Chapter Twelve
A ir funneled into Isla’s lungs and her stomach rippled as if punched. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. God, that was so eerily similar…it just couldn’t have been what she’d heard.
Forcing herself to exhale and breathe, she glanced between both men, noting how they were practically the spitting image of each other, except one was older with short, salt and pepper hair and years of sun and worry weathering his face.
“That’s right.” Sinjin’s gaze was back on his father, animosity stiffening his body and tightening his features. “You wasted a trip. Go back to El Paso.”
Before the man could reply, Sinjin shut the door.
Isla gasped.
“Jesus, Sinjin.” She rushed to follow him as he strode through the room. “Hang on,” she said, scurrying to stand in front of him and set a hand on his chest. “What’s going on? What was that about?”
“I think he articulated it well.”
Her stomach pitched, and she swallowed back her emotions. “Your mother was murdered too?”
The knowing look in his eyes sent another ripple through her stomach.
He knew …
He blew out a breath and nodded. “Yes.”
“You know about my mother,” she stated rather than asked.
“Yes,” he replied again.
She stiffened, unsure how she felt. “And you never said anything?”
He lifted a hand to brush her cheek with his thumb. “I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.”
“But you already did.”
He removed his touch and shook his head. “One of the guys mentioned it was a shooting. That’s all I know.”
“Oh.”
Again, she wasn’t sure how she felt. Was it out of respect that he hadn’t dug deeper? Or did he just not care?
“You want to talk about what just happened? It might help,” she said, but already knew the answer by the way his expression had closed.
“No,” he muttered, moving past her to his room, where he shucked his shirt and pants to pull on the clean clothes he’d dug out of his closet. “Look, I’m sorry, but it’s getting late. I need to head into work.”
“Oh,” she said again, sounding like a broken record. “I thought we had the morning.”
Which was selfish of her, but she’d hoped he’d be around when she worked on her assessments. The first half would be easy. Summarizing the second half, not so much.
“Sorry,” he said, shoving his feet into socks then boots, before walking over to her. “I kind of left the garage in a hurry last night, so I have things to take care of that I’m responsible for.”
Although she knew they needed to talk— he needed to talk—she decided to give him some time to come to that conclusion on his own.
She nodded. “No worries.”
He lifted a finger and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know you have assessments to work on and it will dredge up yesterday,” he said. “If you need me, text me.”
Warmth washed away the chill that had settled in her chest. “Thanks.”
His concern righted her world a little. But despite his relaxed posture, he still seemed a little off.
She ran a hand up his chest. “Are you okay?”
Smiling, he caught her hand and brushed her fingers with his lips. “Yes. I’m all right.” He released her hand, kissed her forehead, then stepped back. “I’ll talk to you later. Lock up when you go.”
He patted Loki on the head and then walked out, leaving her alone in his cottage.
That man was a damn sight far from all right.
She quickly slipped on her thong and sandals, grabbed her purse, and rushed out the door, being sure to lock it as instructed. A quick trip to her house to feed her dog while she changed took only a few minutes. Then she was out the door with Loki on a leash, while she walked the streets, hoping to catch sight of the old Jeep that she’d spotted in Sinjin’s driveway when he’d talked to his dad.
She shivered when she recalled the cold shoulder he’d given the poor guy.
God, he didn’t know how lucky he was to have a father who cared about him.
After nearly an hour of checking out the nearby parking lots of all the cafés and restaurants within walking distance, her persistence paid off. She found the man walking from Rose’s Diner toward his Jeep.
“Excuse me, Mr. Acothley,” she said, closing the last few feet to catch him as he was about to open his door.
He glanced at her then recognition hit. “You were with my son.”
She nodded. “Yes, hi, I’m Isla Watts.” She held out her hand and Loki took that as a sign it was okay to sniff the man’s jeans. “Sorry, he’s still a pup. I’m trying to train him. Your son is helping me with that.”
After shaking her hand, he bent down to give Loki’s neck a two-handed rub before standing. “Is that right?”
“Yes. He’s been a big help.” In lots of ways, and she worked to keep her stupid face from flushing. “He’s a good friend. That’s why I found his treatment of you to be out of character.”
The man fell silent, gazing unseeingly over her shoulder.
She shifted slightly to block his view. “Can you tell me what happened?”
He studied her a moment, then shook his head. “You’ll have to ask him.”
Isla exhaled and momentarily closed her eyes before meeting his gaze. “Think we both know he isn’t going to tell me.”
“I hope we’re wrong,” he said, opening his door.
She stepped closer. “Is there anything I can do to change it?”
“Sorry, miss. I fear not.” He shook his head, sadness drawing his features down. “Hard to change the mind of a stubborn man that’s been made up for nearly two decades.”
“But I’d like to try.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “I hope my son realizes how lucky he is and doesn’t push you away, too.”
With that, the man got in his vehicle and drove out of sight.
The thought of Sinjin pushing her away was the reason she hadn’t pressed the issue that morning. But deep down, Isla knew she couldn’t let this drop. The father and son had lived through something horrific, and it had split them apart.
But unlike her and her dad, these two had a chance to fix things.
In order to do that, though, she needed to know a few details, and since Sinjin wouldn’t talk, she was going to have to go to Plan B. The last thing she wanted was to go behind his back, but she couldn’t help him without at least a brief summarization like she did for clinicals.
Mind made up, she headed home. Isla knew she’d meet with the same, “You’ll have to ask Sinjin,” response if she tried to question any of the men at ESI. And that was if they even knew. Plus, Sinjin was there, anyway.
Besides, she had the suspicion not all of them knew, which meant questioning her cousin’s husband was a no-go too.
Despite the fact those two didn’t see eye to eye, she was certain Gabe wouldn’t break that confidence either.
Truth be told, she didn’t want to put any of them in that position.
So, with a slight tug on Loki’s leash, she headed back to her cottage. It was time to get her dog out of the harsh sun, and for her to get on the internet.
After adding fresh water to Loki’s bowl, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and settled down on a stool at her kitchen island where her laptop sat waiting for her to get to her summarizations. This time, though, she was going to read them, not write them.
Loki lumbered to his bed by the window, circled it twice then plopped down with a groan. He closed his eyes and sighed. A few seconds later, he started to snore.
She chuckled softly. That walk and the heat had tired him out.
While her computer booted up, she did some quick calculations in her head to figure out a timeframe for the murder. Her stomach bunched. She still couldn’t believe Sinjin was also a surviving child of a murder victim.
God, she’d never wish that on anyone.
Blinking back tears, she sucked down some water then cleared her throat and started her search.
Mr. Acothley had told her his son had had his mind made up for nearly two decades, so she subtracted twenty years off the current year and typed that in, along with their last name, murder, and El Paso.
She immediately got a hit. The photo of a beautiful woman smiling with warmth in her brown eyes and a dimple in her cheek sucked a gasp of surprise from Isla. Her hair was only a medium brown, not as dark as Sinjin’s, and she didn’t have the high cheekbones or gorgeous tint to her skin. Evangeline St. John Acothley wasn’t of Native American descent.
Assuming that had been foolish on Isla’s part. And now that she’d seen both his father and this photo of his mother, she could see that he wasn’t exactly the spitting image of his dad. Sinjin’s nose and face were thinner, like his mother’s, and his hair was wavy like hers too.
Isla forced herself to read the article. She was a hospice nurse, attacked while walking to her car after work, discovered by her fourteen-year-old son near her car.
“Oh my God! Sinjin…” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand as tears immediately filled her eyes and spilled down her face.
No wonder he was so closed off. So scarred.
His mother was the sixth and last victim of the Nightingale serial killer. There had been one more attack, but someone had heard the woman’s screams in an alley next to a clinic where the woman worked and had intervened and called the police.
Isla was shaking by the time she finished reading the first article and that was enough, deciding there was no need to read more. She didn’t need to know what the monster had done to his victims before murdering them, nor any detail of his life. He didn’t matter.
Her gaze fell to the woman’s pretty face.
Evangeline was who mattered. She’d been ripped from the life of her family, and that was something Isla understood all too well.
Isla’s stomach rolled and unshed tears heated her throat as she fought to keep them at bay.
The knob on her door began to twist.
“Hey, Isla,” Sinjin said, knocking on her door as it swung open, a practice they’d fallen into when entering each other’s cottages the past few weeks.
She jumped and nearly fell off her stool, then quickly slammed her laptop shut. Loki decided to pop an eye open, then stretched and settled back down to sleep.
“What’s going on?” Sinjin asked, suddenly still. Too still.
Before she could find her composure and reply, he was already at the island, opening her laptop.
His inhale shook right through her.
“I-I can explain,” she said, touching his arm.
He stiffened and stepped back. “No need. I can see for myself that you couldn’t just let things alone.”
“Of course not. I care about you.”
He snorted. “That’s why you’re going behind my back to dig into my past.”
“You left me no choice,” she said. “You wouldn’t tell me when I asked, and neither would your dad.”
“What?” He whipped around so quickly that she plowed right into him. His fingers curled around her upper arms as he drew back. “You went after my father?”
“I saw him when I had Loki out for a walk…to look for him.” She wouldn’t lie to him. “I thought he might still be around, so I checked at all the restaurants.”
“That was very clever of you.”
“Look, Sinjin. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to find out this way. I just want to help.”
“You can help by leaving it alone,” he muttered as he walked right out of her house.
Isla was still shaking and a bit uncertain if he’d said “it” or “me”. But she raced after him, shutting her door to keep Loki in, then marched straight to Sinjin’s place and opened the door without knocking.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
He had his back to her. It was stiff, rigid. So rigid, it looked like he was about to snap in half. He inhaled then exhaled slowly before he turned around.
His anger had disappeared, but his eyes didn’t quite have the life in them that she’d grown to love. “It’s been a crazy couple of days.”
She nodded, wanting to move closer but afraid he’d turn away, so she remained where she was…near the coffee table, where he’d done some amazing things to her, and he’d admitted that he’d trusted her.
And her actions today just jeopardized that trust. Hell, she’d be lucky if she hadn’t killed it altogether.
But still, she wasn’t sorry. How could she be, when she had what was best for him in mind?
“I can’t leave it or you alone,” she said, quietly. “Over the past few weeks, you’ve become more to me than my stress reliever, Sinjin. You’re my friend. And a good one, at that. One that I just discovered I have a hell of a lot more in common with than I’d realized, and I wish to God we didn’t have that in common. But we do.”
He remained quiet, his jaw working as if he was clenching his teeth to keep from saying something he might regret.
“I understand the darkness,” she said, taking a few steps closer. “If you dwell in there it’ll consume you.”
“Too late,” he ground out. “Look, you should go. I’m not the best company right now. I need time.”
She nodded, throat heating, eyes blurring. But then she lifted her chin. “I’ll go, but not until I say what I came to say about your father.”
“Jesus, Isla.” He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. “I’m really trying.”
“I know,” she said, watching the vein pulse violently in his neck. “So am I. I’m trying to point out that you might have your dad all wrong. You think he’s a coward for not going after the man who murdered your mother.”
“Yes. Growing up, it was always an eye for an eye. He drilled that into me, Isla—over and over—and yet, Mom died, and he hid behind his badge, claiming it was against the law to take out the bastard who gutted my mother…his wife.”
She winced at his words and the venom with which he’d delivered them.
“What happened to the man who killed your mother?” he asked.
She frowned. “You don’t know?”
Earlier, she’d gotten the impression that he’d known about the shooting, but now his attitude made sense.
“No.” He shook his head. “Carter had mentioned she’d been killed in a mall shooting, and unlike you, I left it at that and didn’t dig into it. I was letting it for you to tell or not tell me. Either way, it was your choice.”
Her stomach clenched at the silent blow his words delivered. Yeah, she’d hurt him. Betrayed him. But it had been necessary. She just hoped he understood that after he heard what she was about to say and had some time to think.
She cleared her throat. “I said I was sorry. I didn’t do it to hurt you, I did it to help you.” She ignored his snort and lifted her chin. “Did you ever think your dad did you a favor?”
“Fuck, no.”
“Well, he did. Think about it, Sinjin. You were fourteen, and you said you had a sister, so I’m guessing she was young, too. What would’ve happened to the two of you had your father done what you wanted him to do? Huh? If he was convicted of premeditated murder—or manslaughter at the very least—I doubt he would’ve been given a slap on the wrist. Did you have any other relatives?”
He shook his head.
“Then I’m guessing you would’ve gone into the system and most likely been split up.”
He frowned at that possibility.
“So, your father’s in prison, possibly on death row, or even shanked inside if others discovered he was a cop. Tell me, would an eye for an eye have been worth it?”
Sinjin blinked and his expression grew pensive.
“No, Sinjin. The answer is no. Trust me. What your dad did took guts. I mean, real guts to ignore his needs and wants and put yours and your sister’s over his own.” By this time, Isla was shaking so badly that she leaned against the back of the couch to steady herself. “Don’t you see, your father put you first…his children first…and didn’t end up in prison or dead. He was around for you…it’s just so sad that you didn’t see that back then and you don’t see that now.”
With her throat too tight and heated, she turned and walked back out his door, having said mostly everything she’d wanted him to hear. Hopefully, by the time he digested her tirade, he’d forgive his father. It would all be worth it if she could help patch up his family. She just prayed it wasn’t at the cost of their friendship.