“Was Aaron dealing, Zee?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I think you are.”
She looked away. “You don’t know what I think, so don’t pretend you do.”
“You were almost a cop. You saw the signs in your brother’s behavior, I can tell by the look on your face. You didn’t recognize them for what they were, maybe, but now you do.”
She stalked away a few steps. “So what if he was, Gideon? None of this matters anyway. My brother was murdered.”
“I know that, but itdoesmatter.”
She whirled on him. “Why? Are you implying he deserved what he got because he might have been dealing drugs?”
“No, you’re picking a fight to derail this conversation.”
The blood rushed to her face. “I’m not derailing anything.”
“Yes, you are. Know what I think?”
She tipped up her chin. “No, do tell. What does Gideon Landry think?”
He took a breath, his words softer than a caress. “I think you feel guilty, deep down, like his death is somehow your fault because of what you saw or didn’t see. You haven’t dug into Aaron’s motivations with the same vigor you do other cases because you don’t want to know.”
She flinched. Anger felt like a live wire touching her tender skin. She burned with it as she glared at him. “Really? Well, maybe it’s the opposite. Maybeyoudon’t want to feel the guilt of not showing up for him.”
“I’ve got my share of guilt. Always will, both for what I didn’t do in high school and when I came home that Christmas. I’m not dumping guilt on you, Zee, that’s notwhat I’m after. I just want you to see what you’re doing to yourself.”
She folded her arms, not trusting herself to speak. She wished she was anywhere but here with the emotions popcorning inside and threatening to break through the thin crust of her resolve. This was about justice, nothing more or less.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “it’s hard to see the truth about people you love. I didn’t want to acknowledge anything bad about Aaron either. I loved him, and nothing he did or didn’t do will change that. If he messed up, got involved with dangerous people, that was his choice. But it doesn’t have to be yours.”
Unable to face him, she stared out the window, his reflection joined with hers.
“This conversation isn’t changing anything,” she managed. “I’m sorry my brother behaved badly during high school. I’m sorry he might have been dealing drugs, but none of that earned him a bullet in the head. I am going to make sure Aaron’s death wasn’t meaningless. I’m going to destroy Bullseye. Nothing has changed.”
She was breathing hard, trembling, fighting tears.
“But it could, Zee. You could change things.” He touched her shoulder, and she froze. She could not, would not, turn around and look at him.
“Your mission is going to get you dead. Can’t you see that?”
Face hot, she gritted her teeth. “I don’t want to die, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”
He squeezed her shoulder hard, his breath warm on her cheek. “You shouldn’t be. God will bring justice inthis world or the next. In his time, not yours. You weren’t responsible for Aaron’s death. I wasn’t either. Don’t let your guilt cost you your life. It’s not worth it.”
His hand dropped away, and she stood there in the dark and frigid space, mind reeling, spirit crushed. It was as if she hadn’t grieved her brother until that moment, until she’d learned the truth of who he was and what he’d done. Maybe she’d only grieved the caricature of Aaron, the funny little sketch of him she’d allowed herself to see. Happy, bubbly, amusing, generous, drug-dealing Aaron.
Above anything else, she felt a terrible pain that Aaron hadn’t shown her who he really was, the insecurity that made him need friends so badly, the desperation that caused him to seek out Bullseye’s easy money.
Why didn’t you let me in, Aaron?
I loved you. Why didn’t you let me help?
She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Gideon drape a blanket around her shoulders and hold her close.
She let him, for just a moment, until she curled in on herself and he guided her to her bunk.
