Arthur stares at me. “That’s definitely something I would consider damaging. Next question: Any new life insurance policies? And what’s in her will? I assume you get everything? As I recall, she sold her company for a nice chunk of change.”
“She did, and the life insurance would be enough to bail me out of all my problems with the restaurant. Don’t flip out, but we renewed it about six months ago and tripled the value.”
Arthur slowly blinks.
“I’m not stupid,” I say. “I know that looks bad, but we talked about it and wanted to make sure the debts would be covered if anything happened to either one of us.”
He tips his glass back, empties it, and sets it down. “Okay. Well. At least there’s no evidence of foul play—it’s all circumstantial—unless there are witnesses. It sounds like people saw you arguing, but no one saw you push her.”
“Because I didn’t,” I insist. My voice breaks, and I hang my head. “I don’t want her to die. And I don’t want to lose my family.”
I fight hard to choke back a sob because Arthur and I were taught to never show weakness. It was beaten into us. We were raised to bewarriors, tough as nails, which is why Arthur is such a damn good defense attorney.
He gets up, moves to his desk, sits down, and opens his laptop. While he types something, I stare down at my Scotch and hunger to get back to the hospital. I want to hold Sienna’s hand and tell her how sorry I am and how much I love her. I need her to wake up so that I can start over, be a better man, and prove myself to her instead of my father.
Arthur’s cell phone rings, and he answers it. “Hello?” He glances at me briefly, then rises from his chair. “When? Okay, thanks for letting me know.”
He ends the call, and his expression tightens with displeasure. “LaPierre got a search warrant. They’re heading to your house now.”
A trembling begins in my limbs, followed by convulsions of panic. “Based on what evidence? You said it was all circumstantial.”
“They could have information from a witness, or maybe you said something to give them cause?”
“I don’t think so.”
Arthur considers that. “They’re looking for digital and print records. Should we be worried?”
“I don’t know,” I reply. “But Sienna wasn’t happy. They might find evidence of that. God knows what she texted about me to Becky.”
“They need more than feelings to use as evidence in court.”
My hands turn clammy, slick with nervous sweat. “I just want to get back to Sienna.”
“Give me the key to your house,” Arthur says, “so I can let them in. I’ll drop you off at the hospital on the way.”
I’m grateful for his decisiveness. And the hospital is the only place I want to be right now.
I drain my glass of Scotch and get up.
“Thanks for helping me,” I say.
“It’s what families do,” he replies and holds out his hand.
I stare at it and feel undeserving of his kindness. He’s not my father, and I should have been a better brother to him, a better uncle to his children.
“I need the key to your house,” he says flatly, which pulls me back to reality. I’m being investigated for attempted murder. I need to keep my emotions in check.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amanda
I startle awake and don’t know where I am. Then I sit up and stare groggily at my father, who has just touched my shoulder. My eyes dart to Mom. She’s still the same. Her face is bruised and marked with scabs and stitches. A bandage covers the area where her head has been shaved, and she’s still in a deep coma, eyes closed.
“How are you doing?” Dad asks.
Arching my back in the uncomfortable chair, I stretch my stiff muscles and bend from side to side. “I’m okay.”
“Where’s Connor?” he asks.
