Page 56 of Tainted Truth

Rio’s hand wipes a tear on my cheek that I didn’t know was there. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of here.”

I give him a half-hearted smile, not entirely sure I believe him. Turning back to Asher, I continue. “It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he’d buy me purple hyacinths. He always said his flower deserved flowers and that purple hyacinths showed how sorry he was. But the next day, the flowers were always ripped to shreds.” I place the photo back on the table and cross my arms.

“That’s not creepy,” Zane murmurs sarcastically.

Asher gathers the photos and places them back in the file. “Do you know where he’d buy the hyacinths?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.” I fidget with my hands in my lap. “What were their names?”

“Angel . . .” Zane rests a hand on my shoulder.

“I need to know.”

Asher shakes his head and gives me a pitying look. “I’m not telling you their names; it won’t help anything.”

My body goes numb. “I feel responsible. If I had just gone back to him when he texted me the first time, maybe those women would still be alive.”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Mama. It’s not your fault. There’s no way you could have known. He might have still done it even if you stayed.” Rio grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze.

They’re too kind—they’ll make every excuse to make me feel better. But how can I not feel responsible? He’s doing all of this because of me, because I won’t go with him.

“But that’s just it. I should have known. I should have! Especially after I saw . . .”

Asher leans forward in his chair. “Saw what?”

I bite my lip and glance to the side.

Asher uses an index finger to guide my chin back to him. His eyes are soft and distressed. “After you saw what, Princess?”

“After I saw him kill someone.”

CHAPTER 23

SPENCER, SEVEN YEARS AGO

Iwalk across the cold, checkered tile floor. Even wearing shoes doesn’t keep the cold from seeping into my bones. It’s everywhere—it bleeds from the walls. No matter how many sweaters or socks I wear, it doesn’t matter, I always have chills. They constantly run up my spine and make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

He likes to keep the house at a brisk sixty-nine degrees, which should be perfect for Texas summers, but in this house, it keeps me on edge. I can’t explain why.

I have the perfect life. The perfect fiancé, the perfect house, the perfect job.

Maybe it’s the little things Anthony says here and there. He made a comment about watching what I eat the other day and has been more hands-on about what I wear when we go out. I’ve been with him for just over four years; he’s never cared about that kind of thing until I moved in six months ago. That’s when things changed. He got more cagey, more picky. I’m pretty sure it’s because he has an issue with one of his clients. He makes a lot of people a lot of money. Dealing with hundreds of thousands, and sometimes millions of dollars would stress out anyone.

I’ve heard him yelling more and more in his home office lately—like now.

I know he’s stressed, and he always tells me I’m his ray of sunshine. So tonight, I’m determined to be his sunshine and make his life a little brighter. I’m making his favorite meal—homemade lasagna with breadsticks and salad. And for dessert, another favorite, peach cobbler. I always cooked for myself and Mom growing up, so cooking dinners when I moved in was no big deal.

Making my way up to the second floor, his voice booms down the staircase.

“You fucked up! You fucked up so bad there’s no coming back from this!”

Anthony has a voice that naturally carries. I tense when he raises his voice, but there’s nothing he can do about that. He can’t help that he’s so loud.

He’s ruthless at work which just makes him better at his job. He does it all for me, to provide for me. To give me the life I didn’t have with Mom. He even provides for her sometimes too. She needed help with her water bill last month and he paid it without question.

“I-I’m sorry Mr. Cole. I can fix it. The shipment can be salvaged.” The fear in the man’s voice is unmistakable. My own fear mixes with his as my muscles tense in my back, but I continue to push myself forward.

Wait . . . shipment? But Anthony is in stock trading. Maybe he’s helping a client with something?

---