“I’m guessin’ this is where you come in…”
“Sara thought it was a matter of money. Convincing the right people that Ethan Harrison needed to stay in jail. But, of course, bribery is against the law. You know that well, Detective.”
Alex held his gaze. “Sometimes, it’s not about money. It’s about power. And we both know you have too damn much of that.”
***
“People believed him when Ethan said I told him to kill my parents. I could see it…people who’d known me for my entire life were suddenly doubting me. Strangers called me a whore. Men on the street shouted that I should die. So…I thought maybe I should.” Claire glanced down at her wrist. Skye saw the faint, white line there. “I’d almost bled out by the time Sara found me.”
I’m so glad Claire didn’t see Sara covered in all of that blood.
“I got better,” Claire said with grim pride. Then she whispered, “But the nightmares never stopped.”
They were about two feet apart. Claire was a few inches taller than Skye. A little younger. But, on the inside, Skye felt as if they were the same.
“I have nightmares, too.” Skye said. “Sometimes, they’re memories. Other times, they twist. They become something else.”
“Yes.”
“But when I wake up each day, those nightmares fade away.” That was the way it had been when her parents died, and that was the way it happened for her now. “Because nightmares can’t hurt us. We’re alive. We’re getting through this world, one step at a time, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or what anyone else calls us.” Skye willed Claire to believe what she was saying. “All that matters is that we know…we’re survivors.”
Claire rubbed at her eyes, obviously trying to stop the tears. “He almost got out a few years back. On some kind of-of technicality.” Her chin lifted. “But Sara fixed that for me. She had connections, see. She used them. They sent him back. She told me that Ethan would never hurt me again.”
“She was protecting you. Sara sounds like one incredible sister.”
“She was. I just-I wish I could’ve protected her.”
***
“What the hell is your deal, Weston?” Alex demanded. He jabbed his index finger into Trace’s chest. “You know I want to hate you.”
“Yeah,” Trace replied, “I got that clue.”
“You’re twisted. I can feel it in you. I know because—”
“Because when you look at me, you see the same darkness that stares back at you from the mirror each day?”
Alex clamped his lips together and yanked his hand back. He stomped down the hallway.
“Dammit to hell.” Alex’s growl.
Trace lifted a brow that the detective couldn’t see.
“Fine,” Alex snapped. “You can see the other two bodies, but you so much as touch them, and I’ll have you in a cage.” He threw a glare over his shoulder. “Understand me?”
“You’re welcome,” Trace told him.
More red heated Alex’s cheeks.
“And that ‘you’re welcome’—it was actually for me not going straight to the DA and demanding that your ass get yanked to traffic duty after that little stunt you pulled with the search warrant.” As if Trace had forgotten about that incident. He took his time heading down the hall. “You were right when you said I had plenty of power. Remember that the next time you feel the urge to get…overzealous with me.”
“The door…” Alex huffed out the words, “is to the damn left.”
Trace inclined his head. Then he opened the door. Inside, the temperature was a good five degrees cooler, and the room smelled of bleach.
And death.
A tall, curvy redhead appeared. She pushed her glasses higher on her nose and frowned at Trace. “Can I help you—”
“Dr. Dulane,” Alex said as he followed Trace inside, “we need to see the three stabbing victims.”
Dr. Dulane shook her head. “But I was just finishing some work on the female—”
“Sara,” Trace forced the name out. “Her name is Sara Kramer.”
Sympathy flashed over Dr. Dulane’s face. “Are you family?”
“Close,” Trace said.