Page 33 of My Beautiful Sin

I force myself not to look at Brandy, then I swallow and say, “I’m not telling you anything.”

He almost smiles. “No. I guess you’re not. Shit.” He runs his hands over his shaved head. “If he knows, why the hell hasn’t he told Chief Randall? Because then he’d have to reveal how he knows,” he continues, answering his own question. “And that would mean revealing who he is now. Fuck.”

I swallow, then force myself not to lean back when he turns his narrowed gaze on me. “But he’s told you,” Lamar says, his words coming slowly as if he’s a freshman trying to talk his way through a calculus problem. “He must have because that’s not what you’re investigating. You’re looking into the why behind what Peter did. Not the question of who shot him. You. His niece. And you’re not even looking anymore.”

“That’s not the point of the article,” I say.

“No,” he agrees. “You’re doing your family piece. A story of how it all went wrong.”

I glance toward Brandy; I can’t help myself.

Lamar doesn’t notice, though. He’s still working through his thoughts, and I can’t think of a way to distract him.

“For as long as I’ve known you,” Lamar says, “you’re like a dog with a bone. Your editor may want the touchy-feely story, but you want answers. And when you first came to town, you wanted to know who the real killer was. But now you’re not looking anymore.”

“What would be the point?” I ask. “You know as well as I do that the odds of getting a conviction when someone else has already confessed or been tried. It’s rare to never.”

“Maybe. But you’d still want to know, and yet you’re not looking. That means Devlin told you. So then the question is why aren’t you pursuing it? Is the killer dead? If so, why haven’t you told Chief Randall. Or me, for that matter?” He starts to pace, the tension in his body coming off him like waves. “Instead, you’re holding it close because Devlin told you to. Or else he—”

His eyes go wide, and his body straightens. “Oh, fuck me. Ellie, what the hell? You’re telling me that Devlin Saint killed your uncle?”

A cold chill runs over me. “I never said that.”

He closes his eyes, draws a breath, then opens them again. “He told you to tell me everything. So why did you leave that part out? I mean, Brandy already knows, right?”

This time, I don’t even try to hide the fact that I’m looking toward Brandy. She nods, but I’ve already made up my mind. “Yeah,” I say. “She knows.”

“You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to burden me. Even though Saint told you to. He said to tell me the rest of it.”

I lift a shoulder in silent acknowledgement, and he nods, obviously still processing everything.

“So tell me the rest. Like how the hell you can possibly be okay with this. I mean, your boyfriend murdered your uncle.”

I shake my head. “I never said a word about Devlin killing Peter. But you and I know that if he did, there would only be one reason for it, and that’s if he was protecting me.”

Lamar nods slowly. “His father gave him an ultimatum. Take out Peter or watch his girlfriend get blown away.”

“Defense of others,” I say softly, wishing that Lamar understood. That he wasn’t standing there reciting facts. I want him beside me, holding my hand and telling me that he understands everything I went through. Everything Devlin went through.

“Defense of others? Don’t even, Ellie. You know that wouldn’t fly. He could have gone to the authorities. He could have hidden you away, gotten help. Instead, he took matters into his own hands. He did what his father wanted, and your uncle’s dead because of it. Peter could still be alive. He could have served his time by now and be back with you. Your family. A man who loved and took care of you.”

His eyes turn cold. So does my blood. “Instead, you have the man who killed him.”

“Lamar, please. You have to understand—”

I glance at Brandy, who looks terrified.

Lamar runs his hand over his head. “Look. I get what you’re saying. I do. But you’ve got to remember who I am. I’m not just your friend. I’m a cop. You have to know that I love you and that I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

He’s waiting for me to respond, so I nod, hoping that I really do know that.

“Good. But Ellie, here’s the thing. This ... I didn’t ask for this. I don’t know how I can keep a lid on it. Or maybe I did ask for it. Maybe I asked for it by poking around. I don’t know. But did you think about this? Maybe he’s just playing me. Playing you, too.”

“No way,” Brandy says, speaking for the first time, and I think I want to kiss her, I’m so happy she’s still on my side. “He’s not doing that. What are you even talking about?”

Lamar looks from Brandy to me. “Maybe he’s trying to make himself look like one of the good guys when he’s really three steps ahead of me. There’s no question the man’s smart. Maybe he knew I would figure it out eventually. That you would either accidentally tell me, or I’d find out he killed Peter. That’s the job, right. And eventually I would have found my answers.”

He pauses, then continues before I have a chance to say anything. “Doing it this way—telling you to tell me everything so that I feel obligated to keep your secret, not his—is Saint’s way of staying three steps ahead of me. Of making sure he’s protected. And by a cop, no less.”