Chapter 11 #2
“Noted. But just because you know what goes on in my flat doesn’t mean you have any idea what goes on in here,” Ethan said, tapping his chest. “There are plenty of things you don’t know about me.”
“Like what?”
He smirked. “Nice try.”
“Come on. I won’t tell anyone,” I wheedled, my curiosity sparked.
He hesitated and looked out of the window. The rain had grown heavier, blurring the world on the other side of the glass. “OK. I’ll tell you something about me that you don’t know, but first you have to answer a question.”
“Deal,” I agreed, my tongue loosened by the alcohol.
“Why did you break into Rakesh’s office?”
I hadn’t expected that. I prayed that the darkness in the limousine was hiding the surprise on my face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I caught you red-handed.” Ethan’s eyes were on me, pinning me down so there was no escape. “Besides, I ran into Rakesh after our little encounter and spoke to him. He said he’s never given you any admin tasks.”
I drew a deep breath and held it in my lungs for a few seconds. “OK, that was a lie,” I admitted with a sigh. “But it’s hardly breaking and entering if the door is open.”
“But it is theft if you take something,” Ethan retorted. I hated how steady and convincing his voice sounded, while I could barely disguise the tremor in mine. “What do you need the Pearl Gala guest list for?”
Damn. I’d hoped he hadn’t recognised the list in the short time he’d had it, but he was clearly more perceptive than I’d given him credit for. I weighed my options, but with Ethan’s piercing gaze drilling into me, it was hard to think straight.
“I went to the gala with Kate, and . . . ,” I stammered, “. . . and there was this really cute guy. I was hoping I could use the guest list to track him down.”
Ethan arched an eyebrow in challenge. “What did he look like?”
“He was blond, slim, dark eyes.”
I had no idea who I was describing, but I made sure my invention was the antithesis of Ethan.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You’re not talking about James Asterdam, are you?”
“Maybe . . .”
“He’s not your type.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I’m your type.” The certainty in his voice left no room for argument.
Ethan knew the truth. I knew the truth. The universe knew the truth.
And above all, my body knew the truth. That became even clearer when Ethan leant closer and lowered his voice, making the fine hairs on my arms stand on end, almost as though they were reaching towards him.
“What do you really want the list for?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Either you tell me, or I’ll go to Rakesh.”
Fuck. “Why does it matter so much to you?”
“Why does it matter so much to you?”
Ethan was persistent, and he clearly wouldn’t let it drop.
If I didn’t tell him the truth, he’d go to Rakesh about my break-in.
I wouldn’t just lose my job—I could also forget about my investigation.
I would never again get this close to having the information I needed.
But if I told Ethan I was trying to solve my sister’s murder, I risked him sabotaging my research.
Which would also put an end to my plan. No matter what I did, things weren’t looking good for me.
I cursed myself for having been so sloppy. Why hadn’t I been more careful?
“So what’s it going to be? Will you tell me the truth? Or will I rat you out?”
I could tell by Ethan’s expression that he meant it. His words were more than an empty threat: They were a promise. I knew what I had to do. If I wanted to stand a chance of solving the case, I had to trust him.
He sensed instantly that I’d made my decision, and he leant back in his seat, giving me space to breathe again. “So out with it. What do you need the list for?”
I played with the rings on my fingers nervously, weighing my options one last time. I didn’t want to make the wrong decision. But telling Ethan the truth was the only thing that made any sense in this situation. “I’m trying to find out who’s responsible for my sister’s death.”
He was startled. “I thought she died in a car accident?”
“Yeah, but the driver fled the scene. Whoever it was left Amy there to die alone. And the police can’t find them.”
“And you think you can?” Ethan’s voice betrayed the same doubts I felt myself, but I squared my shoulders. If I didn’t believe I would succeed, who would?
“I can at least try,” I insisted. “And unlike the police, I won’t be bribed.”
“What makes you think they were bribed?”
“It’s been two months since the accident, and there still isn’t a single suspect.
Forensics supposedly turned nothing up—no brake, paint, or tire marks; zero physical evidence of the car.
And apparently, there were no eyewitnesses either.
The CCTV footage from The Darlington, which should have captured the accident, is gone.
The police haven’t even questioned the footage going missing—they’re saying it’s a coincidence.
So either they’re the worst, laziest, most gullible investigators in the history of the Metropolitan Police Service, or someone gave them a financial incentive to look the other way. ”
It felt strangely good to finally say it out loud.
Until now, I hadn’t shared my thoughts with anyone.
I couldn’t talk to my parents about it. Their desire for justice and anger at the person who had taken Amy from us had so far been eclipsed by their grief.
And Kate and Rose, who’d had a front-row seat while I fell apart, would probably tell me to drop it for my own protection.
But I couldn’t do that, which was why I hadn’t told them about my suspicions—or my plan.
Ethan had listened intently without interrupting. When I finished, he looked at me. I had never seen him so serious. “That all sounds pretty suspicious.”
I nodded. “That’s why I thought I’d take matters into my own hands. I don’t want word of what I’m doing to get out, which is why I didn’t ask for the guest list—I just obtained it myself.” It sounded better than I stole it.
“So you think a guest at the Pearl Gala is responsible?”
“Yes. Whoever it was must have been not only rich enough to bribe the police but also influential enough to make the footage from The Darlington disappear between the time of the crash and when the police arrived.”
“How do you know the footage was already gone at the hotel? Maybe it went missing at the police station.”
“I was waiting with my parents near where the accident happened and heard someone from forensics tell his colleague there was no footage of the accident. That was less than an hour after it happened. The only explanation is that someone deleted it right after. The timing doesn’t add up otherwise.”
“And you think someone from The Darlington is behind it?”
“I obviously don’t know for sure, but my guess is that one of the guests caused the accident, freaked out, and fled the scene.
Then they contacted someone at the hotel and persuaded them to delete the CCTV footage.
They pulled the same trick with the lead investigator, Detective Carter, to make her call off her team. ”
“Have you talked to anyone else about your suspicion?”
I shook my head. “Only you.”
The limousine came to a halt, and the partition separating us from Wallace slid down. “We’re here,” he announced. I looked out the window to see we were already parked in front of my building. It was still raining, and lightning flashed in the distance above the city.
Wallace made a move to get out.
“Don’t,” Ethan said.
I assumed he didn’t want Wallace to get wet because of me, but to my surprise, Ethan stepped out himself.
Moments later, he was at my side of the car.
He opened the door for me, and when I got out, I found myself under an umbrella.
I had no idea where he’d conjured it from.
He signalled for Wallace to wait, and then we walked side by side to the sheltered doorway.
I dug the key out of my clutch, taking longer than usual as I scrambled to find the right words.
“You . . .”
“I hope . . .”
We spoke at the same time.
He gave a little grin. “You go first.”
I dropped my gaze, fixing on one of his coat buttons. It was easier to focus on that than on his searching gaze, which had the same effect on my heart as running a marathon would—not that I’d ever run one, but I imagined my pulse would be racing just as fast. “You won’t tell Rakesh, will you?”
“No. We had a deal. You tell me the truth; I keep quiet.”
A weight lifted from my chest. “Thank you. What were you going to say?”
“Only that I hope you find out who was responsible for your sister’s death. I’m not particularly close to my brothers, but the idea of one of them dying at the hands of a stranger and not knowing who did it . . .” He shook his head. “It’s unthinkable.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For the ride too.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“And for getting my coat back,” I added, stroking the rough fabric with the hand that wasn’t clutching my key. “That was nice of you.”
Ethan cupped an ear. “What was that?”
“You heard me.”
“So you admit I was right?”
“What about?”
“That I’m nicer to you than you are to me.”
He really was. At least tonight. “Maybe.”
“‘Maybe’ is a good enough start,” Ethan said with a crooked smile, before turning away and heading back to the car.
I stood rooted to the spot, waiting for the limousine to pull away, but it didn’t move. Seconds passed before I realised that Ethan and Wallace were waiting to make sure I got in safely. I unlocked the door and slipped inside. Only then did the car drive off.
When I’d gone to the club with Rose, I never would have guessed that the night would take such a turn. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. More than that, I didn’t know what to make of Ethan.
I was climbing the stairs to my flat, still trying to make sense of my thoughts, when it struck me: I had answered Ethan’s question, but he still hadn’t told me a thing about himself.