Slamming his fists into the table, Aiden yelled, “Claudia tried to kidnap you?! Cut the crap, Howe!”
“You wanted answers.”
“Answers, notlies.” Because that was what this was. A carefully constructed web of untruths, designed to targetAiden’s psyche. To make him doubt not only the way she’d died, but also her.
“I’m not lying.”
“Bullshit!”
Did Darren really think he would fall for something like this?
Aiden cursed at himself for humoring Darren Howe, for allowing thismurdererto spin him around his little finger like a fool. But Darren’s arguments had been compelling, logically sound if Aiden were to believe them.
Why would Darren go to these lengths just to fuck with him though? Lies or otherwise, Darren would be dead in less than an hour, and he knew that. Knew Aiden couldn’t let him walk away.
Aiden’s eyelids felt heavy and his headache threatened to split his head. He’d gotten nowhere and at this point he’d off Darren and only have more questions. More doubts, more things to wonder about that would keep him up at night unless he took those nasty sleeping meds.
After a long pause, he said, “Why should I believe you when the only thing you deserve is a knife in the throat?”
“Because if you were going to kill me, you’d have done so the moment I refused to answer the one question that’s been eating at you for two years.”
The why. The motive. Aiden had let Darren steer him away from it with a made-up story of conspiracy.Fuck, he really wasn’t at his best. He was exhausted and this was just too much. But he had to see it through, finish what he’d started. He was almost there.
“I’m still—”
“No, you won’t kill me. Because you are desperate for the truth and a part of you,that attention-to-detailpart of you which didn’t drop this case even if you should have,knows that what I’m saying is not a lie. That it’s the only explanation that makes some sense, even if you don’t want to believe it.”
Aiden bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He was going crazy, because as much as he wanted to be done with the man and crush him with the steel beam, Darren was right. The investigation, the evidence, the reports, they’d all happened so conveniently. Aiden had been blinded by grief at first, then everything had moved forward so quickly—the phone call had emerged, the culprit had been identified. And the little details, the ones that didn’t quite fit into the picture had been overshadowed by the lack of motive. Then the court proceedings and the refusal of the police to let Aiden see for himself what sort of a man killed for no other reason than sick fun had driven him almost crazy.
Aiden paced back and forth, vibrating with nerves. He wanted to strangle Darren, to make him suffer. He also wanted to scream. To storm the police station and make them tell him the truth once and for all. To confront Cleveland again, to get his hands on the proceedings from the trial. To ask Marcus if Claudia had really died on February 4th, and if yes, why he and the authorities had lied about it.
But he couldn’t do any of this. He’d tried, he really had, to get to the bottom of this, but all he’d gotten in return was everyone blindsiding him. He’d been lied to. Been told to go home and move on. He was powerless against whatever this was, and that was why he’d come here to seek the answers from a murderer.
“I find your intelligence to be one of your most attractive traits,” Darren said without being prompted, interrupting his train of thought.
Aiden scowled, ignoring the flutter in his chest. “Then you know I can’t take your words at face value even ifyourexplanation about the cover-up and autopsy is… plausible.” But the rest? Aiden didn’t have proof any of it was true, no matter how well it all worked together. And the part where Claudia had been the one to go after Darren… Thatwascrazy. She was a businesswoman, not a kidnapper. If she was capable of something like that, Aiden would’ve known it since they didn’t keep secrets from each other.
“I didn’t expect you to.”
Aiden stomped down the need to hit Darren again and held onto the table’s edge with his hands, narrowing his eyes. “Why did you kill Claudia?”
Some of the fake confidence left Darren’s demeanor. His shoulders grew taut and his eyes went distant, lost in some memory or thought. The change was only momentary, but Aiden didn’t miss it—for a heartbeat, Darren looked like a man who had nothing and everything to lose. Who was ready to throw himself over the edge of a cliff and let the unknown decide his fate. In the next second though, that enthralling spark wasforcedback to his gaze, even if his features defaulted to the uncanny detachment Aiden had been observing all night.
Over a sigh charged with something deep and hidden, Darren said, “NJ-O4A-RST. It’s a passcode.”
“What?”
“Take a shuttle to Mars. Once you are there, go to the Moonshine Ravine in Atlan and ask for Bea. Say that Sir Barnaby Albus II sent you to find the white raven. Do not share the coordinates she gives you with anyone and only use the vehicle she provides for you. If you want the whole truth, Kesley, NJ-O4A-RST is where you’ll find it.”
Aiden squeezed the table, his pulse quickening. “For fuck’s sake, Howe! Stop it with the games! Just tell me what I want to know!”
Darren shrugged, pressing his lips into a line. “I doubt you would believe me even if I told you the truth. So, if you want to find out what happened, you will have to do as I say.”
“Or I can just kill you and get this over with,” Aiden snarled, his head pulsating.
“You could, but then you will never find out the truth.” A pause. And an inhale which offered a glimpse of the real Darren hiding behind the masterful façade. The one who lived in that captivating darkness Aiden had glimpsed earlier. “Because everyone will keep lying to you, just like they have done so far. You know it even if you don’t want to admit it. So, leave it or take it.”
Aiden averted his gaze, biting on the inside of his cheek. Darren wasn’t wrong; without actual evidence, his words had no weight. They were just another lie. And yet… they didn’t really feel that way. Aiden’s gut told him they were the prelude, the tip of the iceberg, the warm-up of what truly lay buried at the bottom of the ocean if he dared to uncover it.
