“Well, not by killing Zadie, that’s for sure.” He muttered more profanity under his breath and shook his head in disgust. “I’ve been going through my adoptive mother’s things, looking for something. Anything,” he amended. “She was a therapist, and I remember someone mentioning that she had some patients who were former surrogates at New Hope.”
Livvy moved to the edge of her seat. “Your adoptive mom, what’s her name?” she asked, and Ethan heard the instant alarm in her voice.
“Dr. Meryl Carter,” Anthony said, and he pinned his attention to her. He didn’t smile, but his mouth twisted into what seemed to be amusement.
Livvy stood so fast that her chair fell back, clattering onto the floor. “Interview paused,” she said for the sake of the recording and added, “I need a minute.”
She rushed out of the room, and Ethan was right behind her. “What’s wrong?” He couldn’t ask fast enough. He led her down the hall and out of earshot from Anthony.
“Dr. Meryl Carter,” she repeated, her voice a tangle of raw nerves that matched her expression. “She was my therapist when I was a teenager. And God, Ethan, I told her every detail about the nightmare.”
Hell. Ethan had no trouble connecting the dots. Anthony had admitted to going through his adoptive mom’s files. So, he knew. Anthony would know exactly how to set up Zadie’s murder.
But now the question was why would Anthony have done that?
Chapter Five
Livvy had to fight the panic she felt clawing its way up her throat. It was closing in, smothering her, causing her to feel her control slipping away.
Ethan must have realized what was happening. Of course he did. He’d been her champion and her rescuer for years when they were growing up. Rushing into her room at night to wake her from the horrible dreams. He’d been there, too, when the flashbacks had been so bad they’d brought her to her knees.
Like now.
The mother lode of flashbacks. The dead woman in the tub. Zadie, dead and posed the same way.
Blood on her own six-year-old hands.
Livvy could practically see that blood now. Could smell it. And could feel that fear that she’d experienced as that traumatized child. She’d told every bit of what she remembered to Dr. Carter, and now the therapist’s adoptive son had just admitted he’d gone through her files. So, he knew.
God, he knew.
“This way,” Ethan insisted, hooking his arm around her and pulling her into the small observation room. He shut the door, whipped out his phone and texted Grace. “I’ll ask her if she can get someone else to finish the interview.”
Livvy groaned. She hated that she couldn’t do her job and was putting this on her boss, but she was too shaken to finish the interview. Too close to the detail. And that kind of closeness could fuel mistakes.
With that reminder, she looked up at Ethan. He was typing away at the text on his phone, but he was certainly close. So close that it both helped and hurt. Livvy felt her nerves start to settle. Ethan could work miracles like that—an instant soother for the flashbacks. But that closeness lit up the fire that always seemed to be simmering between them.
“Grace will handle it,” he said when he got a reply to his text. “She’ll do the interview herself, and we’ll soon have a report on Ivy Milbrath and Chloe’s marriage and divorce.”
He looked at her then, their gazes colliding, and he must have seen that heat in her eyes. No way to shut it down, and over the years, she had tried. Mercy, had she. Nothing had worked.
Normally, Ethan just turned away or quickly found an excuse to put some distance between them. But he didn’t do that now. On a sigh, he pulled her into his arms.
“I can’t be weak,” she muttered. “I need to face this head-on.”
“You are facing it,” Ethan assured her. She felt his warm breath brush against her cheek. Almost a kiss. And yes, that calmed her, too.
Along with giving her a tug of that heat.
But unwanted heat was far better than the stomach-twisting panic.
“I’m letting Grace down by walking out of that interview,” Livvy insisted, and even though she hated to do it, she stepped out of Ethan’s arms. Ready to go back into that room with Anthony.
Ethan stopped her by taking hold of her arm. “Play this out in your head. If Anthony did kill Zadie and he used info from your childhood trauma, then it’s best if Grace does the interview. You’re too close to this. Hell, I’m also close to it,” he admitted. “I’ve seen you go through the nightmares, and I know what they do to you. If Anthony is toying with that to get back at you, then it’s best if we hand over the questioning to someone else.”
Ethan was right about this being too personal. The entire investigation was for both of them. And to add to the problem, there were all those blasted blank spots in her memories.
“Maybe I killed Anthony’s mother when I was six,” Livvy threw out. “I don’t remember doing it, so I have no idea what would have prompted me to resort to something like that.”
