Page 28 of Hard Heart

“Then why commit it to paper?”

“You’re English, yes? Have you ever read Sherlock Holmes?”

“No? I watched a few episodes of the TV show, though.”

“Do you recall the quote, ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth’?”

“It sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Then know I’ve spent years thinking through this mess, searching for a reason. I have a good idea who killed Ruby, but I don’t know why, and that’s the only explanation. August died soon after she did, and Big Oil has deep pockets. His notes burned in the fire. My laptop mysteriously vanished.”

“You didn’t have backups?” I blurted, because that oversight would have been incredibly dumb, and if there was one thing I was coming to realise about Levi Sykes, it was that he wasn’t stupid.

And for the first time, he hesitated.

“My laptop disappeared from the police evidence locker.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“There are no backups available.”

Careful words. A denial with a caveat. In a twisted way, I liked that.

“If I’m going to help you, I need you to be upfront with me.”

“Right now, I don’t know you, but if you are who you say you are, I’m sure you’ll understand why I don’t trust people easily. Who was the other woman you were with?”

“Huh?”

“At my house. Duke said there were two of you.”

“Uh, my roommate. We were visiting her family for Christmas, and we took a side trip.”

“Is she a lawyer too?”

“No, she’s a dancer.” Shit. Too much information. “Forget I said that.”

Soft laughter wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. “I’ll add you to my visitor list. If you want to continue this conversation, bring the credentials you do have, and we’ll talk. Happy New Year, Serafina.”

Then he was gone. I realised I’d been pacing the living room and sagged back onto the sofa, adrenaline seeping out of me as I replayed the conversation in my head.

Just like that, a convicted murderer had called me on a smuggled cell phone for a chat. Yes, I’d included my mobile number in the covering letter, but only so the prison staff could call me if there was a problem with anything I’d written, seeing as I fell into that uncomfortable gap between visitor and lawyer and I didn’t want them contacting the office if they had any questions.

The conversation left my mind spinning.

Since I began working at the Justice Project, I’d spoken with three other prisoners. Elias Jones had been friendly to the point of obsequiousness, nodding along with everything Raelene said, full of thank-yous and yes-ma’ams. Samantha Stevens cried the whole hour we were there. Javier Montenegro leered at me, and although I’d taken Raelene’s advice on my attire with loose trousers and a blouse that buttoned right up to my chin, he’d still spent more time studying my chest than listening to a word she had to say. Had he been wrongly convicted? Possibly, but even if he was innocent of the crime in question, I was fairly sure he was guilty of something. He’d given me the creeps.

But Sykes… Sykes was different. Playful almost, even as he kept control of the conversation. It had felt as though he was interviewing me rather than the other way around. Clever, well-spoken, a little mysterious, and he’d acknowledged the hopelessness of the situation.

Fascinating.

And then there was the hint at backups. That the data he thought Ruby had been killed over still existed. Where was the information? Why had he kept it hidden all these years? Surely if he brought his work into the light, it would neutralise the enemy?

Neutralise the enemy.

Hell, I sounded like a freaking soldier.

And looking back, I’d had no idea this was about to become a war.