Chapter 24
Ifor half-ran, half-stumbled as he headed back toward the hotel.
Mr. Kelly’s words rang in his ears.
I killed that man tonight—for you.
What man had he killed? Killed! And why had Susan wanted him dead?
Stick to your word and help me steal that money!
Had she really planned to steal money from her own place of employment—from the very people in the community who trusted her the most?
It couldn’t be true. Surely, it couldn’t. And, yet, he’d heard it with his own ears.
A chill swept through him as he remembered something she’d said at Opal’s house.
I feel bad taking her money.
She’d been talking about the few coins that Opal had left for her as payment for the chores she was doing. Was that a lie, too? Maybe she didn’t feel bad. Maybe she’d planned to take even more.He couldn’t bear the thought.
If there was one good thing to come fromall that had happened, it was that Opal would never have to experience the jagged agony of Susan’s betrayal.
He should’ve known. He marched through the barren landscape, his breathing as heavy as his heart. He should’ve known! It’s impossible to ever really know anyone. Even those closest to you can end up betraying you. He’d seen it happen with Rhys. And now...
Susan was just like his brother. Taking what wasn’t hers to take, and ending a life in an attempt tocover it up. She may not have stolen the money from the post office yet, but she would’ve, if the earthquake hadn’t stopped her first.
He scoffed. And there he’d been, worried thatshe was in danger. Begging her to come to him if she needed help. He’d been a mug. She’d deceived him all along.
Not only had he lost her—the woman he’d envisioned spending the rest of his life with—but she’d never even existed in the first place. She was a liar, like Rhys.
A tear spilled out of his eye. He swiped it away hurriedly with a firmed hand. No. He wouldn’t waste any tears on someone who could do such a thing.
Some poor man, whoever he was—Mr. Kelly had killed him. It was too bewildering to take in. Too horrible.
Had Susan faked her bruise to draw out his own sympathy? Was she planning to steal from him, somehow, too? To kill him?
Well, she’d already done it. She’d killed off the last bit of trust left in him.
Tonight, he would tend to his father. And, tonight, he would inform the sheriff that a murder had taken place.
I killed that man tonight—for you.
A man had really been killed. A life had been intentionally taken.
For her. For the woman who’d captivated and deluded him.
For the woman he never wanted to lay eyes on again.