But I never imagined her hurt.
I never imagined her facing murder charges.
I never pictured Bea living a life in jail.
Through a clenched jaw, I ask, “You’re sure the evidence is strong?”
Tyler gives me a grim nod. “Looks it.”
Stepping away from Eden, I cross the dining room to look out the window. The grass is yellowed and patchy, with a few dingy patches of snow scattered across it. A line of towering evergreens stretches up to a darkening sky, and above them, a full moon is just beginning to make its appearance.
Past the treeline, there’s an impenetrable fence protecting us. Keeping anyone who might want to hurt us from coming in.
My hands tighten on the windowsill. The black carbon fiber of my prosthetic fingers contrasts with the pale wood beneath them.
“She couldn’t have,” I finally say. “I know it. There’s just no way.”
Rafe joins me by the window. His features are solemn and shadowed. “Are you sure?”
I turn to face my best friend. “I’m sure. As sure as I’ve been of anything. She didn’t do it.”
He stares at me for several long seconds. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “But I have to do something.”
CHAPTER 3
INDY
“Are you absolutely sure about this?”
Ace glances away from his reflection in the visor mirror to look at me. Silicone prosthetics mask most of his features, including a crooked nose that covers his straight one and a jutting jaw with an obvious underbite. Paired with a dark brown wig and matching eyebrows, he looks nothing like the man I’ve known for years.
“It’s not that I don’t believe you when you say she couldn’t have done it,” Ace adds before I can respond. “You knew her. So if you’re sure, that’s good enough for me. It’s just?—”
“It’s a risk,” Webb interjects. He sets down the hand mirror he’s been peering into for the last several minutes as we’ve been putting the finishing touches on our disguises. “If you say Bea didn’t do it, I believe you.”
“She didn’t,” I insist. The more time that’s passed since I first read the article, the more sure I’ve become. Bea couldn’t kill someone. Not like that. And especially not someone she considered a friend.
That’s something else we discovered during our investigation last night—that the victim wasn’t just one of Bea’s coworkers, but a friend. When I first heard about it, I could possibly—possibly—see Bea killing someone in self-defense. But someone she liked? Cared about?
No way.
I don’t care what the evidence says.
And it’s like Rafe said while we were all talking last night. “It’s easy enough to plant evidence. And if the person you’re framing is unconscious? It wouldn’t be hard to frame them at all.”
Unfortunately, according to the police report, they don’t seem to see it the same way. Bea’s their only suspect, and in the nearly twelve hours since Jenna Wentworth’s body was found, with Bea sprawled out unconscious beside her, they don’t seem to be searching for anyone else.
“That’s what happens,” Rafe replied grimly when I brought up that point. “If the evidence all points in one direction, the police usually won’t look for a different one. Not unless someone important is pressuring them.”
But someoneispressuring the police, just not in the direction we want.
Something else we discovered is that Jenna’s boyfriend is the son of a Maryland congressman. And he and his family are pushing for a quick resolution. In a statement from the Congressman released last night, he said, “My son is heartbroken by the loss of his precious Jenna. It’s a terrible loss for him and all the patients she helped. Nothing can bring Jenna back. But we can make sure her killer is brought to swift justice.”
Meaning, don’t look for other suspects. Take the evidence as given. And as soon as Bea is declared stable by her doctors, drag her to jail and push for a speedy trial.
And that’s what’ll happen if we don’t step in.
