“No?”
“No.”
He pauses, watching me with no change in his expression. “There’s this conundrum nature specialists face in the wild. Some animals return to the trap because they know they’ll find food, so they keep getting themselves live-trapped over and over and…” He steps closer. “Over.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, Glyndon. You tell me. After all, you’re the one who followed me in my own house.”
The crazy idea I’ve been entertaining since this afternoon slowly manifests and I swallow. “How about a trade?”
“What type of trade?”
“You…dislike Killian—or more like his guts and constant need to make your life hell. I can help you with keeping him off your case.”
He raises a brow. “And how do you intend to do that?”
“By keeping him occupied.”
He bursts out laughing, the sound echoing around us like a haunted chant. “Either you’re being funny or you have no fucking clue who you’re dealing with.”
“I actually do. I’ve been constantly tormented by him since the first time we met.”
Gareth’s expression hardens. “And you think that means something in the great scheme of things? How long have you known him? A week? A month? That has no value or credibility.”
“He’s obsessed with me or something about me, and as long as he has that fixation, then I have power over him.” I push up my chest. “You can discredit me all day, but you and I both know that Killian isn’t the type who gives up on things halfway in.”
A slight narrow of his eyes is the only change in Gareth’s demeanor, but I know I’ve chinked his armor when he asks, “And what do you want in return?”
“I’ll get straight to the point.”
“By all means.”
“I’m investigating my friend’s death, and I was told that he was part of the Heathens’ first initiation for this year. You’re one of the leaders and surely have access to records, camera footage, and stuff like that?”
“What if I do?”
“If you provide me with those, I’ll be your ally against Killian.”
“How do I know you won’t turn against me? In fact, how do I know this isn’t another one of Killer’s sick games?”
“I would never use my friend’s life as a game.” I fumble for my phone and scroll to one of the last pictures I have with Devlin. A selfie in the car. I’m smiling. He’s not. Then I show it to Gareth. “Surely you remember him.”
He pauses, lips thinning in a line. “Devlin.”
“Yes.” I breathe. “He died after the initiation.”
“Didn’t the police rule it as a suicide?”
“Yes, but…”
“You don’t believe it.”
I slowly shake my head. “Like you, I don’t believe in the existence of too many coincidences.”
“Fine.”
“Really?”