35. Brogan
My brows arched as my attorney spoke, and I shook my head in disbelief.
“They’ve located both a knife and key in Layla’s apartment that had blood on it. The police are fairly certain the results will come back showing it as hers.”
“What they found and located… It can’t be. Whatever happened, I didn’t do it.”
“And that’ll be what I’ll have to prove. In the meantime, have you told me everything? I need to know what I'm up against.”
“I don't fucking know what you're up against. As I’ve said a million times, we had an argument that ended with the two of us going our separate ways. She went presumably to her place, and I went to mine. After that night, I hadn’t seen or heard from her again.”
“Do you have reason to believe anybody might’ve been after her? Or do you know of any reason someone might want to silence her?
I was growing agitated by the line of questioning. He was treating me like a fucking suspect already. Maybe I should’ve taken my father’s help earlier. As I remembered what it would’ve cost me, I knew I would’ve still thrown his offer back in his face.
“No. I don't know.”
“Mr. Sinclair, this was your fiancée. You have to know something about her. What was her day-to-day life like? Do you know of her comings, goings, or any people she’d interacted with regularly?”
“I’m telling the truth when I say that I don't.”
I wanted to tell him the whole entire relationship had been a fucking farce.
It’d been a sham, but that’d only look worse because I’d have to explain to the public, jury, and police about why I needed a fake fiancée.
If I were going to do all of that, I could’ve just provided my actual alibi.
I couldn’t do that to Declan, so I shook my head again.
“I don't know.”
“Well, I'm going down to the station to see what I can find out. You know, these allegations are very serious, so I want to make sure that any potential evidence is being processed correctly. Need to confirm everything's being done by the book. As I’m doing that, I need you to think long and hard. If there's anything you can remember, let me know. If we can present another viable suspect, it’s best that we do it in the beginning before they become too fixated on you.”
As the man rose to his feet, I shook his extended hand. “I'll think harder and let you know if anything comes to me, but I wouldn't hold your breath.”
“Just remember that now with evidence of foul play, it's no longer suspicion. You as her fiancé would stand the most to gain.”
“What would I really gain outside of my freedom? Breaking up with her would’ve been enough to accomplish that feat.”
“That’ll be for us to convince a jury if it comes down to that.
Although it might seem that you had nothing to gain from her death, the truth of the matter is that lovers often kill their lovers, whether a significant other, a husband, or a wife.
They're always prime suspect number one. Combine that with your lack of an alibi that can be corroborated, and it’s not looking good.
Thankfully, I get paid big dollars to try to minimize everything, so I’ll see what I can do.
But like I said, if you think of anything, let me know. ”
And with that, the attorney left my office.
I inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times, trying to calm myself down, but my hands were already shaking.
Shit had gotten real, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it hit the fan.
I had no idea how long those tests would take to run, so I had what could be minutes, hours, or days of freedom left to figure out what the hell was going on.
How and where did they find this so-called evidence?
After the news of her initial disappearance, I’d gone to her loft, and nothing had been out of place inside.
There were certainly no bloody pieces of evidence lying around.
Granted, I’d not done a thorough search of the place, but if someone were going to leave evidence of their deadly crime, why would they have hidden the weapon?
And if she had succumbed to a violent end, where in the hell was her corpse?
I’d wanted to call my attorney to ask him, but I remember being told before about other cases where the body had never been found, yet the accused had still been convicted, including a man in Florida who’d also gotten the death penalty.
Fuck!
I slammed my fist down onto my desk. The police had been scouring every inch of her fucking loft for months now and suddenly a bloody weapon just appeared out of nowhere. Either the detectives were more inept than I’d first given them credit for, or it was planted.
Something just didn't sit right. I raked a hand through my hair, immediately feeling the dampness in the longer strands. I was sweating, yet goosebumps rose on my flesh even beneath my suit. The walls I’d recently felt closing in around me had now tightened so fucking much that it ached to damn breathe.
My chest was not only pounding, but squeezing, and I could both hear and feel the blood rush in my ears.
It was a drum being continuously beaten.
My heart rate accelerated, and my vision even turned black and tunnel-like before I forced my eyes to close.
The ringing… the pounding… the roaring of something loud and train-like filled my head.
I wanted to cover it and scream for this nightmare to be over, but I suspected it was just beginning.
That realization did little to bring me any comfort.
When I heard a sound, my eyes darted open, and I realized the sound had been my knee hitting the bottom of my desk as it shook uncontrollably.
My eyes flickered around my office, and I swore I could hear the ticking of a time bomb as it ticked away methodically, although my thoughts were frantic.
Thankfully, I’d remembered my medication more now and had been taking it since the night Declan found me in my penthouse with a gun to my head.
But even all the pills in the world couldn’t slow down or stop this panic attack from happening.
Or was it a heart attack? I almost prayed for the latter.
I forced my hands to finally move as I loosened my tie, then unbuttoned the top button of my shirt, trying to get some air to my flushed skin.
I had no idea what to do to get myself out of what I knew was inevitable.
I’d never been in any kind of criminal trouble a day in my life, and now I’d be labeled a murderer, not that I truly cared what people thought about me.
I did care about Declan, though. I even cared about Enslee.
It was strange how she’d been in my life for such a short time, yet had managed to get under my skin despite the lies.
My relationship with Layla had also been a lie, but I’d never cared whether she’d lived or died.
It didn’t mean that I’d decided to kill her or anything, but her disappearance had been a blessing until now.
I quickly undid another button, then heard my cell phone ring. Seeing that it was one of my investigators, and the lead one that’d been tracing the money, I quickly answered.
“What do you have for me?” I barked out in a clipped tone.
“We’ve found the source of the money,” he answered, and just like that, the pressure sitting on my chest started to dissipate.
“You did? Who the fuck is it?”
This person would potentially have motive as well, because if she’d been blackmailing someone, they stood to gain more than me.
“Since it was a secret account, I can insinuate that maybe she’d been blackmailing this person, and they'd taken her out to silence her. I mean, it’s plausible.
” After all, the authorities actually believed I’d had something to do with it.
An upstanding citizen and pillar of my community who’d never been in trouble a day in my life.
Hell, I hadn’t even had a speeding ticket.
How could I go from law-abiding citizen to homicidal maniac?
Whoever was dealing with her in secret was likely being extorted, which would give them even more reason to look elsewhere. My attorney had been stressing that all we’d needed was reasonable doubt. I could feel my heart rate starting to steady back to normal.
“Well, who is it?”
“I’ll send you the information, but you might want to sit down when you see it.”
I didn't like the sound of that. “Okay. Text it to me right away.” A notification chime alerted me to the incoming message, and as soon as I opened the picture, the blood in my body froze immediately to stone. The name on the account…
“No, no, no, no,” I said.
“Yep, and it sure as fuck shocked me too. It was why I’d done extra digging on this one.
Due to the name used on the account, and the addition of a shell company, it took us a while to uncover their true identity, but we finally did.
” I was still silent. Numb, even, so he continued.
“I have other proof I’ll send you as well.
Is there anything else you need from me right now? ”
“No. Just send me everything you fucking have.”
“Will do,” I heard before the call disconnected. I stared back down at the message and shook my head as if doing so would erase the duplicitous bastard from it all.
“No, this can't be,” I said again before my cell phone slipped from my hand and landed on the floor. My heart rate that had started to steady now began to beat out of control once again. Pain pierced my chest, and I clutched at it, but it did little to ease the instant sting of betrayal and pain.
It became too much. I continued to clutch at my chest, this time with both hands as I rocked softly back and forth.
This was what it felt like to have your heart literally ripped from your chest. Nothing else in life had ever managed to kill me, but I suspected this news was different.
The room began to spin, or maybe it was just my head as I still tried to wrap my mind around everything I’d just seen.
I'd always wondered if someone out there actually had it out for me, and if so, would it have been enough to set me up. Now it became clear why I'd never wanted to even consider the possibility. I couldn’t put rose-colored glasses on when the truth was there in black and white.
Another chime brought additional images, and I pinched the bridge of my nose, hoping they’d contradict what was found earlier.
As I stared at each piece of documentation, I knew it was real.
I slammed my fist down on the desk, over and over until my bottled water eventually bounced off the top and onto the floor.
I didn't give a fuck. Additional papers also met the same fate, but I still didn't care.
Eventually, in one fell swoop, I swiped my arm across it, knocking everything left onto the floor.
Having heard the commotion, my secretary appeared in the doorway. Seconds later, her soft voice penetrated through my raging thoughts. “Mr. Sinclair, are you okay?”
I didn’t speak. Instead, I leveled her with a glance, and as if she saw my mania, hers widened briefly before she simply closed the door and disappeared. This news was the worst-case scenario, and even more terrible than the police finding that evidence.
All this time, I'd known it was somebody close to me, but this was unforgivable in my book. I had to think about what I’d do, but first, I needed to calm down before I did commit homicide, and one I’d deserve to be arrested for.
I scrolled through my contacts, stopping on the most familiar one. His voice had always been a balm to my soul. As soon as Declan answered, I cleared my throat. “I need to see you at my penthouse as soon as possible.”
“I’ll be there soon,” he said before I disconnected the call.
I rose to my feet and sidestepped the mess I’d made but left it as it was.
After I grabbed my cell phone and keys before exiting the office, I raced home, needing to have this interaction there, versus in a building full of people.
I couldn't promise myself I wouldn't throttle this person, especially because the pain cut me so deep.
All I wanted was for someone else to hurt the way I did in this moment.
I arrived home and barely had time to do anything more than pace. Back and forth… Back and forth… My nerves were completely shot, and I could do little to subdue the rage boiling in my blood. Soon, the elevator opened and I watched Declan walk in.
“I just saw the news, baby.”
I didn’t immediately respond to him, or even go over to embrace him.
Instead, I stared at him in disbelief. This was the man I’d loved beyond all fucking reason.
I felt my soul bleed in this moment, which I never would’ve thought possible until I saw his name on that documentation.
Declan assumed I’d just called him here because of the news report about the knife and the key.
God, what a fantastic fucking actor you’ve always been.
“That's not all I wanted to talk about,” I said to him as I found my voice. It sounded strained, yet controlled, while wholly foreign to my own ears. “If you remember, I had a team of investigators following the influx of cash that Layla received before her disappearance”
“What about the influx of cash?” he asked as he feigned innocence.
Playing stupid wasn't a strong suit of his, and his acting abilities were quickly diminishing the longer he tried to do it instead of coming clean and confessing his betrayal.
“Did they find who it was?” I nodded. “Who was it?” he asked, and that’s when I growled.
“It was you, Declan. How in the fuck could you do this to me?”