Adjusting the knife under the hoodie to go to the back of my pants, I pull up the front my shirt, revealing the scars I’ve hidden for too long.
Her eyes drop to my stomach, and she takes another step back.
“I’m that little girl.”
When she hits the ground, I catch her head just in time. Jake was right. I should have put down pillows.
“Well, shit,” I say to the woman who has fainted.
I can practically hear Jake saying, “I told you so,” in my head.
Chapter 3
Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do.
—Voltaire
LOGAN
“Thanks for meeting with us, Mr. Denver,” I say to the man who hands us both a cup of coffee.
“I’m here to help in any way I can.” He studies us like he expects us to be on the wrong side of the law, as though he’s waiting for us to trick him.
It makes me hate Johnson even more.
“We’re hoping you can shed some light on what happened to Robert Evans.”
He grimaces. “It should all be on record. I’m sure the FBI has access to all that.”
“All murder trials are usually taped, but this one wasn’t.”
“It was,” he argues. He stands and goes to his bookcase, and he pulls out a book. When he opens the book and grabs a DVD, Donny raises his eyebrows at me.
Christopher Denver brings us the DVD, and he hands it to me.
“You can keep that. I have others.”
“The file stated it wasn’t filmed.”
/> “It was,” he states simply.
I blow out a long breath. “I realize the FBI are probably not on your list of people to trust, but I can assure you that the two of us are looking for real answers.”
“Because of the Scarlet Slayer,” he says simply.
I cock my head, studying him. He has alibies, so he can’t be our guy.
“That’s part of what led us there, yes. But also because we feel as though the case might have been mishandled.”
He snorts derisively, and I arch an eyebrow at him.
“Sorry. I’m just not used to such understatements being made with true sincerity.”
Donny leans back, and I sip my coffee, looking around the house. His walls are mostly bare, other than several achievements from his son and from him.
“We spoke with Jacob as well. He wouldn’t give us any information,” I say, watching his face.
He remains impassive, years of courtroom training teaching him to school his features.