“Is your father also a police officer?” she blurted out, earning her a quizzical look from Danny as he shook his head.
“Nah, but my uncle is—Officer Eric Morales. You know him?”
She took a step forward, hands clasped. “Is there any way I can speak to him?”
“What about the shelter? It’s midnight, and Eric is probably asleep,” I questioned, unclear where she’s going with this.
“Parker is right. Can you fill me in on what's going on?”
Evelyn looked around before continuing, “Please. I need you to call him.”
“Ev—” I tried to reason with her again, but she cut me off.
“Please.”
Danny sent another incredulous look my way before turning toward the car with his phone to his ear.
She bit her thumbnail as she stared at Danny’s back.
When Danny returned, shaking his head, her eyes lit up for a flicker of a moment.
“I guess we’re going to my Tio’s.”
Chapter 5
Evelyn
Danny had a striking resemblance to Eric. I would never forget the older Puerto Rican man with tawny skin and graying hair around his hairline. Eric looked like he had seen some things on the streets of New York. His eyes held kindness, but the rest of his face said, “try me.”
He was the one who’d told me Charles was gone. Only he hadn’t meant dead like I had wished. After assaulting my body and doing unspeakable things to Celeste, he had disappeared from the burning salon. I knew he meant for me to die beside her, but I made it out.
Officer Eric Morales was first on the scene. If he hadn’t discovered me dragging my near-lifeless body into the alleyway and tended to my wounds until I was taken to the hospital, then Charles’ plan might have worked out in his favor.
Before I lost consciousness, I can remember his stern voice heavy with a signature Bronx accent, telling me that help was on the way and to fight like hell to stay alive.
This wasn’t where I thought the night would take me. Part of me wondered if I was making the same mistake, endangering someone else in my life. I was sitting in a car with a cop on myway to speak to another cop. I hoped like hell that I was doing the right thing.
When they both approached, I couldn’t believe my eyes. What were the odds that two years later I’d be standing in front of the nephew of the man who saved my life? I had to take this as a sign, possibly a move in the right direction.
The last 48 hours had been terrible, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it together.
Danny told Parker where to go once we were in the car, and we were outside an apartment complex ten minutes later. Parker dropped Danny off at the front of the building before he looked for an open spot. Once we’re parked, I turned to leave, but he stopped me.
“Wait. I’m sorry, I almost forgot,” he said, scrolling on his phone briefly before handing it to me. “I found this photo along with some other evidence near the back of the house.”
My heart nearly stopped, and I was filled with terror as I stared at the photo of Celeste and me on Parker’s phone. I almost wanted to reach out to trace the lines of her face, her smile. It dawned on me how long it’s been since I’d looked at a photo of her, and almost all at once, the guilt hit me, and my chest tightened.
My mouth moves to answer the question lingering between us.
“Charles took this picture,” I tell him, looking up from the painful memory. “Almost a month before, he decided that my sister didn’t deserve to live if he couldn’t have her.”
Neither Parker nor Charles should’ve had this photo because it was tucked between the pages of my copy ofLittle Womenby Louisa May Alcott.
My stomach roiled at the thought of Charles walking around our house, going through our things.
“Charles was your sister's boyfriend?” He timidly asked.
“No.”
