I followed the elegantly dressed legs to find they were attached to an elegantly dressed man.
He was lean but muscled, and though I hadn’t met many people in real life, he was nothing like the men my mother used to bring home.
This man looked like he came from a completely different world than my mother. He was in a suit that had clean lines, and a diamond earring glinted in the lobe of his right ear. His thick, healthy, chestnut brown hair was soft and styled perfectly against his head.
Penetrating, whiskey-colored eyes met mine, and a warm smile curled across lips painted on a perfectly symmetrical, chiseled jaw.
“You must be Callum Walker,” the man said, his voice rolling over me like honey and … something thicker.
He reached out a large masculine hand. I stared at it blankly, not knowing what he wanted me to do with it. He cocked his head to the side at my hesitation. I didn’t understand the look on his face, but I wasn’t sure I liked it.
“When a man offers you a hand, you’re meant to shake it. It’s how you show you’re willing to do business,” he explained. I squinted up at him in confusion.
“B… business?” I whispered, my voice still barely a rasp.
He pinched his pants over his thighs and tugged them up as he crouched down in front of me, getting on my level.
“You have a lot to learn, Callum Walker,” he said, that viscous voice of his making my hair stand on end.
Why did he keep saying my full name like that?
I glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Cassandra and Naomi, but the man reached forward and pinched my chin between his fingers. He jerked my head back to face him.
“Pay attention when I’m speaking to you, Mr. Walker,” he ordered, that hypnotizing voice of his hardening from sweet honey to hard amber.
“Now. Word on the street is your sister slit your momma’s throat. Is that true?”
I eyed this domineering man up and down. Something about him told me he was dangerous, and I needed to be careful what I said to him.
The deep-seated part of me that felt fiercely protective of both Cass and Naomi made me want to keep his attention off of them.
He released my jaw, and I glanced down at my blood-caked T-shirt before meeting his unsettling gaze again.
“What do you think?” I rasped, genuinely curious. The detectives didn’t seem to believe Cass. Did this man believe her? Something told me he wasn’t a detective… He didn’t seem like anyone else who worked here at all…
“It’s hard to say. The knife wound in your mother’s neck looks like it was carved from behind, which aligns with your sister’s story.” He mused, rocking back in his heels. “It would explain why she’s not covered in blood.”
I nodded, biting my lip nervously, waiting to see what else he would say.
“However, it doesn’t explain why you were the one holding the knife,” he said, his eyes flashing with a terrifying sort of delight.
“Did you kill her, Callum? You can tell me if you did. You won’t get in trouble.”
I knew he wanted me to say that I did it. He was looking at me so intensely. I wasn’t surewhy,but he wanted me to tell him I had killed her. What would happen to Cass if this commanding man thoughtshehad done it?
“What will happen if I tell you I did it?” I whispered.
A scary smile spread wide across his face, and he patted my knee in a way that I thought was meant to be comforting.
“I will set you and your sisters up in a nice house. You’ll have a caretaker until you turn eighteen, after which you will be given enough money to do whatever it is your little heart desires. The only catch is you will have to come work for me.”
“Work for you?”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. The way they crinkled at the corners reminded me of a picture of a man my mom said was called Santa Claus. I found the print of the character in one of the garbage piles in our living room two winters ago.
“Yes, Mr. Walker.”
I couldn’t seem to look away from his perfectly tanned face.
