Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Imogene
“What the hell is going on here?”
I snapped my head up, momentarily disoriented as I took in my surroundings with bleary eyes.
The sun had begun to set, casting a dim orange glow over the living room. How long had I been going through this box of memories? Long enough for Melanie to not only show up at my townhouse, but also let herself in.
Since getting home, I’d been consumed with going through every article and report I’d saved about Samuel’s death. Then I got the great idea to see if there had been any recent articles. As expected, there weren’t any, apart from the obligatory public relations stories about the annual golf tournament Liam hosted in honor of his murdered friend — the most recent one being last weekend.
Somewhere along the way, I switched gears and began researching how long fingerprints could last on objects, specifically glass. Unfortunately, I didn’t find anything definitive. The general consensus was that it all depended on the environment and what elements it had been exposed to. Considering the glass was found in a temperature-controlled environment with low humidity and wasn’t exposed to any outdoor elements, it was entirely possible the prints could have been from before Samuel died.
But why was it left on the coffee table beside the glass Alton had been drinking out of? Wasn’t that suspicious?
Or was I just grasping at straws again? Holding on to the tiniest sliver of hope that Samuel was still alive when all rationale told me he was gone?
“Is there a reason you’re going through all of this?”
“Mel, I… What are you doing here?” I pulled myself to my feet, stretching my neck from side to side, my muscles sore from spending the past few hours hunched over. “Weren’t you going to check on Liam?” I asked, trying to divert her attention away from the papers scattered on the coffee table and floor.
“I did. Like I thought you were, too.”
“Shit.” I ran a hand over my face. “I meant to call, but I got…distracted.”
“Apparently,” she snipped back with an exaggerated roll of her eyes as she walked into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine.
Once she took a sip, she leaned against the island, crossing a single arm in front of her stomach. It was obvious she came straight from work. Her tall and slender frame was dressed in a crisp, white button-down shirt tucked into a pencil skirt, her dark hair falling in waves down to her mid-back. A pair of animal print heels completed the look. It was a stark contrast to my current appearance of yoga pants and a t-shirt, my blonde hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun.
“Want to tell me why you’re surrounded by articles about Samuel?” Her expression softened as she moved toward me. “I thought you were past this.”
I parted my lips, searching my brain for a way to explain this without sounding like I was losing my mind.
“Not that you need to forget him entirely,” she added quickly. “I’m not saying that. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself, Ginny. I get that this time of year is hard, since it’s almost the fifth anniversary of his death. I thought you were only going to look forward. Not backward. Thought you were going to stop clinging to a ghost.”
“I know.” I released a long breath. “I just…” I licked my lips, then scrunched my brows. “Did Liam say anything when you saw him?”
She gave me a quizzical look. “Liam?”
“Did he mention anything about Alton’s cabin?”
“What specifically? Because when I was over there, Liam wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood.”
I lowered myself onto the couch, moving stacks of papers out of the way so she could join me. Once she did, I faced her.
“I went over his place right after I got off the phone with you.”
“His housekeeper told me, but said you weren’t there for more than five minutes and that you seemed upset when you left. She thought it was because of Alton.” She snorted a laugh. “I had my doubts about that. Not that you’re a heartless bitch, but you were never too close to Alton.And since it appears you’ve spent the past few hours taking a trip down memory lane…” She waved at the papers in front of me, “I have a feeling it’s something else.” She leaned closer, her expression awash with sincerity. “What’s going on, Gin?”
“I overheard Liam and James talking,” I admitted with a sigh. “They sounded…anxious. At least Liam did. Apparently, the police discovered two glasses on Alton’s coffee table they found suspicious, considering Alton had allegedly been alone all day.”
“Do they think he was murdered?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then—”
“The second glass had Samuel’s fingerprints on it,” I blurted out.
She straightened, blinking several slow blinks as she processed this information. Based on her silence, she was just as stunned to learn about this as me.
“And you…what?” She narrowed her gaze. “Think he’s still alive?”
“I don’t know what to think,” I answered honestly. “One minute, I look at all the overwhelming evidence that says Samuel died, as well as the fact that it’s not completely impossible to find fingerprints on a glass after five years under the right conditions. Trust me. I’ve learned more about fingerprints in the past few hours than I ever thought possible.”
“And the next?” she prodded.
I pinched my lips together, fighting against the emotions threatening to overwhelm me once more. “The next, I still hold on to a tiny sliver of hope that he might still be alive,” I squeaked out.
She nodded, peering into the distance as she sipped her wine. “Did you ask Liam and James about it?” She turned her gaze back to mine.
“I never spoke to them. After overhearing them mention Samuel’s fingerprints being found at Alton’s cabin, I sort of freaked. So I left and came here.” I chewed on my bottom lip, stealing a glance her way before finally mustering the courage to ask, “Do you think it’s suspicious?”
She gave me a quizzical look. “What?”
“The glass. What are the chances that Alton would kill himself and, when the police investigate, they find Samuel’s fingerprints on a glass?”
She pushed out a long sigh and placed her hand over mine. “You know I love you. And you know how much I adored Samuel. But like you just said, there are mountains upon mountains of evidence supporting his death. Hell, I’m looking at mountains upon mountains of evidence supporting his death.” She gestured at the newspaper clippings, investigative reports, and photographs littering my living room.
“Is finding that particular glass suspicious? Maybe. Or perhaps it’s just a coincidence. In the extremely rare and improbable event Samuel did survive and is still alive, where has he been all these years? Not to mention, he loved you, Imogene. No way would he just disappear from your life without an explanation. As much as it sucks, Samuel was shot and killed. Any fingerprints found on a glass have to be from before he died. It makes more sense than the alternative that Samuel’s been alive all this time and hasn’t contacted you. Don’t you think?”
I pushed out a defeated breath, briefly closing my eyes as I allowed my best friend to wrap an arm around me.
“You’re right,” I admitted, unable to deny all the valid points she made. Things I hadn’t really considered until she brought them up.
“I usually am,” she said with a wink before squeezing me tighter.
It was moments like these I was grateful to have someone like Melanie to talk some sense into me. Bring me back down to reality. Remind me what was possible and what wasn’t.
And Samuel still being alive and never reaching out?
That was impossible.
At least that was what I needed to keep telling myself.