She made herself a cup of coffee, seemingly unbothered. “Sure, I guess, if it’s still important to you.”
I strode toward her and wrapped my hand around her arm. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Her lazy eyes looked down at our connection. “Release me, or I call the police.”
And I knew she wasn’t kidding with how flat her voice had become. So, I released her and raked my hands through my hair.
“The night of the accident and the chain of events that came after that destroyed my life, Becca.”
She tilted her head. “You’re going to have to use specifics in order to justify this business.”
“You really don’t know anything about what your sister got into when she was a teenager, do you?”
“I know about her juvie record.”
I scoffed. “That stupid little record is a drop in the bucket to what she had done. Your sister has skeletons in her closet that will haunt her the rest of her life, and because of that accident I got roped into it because I let her borrow my parent’s fucking car that night.”
“To do what?”
It’s now or never.“Dispose of the body.”
Her brow furrowed. “Come again?”
I gripped her upper arms. “Your sister was peddling drugs, Becca. All through high school. She did it to help your parents pay their bills. Did you ever wonder how the hell you guys could afford where you lived while your mother stayed at home and your father worked as a fucking teacher?”
She swallowed hard. “Hard… work?”
I shook her a little bit. “Wake up, Rebecca!”
She slapped my hands away. “What the fuck are you talking about? Drugs? A body!? My sister isn’t a murderer!”
“Except she is, Rebecca. The night she asked to borrow my car, she had been beaten. Badly. I don’t know if she started using the product she was supposed to be selling, or she couldn’t sell it off, or whatever the hell happened. But she showed up at my house in the middle of the night panicking, covered in blood, bruised from head to toe, and searching for a car with a trunk.”
“How do you know this? How do you know any of this?”
He hovered over me. “Because I was one of her customers. I was one of the kids she sold nuggets to.”
She wrinkled her nose. “All of this over some pot?”
I growled at her. “Crack, Rebecca. Your sister slung crack.”
She slowly backed herself into a corner. “No.”
“Yes.”
“There’s no fucking way.”
“It’s true, whether you want to believe it or not. That juvie record of hers? It’s for assault. She assaulted a dealer that came after her. A guy above her head that was chosen to collect money from her and distribute new product whenever it came in. He came onto her one night when she didn’t have all of the money she needed to turn over, and she fought back.”
“He tried to rape her!?”
I clapped my hand so tightly over her mouth that her eyes bulged. “Yes, he tried. She got away, but he reported the assault to the police, and instead of coming clean she did her time, so to speak. The only reason I know this is because I was the only person in the world she was talking to about it. I dragged it out of her while we were dating and ever since that moment, I became the only person she could talk to about it.”
Her eyes searched mine, but she didn’t try to fight back, so I removed my hand from her mouth.
“But her fighting back didn’t stop that man from coming onto her. The second time she was short money, he came onto her again. Only that time, he didn’t stop. He beat her to a bloody pulp, that’s why she looks so beaten in the picture you found on that blog while I don’t.”
She blinked. “You found the blog post.”
