Page 45 of Sins of the Father

I know. The thought terrifies me.

My apartment feelsdifferent when I return. Smaller. Temporary. I spread my father's evidence across the table—crime scene photos, financial records, witness statements. Seven years of my life reduced to paper and grief.

I pour whiskey into a tumbler. Dad's favorite brand. The one thing I kept from his house after the police released it.

The crime scene photo stares up at me. Dad slumped over his desk, blood pooling beneath him. Accounting papers scattered everywhere. The image that drove me to this moment.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I whisper to the photo. "I fell for his son."

The whiskey burns down my throat. I pour another.

My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.

You have something that belongs to me

Collins.It has to be.

I grab my gun from the bedroom, check the clip. Full. Safety off. I place it on the table beside the evidence.

Another text.

We should talk. Before others get hurt.

I don't respond. Collins killed my father to hide his theft. Now he knows I have proof.

The apartment door's locks seem inadequate. Three deadbolts and a chain won't stop a determined killer. I check the windows—fire escape access, good sight lines to the street.

My phone rings. Unknown number.

"Orla Nolan," I answer.

"The accountant's daughter." Collins' voice sounds exactly as I imagined—smooth, cultured, deadly. "You've caused considerable trouble."

"Not as much as you will."

He laughs. "I doubt that. You're alone now. No Kavanagh protection. No police backup."

"I have evidence."

"Which dies with you."

The line goes dead.

I grab the evidence files, stuff them into a bag. Staying here means death. I need somewhere safe until?—

A knock at my door. Three sharp raps.

I raise my gun, approach the peephole. The hallway appears empty.

Another knock. "Orla. It's me."

Cillian's voice.

I lower the gun, open the locks. He stands in the doorway, fury and something else written across his features.

"How did you find me?" I ask.

"Phone tracker. Simple surveillance." He enters without invitation, closing the door behind him. "Expected anything less?"

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