conversation.” I twisted a loose strand of hair around my finger. “Do you remember anything about that night? Anything at all?” Over the years, I’d avoided the topic to protect her, but I needed answers now, answers that only she could provide.

“Not really. You know I don’t like talking about it.”

“Come on, Lanie. Think. This is important.” I pressed further. “Did you see Chris that day?” More silence. “You and I had a fight that day. You had borrowed my favorite shirt and didn’t give it back. And you had a bruise on your chin, one that Chris had given you.”

“I don’t remember,” she said, obstinately.

“You said it was an accident. That you tripped and fell on the back steps. Is that true?” The only answer was her uneven breathing. “Lanie, did you see him that night?”

“Yes.” My mouth dropped open. She sighed, sounding tearful. “As soon as you left for your date with Owen, I waited for Stan and Marianne to go to bed, then I went to meet him.”

My heart lurched. I bit my lower lip and grimaced. Why hadn’t she said anything before now? “But you didn’t tell the police.”

“No. I didn’t want to get in trouble for sneaking out, and you were already furious with me. I didn’t say anything because nothing happened. We met. We argued. I went home. That’s all there is to it.” The stubborn edge returned to her voice. “Look, I need to go. I’ll call you if I remember anything important, okay?”

The sound of the dial tone buzzed in my ears. I stared at the phone while my empty stomach rolled. Despite our differences, Lanie and I were close. She’d never been a good liar, and I could always tell when she had something to hide. Her refusal to talk underscored my belief that she knew more than she’d disclosed. If I wanted to get the truth, I’d have to coax it from her.