Page 81 of The Truth You Told

“You’ve both read mine,” Max countered.

“We’re your legal guardians,” Shay said, exasperated. “Please tell me I don’t have to explain the difference.”

Max smirked. “No, but it still makes me feel less guilty about it.” She searched among her paper pile and pulled out a manila folder. “The good stuff is on page seven. The psychological evaluation.”

Shay refused to take it, so Max shrugged, opened it herself, and started reading out loud.

“‘Given his inability to control his violent impulses, further counseling is recommended,’” Max said.

“That evaluation was given when he was eight years old,” Shay countered. “Eight-year-olds have a hard time controlling any of their impulses. And Beau wasn’t just any eight-year-old.”

“Fine, I’m not going to convince you,” Max said. “I had to try, though.”

“Why? You don’t want me to tell Callum.”

Max rolled her eyes again. God, she was so young. “No. So that we could stage an intervention.”

“For our brother, who you think is a serial killer,” Shay said, an edge of amused hysteria creeping into her voice. “Hey, Beau, want to stop torturing and violently killing girls? Pleaseandthank you.”

“Well, I didn’t think that far ahead,” Max admitted.

“Yeah, you just thought far enough ahead that you snuck out, bought a bus ticket, and crossed the country because Beau’s grandfather liked ciphers.” No matter what Max said, Shay could be a little mean, too. “Why now?”

“Three days ago he came home late,” Max said, eyes narrowed like she wanted to slap back but also wanted to actually give a real answer, too. “I was waiting for him.”

“Oh, Max,” Shay whispered. “If he actually was dangerous, that was incredibly risky.”

“I don’t think he would hurt me.”

“People are always certain of that right up until they get hit,” Shay countered.

“Not me,” Max said, the hardness that defined her on full display. “I always knew ...he... would hurt me. I just couldn’t get away from him.”

“Until Beau,” Shay said softly. You killed for family. You hid the body.

How could Max think Beau was anything but an old knight born into a too-modern era, trying to protect those he loved? An old knightwho’d had only so-so success trusting the judicial system. Shay didn’t condone his actions, of course. But she would never, ever regret that Max’s father was dead. She couldn’t.

“I don’t want him arrested,” Max said, sounding defensive for the first time. “That’s why I came here instead of the cops.”

“Okay,” Shay soothed her. “You were waiting for him.”

“I asked him where he’d been. He told me it was none of my business,” she said.

“Well, that was fair.” They tried to treat Max with respect, but they were the adults in the house, and that meant something even if it didn’t always seem that way.

“Technically, he’s in charge of me, so it was my business,” Max pointed out. “I pushed. He kept saying no. Then I saw the blood.”

Oh, Beau.Shay just shook her head, though. “He could have gotten that anywhere.”

“It was on his shirt. Just a few spots, but nothing he’d get while shaving,” Max said. “And it wasn’t from a patient, because I asked, and he didn’t think quickly enough to lie.”

That was hardly real evidence, not without a DNA test on the blood. It could very easily be his.

“What did he say?”

“That it was none of my business,” Max said again. “And when I asked for the fiftieth time, he said he was helping out after a bar fight. Some guy broke his nose while slipping on beer, and Beau got in the splash zone and helped him plug up the blood.”

“Then that’s what happened,” Shay said with finality. It was almost believable. Beau would have, of course, helped in that situation, his medical instincts kicking in.

---