Page 35 of Killing Me Softly

“Right.”

“Maybe after dinner. I’ll tell her I got a warehouse job or something.”

“You’re good at lying.”

Aaron held his gaze. “Not the only one.”

Kenny said nothing.

“I’ve also got a shift at the shop tomorrow, so I’ll be there. And then, I guess, Monday…” was his twenty-first birthday and the first start to term. Back to normal. “I’ll be sat in your class.”

The tension thickened. Aaron braced himself as Kenny’s lips parted as though he was about to say something. Something that might shatter his heart like glass. But he stopped himself. And Aaron wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved. Not that he had time because, in one abrupt movement, Kenny stepped forward, closing the space between them, and cupped Aaron’s face to kiss him, as if he was trying to say everything he couldn’tput into words. When he pulled away, his hands lingered for a beat before he stumbled back.

Then his phone rang on the kitchen surface and Aaron glimpsed the screen before Kenny could cover it with his hand.Jack.

“I have to take this.” Kenny grabbed it and stalked out of the kitchen.

His harried footsteps rushing up the stairs had Aaron’s frustration bubbling, sharp and bitter, threatening to spill over. Hehatedthis. Why was it just when things were going somewhere, something had to ruin it? It was as if the world was hellbent on making him pay for everything. As though he didn’t deserve happiness. Was he forever destined to repent for who he was? And why would Kenny happily speak to DI Jack Bellend rather than to him?

He gripped the packet of spaghetti, anger spiking, and the fragile strands snapped in half with a loud, unsatisfying crack, breaking the pasta within the plastic.

Maybe Taylor was right.

The best thing hecoulddo was fuck off.

So he stalked to the hallway where Kenny’s muffled voice drifted faintly down the stairs. The words were indistinct, but the tone was sharp, frustrated. Aaron knew Kenny was dealing with more than he was letting on.

And Jack Bentley knew what it was.

Chapter nine

Little Boxes

Kenny staggered upstairs into his office, the door clicking shut behind him like the sealing of a tomb.

“Jack,” he said into the phone. “Tell me.”

“Got the preliminary investigation signed off. Pushed it through with the Chief Superintendent. Given the circumstances. Given that it’s you. But mostly because I examined the body myself.”

Dread coiled in Kenny’s gut.“And?”

“Petechial haemorrhages. Tiny, pinpoint blood vessels ruptured in her eyes.”

“Fuck.”Kenny rubbed his temple as if that might block out the weight of inevitability crushing down on him. He’d known it. Felt it in his bones. But hearing it aloud cracked him wide open. Those ruptured blood vessels meant foul play. No doubt about it.

“They’re transporting your mum’s body now. Chong’s team is prioritising the post-mortem. She’s rearranged her caseload to give it her full attention—again,becauseit’s you.”

“Thank you.”

“Scene’s been processed by forensics, but like you said, it was wiped down. Clean job. We’re still running trace analysis, though. Never know what they might pick up.”

“And the statements?”

“Your initial report helped get the Chief on board. Appreciate you sending that through so quickly. It gave us leverage to act. PCs are on-site now, canvassing staff and residents, trying to establish a timeline. Uniformed officers will be dispatched to speak to your aunt soon. If you haven’t told her yet, it might be better coming from you.”

“No, I’ll do it. I’ll handle it.”

“Right. Once Chong gets us her findings, we can escalate this to a formal homicide investigation. Until then, it’s all hands on deck building the groundwork.”

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