Page 27 of Killing Me Softly

“No one knows who brought the flowers. I’ve checked with the staff. The only person who visited mum while I was away was my aunt. I called her, no answer. To be expected. It’s late. But shenevergives flowers. And her name isn’t Jessica! My sister’s is, but she’s lying in the same place she’s been for the past twenty-seven fucking years.” Kenny curled his hands around the back of the soft chair, knuckles blanching. “In thefuckingground.”

“Fuck.” Jack searched the room. “I need a bag. Gloves.Shit. I can analyse this for prints but, fuck Kenny, how many people have handled this? Been in here?”

“Tons! That’s my point. I need this room closed off. No one else coming in. No cleaning it.” He flapped his hand. “Although it’s been cleaned to within an inch of its life before I got here. Mum’s already moved to the private room, ready to be collected by the funeral director.”

“Then we won’t find much.”

“But an autopsy will.” Kenny paced to the far side of the room, where a small dresser stood, and he fingered the framed photo resting on top. It was old, the colours faded, but it showed a much younger Kenny with his arm slung around his sister’s shoulders. They were both smiling, carefree in a way Kenny hadn’t felt in years. He almost couldn’t remember a time when he’d not known about the darkness lurking around every corner.

The sight of it broke him.

His hand trembled as he picked up the frame. The detachment he’d clung to crumbled even more when he turned back to Jack. “Someone killed my mother, Jack. I know it. Ifeelit. And if I don’t prove it, if I don’t dosomething, then whoever did this is going to walk away.”

“You want to give me a list of people who have a vendetta against you?”

“It’ll be longer than the list you have in your database.”

“I know. But they’re roses. And they’ve used Jessica. So we know the starting point.”

Kenny stared at him.

“Aaron?”

Frustration flared and Kenny looked away, raking two hands through his hair. “I just dropped him off. He’s been withmeall these five days in Barcelona.”

“I’m not bringing him up because I suspect him, for Christ’s sake!” Jack cut him off. “I’m asking because, once again, we’ll be digging into his past. And if you can’t see the connection here, you’re not thinking straight.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re fucking the Howells’son, Kenny!”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Reduce him to just that.”

Jack inhaled sharply. Held his gaze. And Kenny wanted to shrivel up under it. The air hung heavy with unspoken truths and old wounds, and Jack rubbed his forehead as if trying to erase the knowledge only he could fully understand. Which was that Kenny had fallen in love with Aaron. And when Kenny loved someone, he’d use everything he had to keep them safe. In all the ways he couldn’t for Jessica. Or, now, his mum.

“Jesus, Kenny.”

“Leave Aaron out of this.”

“HowcanI?”

“Because he knows nothing. He’s been with me. He doesn’t need to be dragged into all this.”

“You can’t keep him shielded forever.”

“Watchme!”

“He deserves to know.”

“He deservespeace. To get on with his own fucking life. Complete his degree. To become something other than what you all think he is, which is nothing but a Howell.”

“But this could beabouthim.”

Kenny glared at him, grinding his teeth with unrelenting anger.

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