Chapter 6 Genevieve #2
“Have a seat and we’ll dive in.” Jim spent nearly an hour walking me through the projects he needed me to work on today. It was a lot, but every time he asked if that was enough, I told him to pile on more.
I could handle it. I needed it, desperately.
This job would be my salvation for the time being.
“All right.” I hefted the stack of files we’d gone through. “I’ll get to work.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, the crinkles beside his eyes deepening.
Jim had a gentle nature, but Gayle had told me during my second day not to let that fool me. For his clients, Jim was a bulldog and his success rate proved it.
No surprise Draven had him on retainer. Bulldog was definitely Draven’s style.
“One last thing.” Jim stopped me before I could leave, his smile fading. “As you know, your dad is my client.”
“Yes.”
“The trial won’t start for a while, but normally, I’d have you help me prepare motions to suppress evidence and do background checks on any witnesses the state will call. Not this time.”
“I understand. It’s a conflict of interest.”
“I’ll be as honest with you as my employee as I am with my clients. Draven knows this is a long shot.”
“Oh.” I jerked. Why did that shock me? Just weeks ago, I’d thought Draven was the killer.
But a lot had changed. I might know the real killer was out there, but the police didn’t. If the prosecution convicted him, he’d spend the rest of his life in prison.
I’d forgotten that the world saw Draven as a murderer.
“I appreciate the honesty,” I told Jim. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
Jim pointed to the stack of folders in my arms. “You’re doing it.
When I have a big case, normally everything else gets done at night or not at all.
It might not seem like you’re helping, but by you keeping things going around here, it’ll give me time to focus on your dad’s case. Keep it front and center.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I spent the remainder of the morning in my office, cranking through the tasks Jim had assigned me.
I filled every free moment, never once taking a break, because if I stopped, even for a moment, I’d think about Mom or Draven or Isaiah.
I didn’t want to think about them. The only exception was when my timer dinged on my phone every hour and I texted Isaiah my one-word check in.
Okay.
He didn’t respond. But I knew if he didn’t get that text every hour, he’d race this way.
Jim popped in shortly after lunch. “I’m taking off. Thanks again.”
“Have a great weekend.”
He waved, then said goodbye to Gayle, leaving the two of us alone.
When the door chimed behind him, I pulled the can of pepper spray from my purse and left it on my lap as I worked.
Draven had handed it to me on Monday when he’d met us before work.
Gayle was a stout woman, a bulldog in her own right, but I doubted she’d be able to stop a killer if he stormed into the firm.
Would staying alone get easier? Or would I spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, clutching cans of pepper spray?
I forced the fear away, focusing on work. When five o’clock rolled around, I texted Isaiah that I was ready to leave, collected my things and met Gayle at the door.
“Have a nice weekend, Gayle.”
“You too.” We stepped onto the sidewalk and she locked the door, tucking her keys in her purse. “Glad you’re here, Genevieve.”
“Thanks.”
Gayle took off in the opposite direction, preferring to walk the five blocks home in the summer months, as I went to the parking lot. A black motorcycle was parked behind my car. Its rider’s haunted, magnificent eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses.
“Hey.”
Isaiah’s rugged voice sent a shiver down my spine. “Hi. How was your day?”
“Fine. You?”
“It was a busy day.” I walked to my car, forgoing the door to lean against the trunk.
I wasn’t in a hurry to get to the apartment and hole up.
I wanted a few moments for the sun to kiss my face.
“Jim talked to me about Draven’s trial. I forgot with everything else happening that most think he’s guilty.
And I feel like I’m playing catch-up, that everyone is ten steps ahead. ”
Isaiah swung off his bike and came to lean against the trunk. “Want me to tell you what I know? It isn’t much, but maybe it’ll help.”
“Please.” Maybe together, we could make sense of what was happening.
“The police have the murder weapon. It was a hunting knife with Draven’s name engraved on the side. Had his prints. And they know he was at the motel.”
Those were things I’d learned from Bryce’s newspaper. I’d forced myself to read the stories about Mom’s murder earlier in the week.
“A guy broke into the clubhouse and stole that knife,” Isaiah said.
“Emmett caught it on surveillance. Bryce ran a story a few papers ago showing the guy breaking in. She speculated that he could have stolen the knife. She’d hoped it would cause a stir, that maybe people in town would start to question the investigation, and it would force Chief Wagner to dig deeper. ”
“Did it?”
He shook his head.
“Damn.” I didn’t blame the chief. He had his killer and there was no need to chase down improbable leads. Especially when the daughter of the victim called from Colorado every other day, begging for justice.
“You should go back and read through all the papers,” Isaiah suggested.
“I already did,” I said with a sigh. “It still feels like I’m missing big chunks of what happened. Do you know anything else?”
“That’s it.” He shook his head. “I’ve been on the outside too. I know you’re not sure how to deal with him yet, but the person with the most information is Draven.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. I wasn’t ready for another lengthy discussion with him yet. First, I’d start with Bryce and see if she knew more than what had been printed. “What do you think will happen if Draven goes to prison?”
Or when?
My entire life I hadn’t known my father. I’d just found him and was . . . adjusting. If he was successfully framed for Mom’s murder, he’d disappear again.
“Dash won’t let this go,” Isaiah said. “He won’t stop until he finds the real killer.”
“How?”
Isaiah sighed. “I don’t know, doll.”
Doll. There was no hesitation in the word. It was becoming habit—one that chased away a sliver of the tension between us. Maybe after enough dolls, we’d chip away all the awkwardness and find a friendship underneath.
This would be easier if we were friends.
“Dash is determined,” he said. “Bryce, Emmett and Leo are too. They don’t want the real killer to go free, and now that they know he wasn’t the guy who died in the fire, they’ll push harder.”
I shivered at the mental image of the cabin on fire but pushed it aside. “Do they have any leads?”
“No idea. I’ve mostly stayed out of it. Except when . . . you know.”
When he’d rescued me and tied our fates together.
“We have to talk about it at some point. The cabin,” I whispered, glancing around the parking lot. I knew we were alone but felt the need to double check whenever the topic came up.
“Nothing to talk about.” His frame locked. “I killed a man.”
“And I started a fire.”
Two crimes that had bonded us forever. Though I wished they were reversed. Killing that man had taken a part of Isaiah’s soul. It would haunt him along with the other demons torturing his heart.
“I need to go to the grocery store,” I said, changing the subject.
“I’ll follow you.”
I pushed off the trunk, going to my door, but paused before opening it. “Would you help me?”
“At the store?”
“No. With something else.”
I wanted to set my ghosts free. I wanted to set us free and give Isaiah the chance to find a woman he would kiss out of love, not obligation. A woman who would help him battle those demons and bring some light into his life.
He deserved freedom. We all did.
“What?” he asked.
“I want to find the man who killed my mother.”
“Okay. But we might never find out,” he warned.
“I know. But I have to try.”