A triptych of starbursts and supernovas, of glorious color and movement so that I felt a strange, dizzy joy just looking at it.
The brushwork, the style, were as familiar to me as my own heartbeat by now.
“You were right, Jack. I’ve been on special assignment as well,” Julian said softly.
I moved before I could think it through, the same foolish wrath coming over me that had hit me in my apartment, when Julian had stood there looking at Miller over my shoulder.
I threw myself at him again.
This was it; I was going to kill him, and then I was going to rip his spine out with my bare hands to make fucking sure.
But with an audiblebang, I met the solid wall of Sandro Castellani instead.
CHAPTER49
MILLER
As soon asJack left the house at my insistence, I started thinking I’d made a big mistake.
Being in this house meant I couldn’t escape my father’s influence. Every corner of the place was a reminder of my failures, my mistakes, my second-bestness. Edgar Beaumont had decorated the place with symbols ofhisgreatness. His accomplishments filled up the whole space, choking the air until all I could breathe in was him, the man whose expectations I’d never live up to.
I wanted to run after Jack, but I forced myself to go the other way instead, out the back and down to the pool, to get some fresh air and fresh perspective.
The fresh air just about forced its way into my lungs as the turbulent wind whipped around me, turning the waters of the pool into mini waves. Fresh perspective shoved itself into my brain as well.
Did Ireallythink Jack had killed Annie, and then made his way into my life just so he could enjoy watching me fall apart? Of course not.
But the fear in my father’s voice had beenreal, and I’d believed him when he said the Castellanis were no friends of ours. He’d refused to explain how he knew they had killed Annie, just insisted it was so.
“And think about it, Miller,” he’d urged me. “Why would a man like that be so interested inyou?”
Surely not because Jack actuallylikedme, or anything. That idea would be laughable to my father.
But Jack had always kept his word. Always looked out for me, even given me that USB, although I could see he didn’t want to. But he’d thrown it over to me as soon as I’d mentioned it, as soon as he saw a chance to make things right.
I wandered aimlessly around the pool, thinking of the day Jack had turned up in my backyard, of the way he’d questioned me. They hadn’t been the questions of a sadist trying to get a reaction.
My father had insisted I leave the house as soon as I hung up the phone, go and stay in a hotel, and not tell anyone where I was. He sounded so genuinely worried that I’d agreed, but after my argument with Jack, I didn’t feel like heading anywhere unfamiliar, and especially not alone. One of the only reasons he’d had agreed to leave was because there were guards here.
The clouds were scudding through the sky, casting shadows and light from the moon in rapid succession. That supercell storm that had been building up over the last few days—tonight was when it was due to hit.
It was going to be a wild night.
* * *
When I got back up to the house, it had been shut up for the night and the staff had all gone home. There were all those extra pierogis in the kitchen, but I wasn’t hungry anymore. Jack’s hat was sitting there on the kitchen counter where he’d left it, and my heart seized up a little to see it. I picked it up, then set it down again, before finally jamming it onto my head.
Maybe it would help me clear my thoughts.
I jogged outside to park my car in the garage to protect it from the coming storm, and then I checked in with security. All was well, they told me.
All was the farthest thing from fucking well, but I just nodded and went back into the house. I stopped in the lounge to retrieve the USB. I was ashamed by then of the way I’d immediately jumped to suspicion with Jack. My father had a way of undermining my confidence in myself. And the truth was, Jack meant so much to me, even after so little time, that I couldn’t help but second-guess him.
Couldn’t help but try to protect my heart instead of open it up.
One way to get rid of my suspicions would be to look at the photographs and reassure myself that Jack’s explanation had been true—that he just didn’t want me to see something I couldn’tunsee.
I didn’twantto look at the damn pictures. But I felt I owed it to Jack to do it, and hell, maybe I also owed it to Annie. If a Castellani had killed her—not Jack, I just downright did not believe that—there might besomethingin the pictures that suggested it.
