Page 85 of Betrayal

“I asked her.”Anna shrugged.

“It was still my fault.I should have anticipated, handled everything better.”

“Is that why you don’t drive?”

“Part of the reason.”

“Another secret or another secret shame?Next you’ll be ashamed of living and breathing.”Anna’s search had produced a few other interesting details.“Her initial post didn’t mention an accident, or that the shots were taken in hospital.The great unwashed commentariat pushed for a different story.‘C’mon,’ they said.‘Tell us what really happened.You were bashed by your boyfriend.’Gina let that sit a little too long.”

“Gina was angry.”

“Who are you trying to convince?”Anna heard the roar of a distant siren, then silence.“Gina was the author of the ambiguousGuess what happened to mecaption with the photos.There’s no justification for letting a false accusation of assault gain traction on social media.”Anna’s heart ached at Hunter’s distrust in what they’d created.“Your turn to guess.Did I track Gina down to trash your privacy, or because I wanted to prove she lied?”

“You didn’t believe I hit her.”His turn to be bewildered.

“I believed something was terribly wrong.”Anna jammed the photos into the envelope and pushed them across the table.“Because you wouldn’t talk to me.That left me without a compass.Like now—you’re offering no confession, no excuse, no denial.After a few months, where I’ve had to pry every confidence from you as if I’m excavating for rare earth minerals, I’ve had enough.”

“Fair enough,” he said, straightening his shoulders, preparing for a blow.

Couldn’t he see?Nick Richardson was still dictating his actions.

“So, did you get naked photos of me from Mr.Anonymous?Photos at that birthday party were against the rules, but, hey, rules are meant to be broken, especially by entitled men.”

His head snapped back.

“That’s answer enough.”Anna pointed a finger at him.“What’s the probability of you receiving nude photos of me and me receiving photos of your battered ex-girlfriend on the same day?”

“Unlikely.”

“Agreed.So that leaves your Mr.Anonymous as Nick Richardson.”

“Cas agrees.”

“A good man, Casildo.I suspect he tells the truth to the people he cares about.”

“Okay—I got photos of you naked bursting from a cake.”

“Show me.”Anna froze, trapped by an old fear.Until this moment she hadn’t been one hundred percent sure he had photos.“I’m not leaving until I see them.”

He rose, crossed to the bedroom, and returned a few minutes later.Upending the envelope, he watched as they tumbled onto the table, then silently resumed his seat.

Anna forced herself to focus on the top photo.The zigzag scar from her fall on a serrated bit of rusted metal was as visible as when she wore a swimsuit or shorts.

“I told you I’d worked as a stripper, burst from a special birthday cake, and you’ve seen me naked, so you know I have a scar, where it is.Unlike most people, you know how I got it.”

“Not sure how this is relevant.”He sounded weary to his bones.

“A scar’s not much to identify me.I could have weathered a scandal.”

It had taken Anna a long time to find her anger after Helen’s death.To look around and see Helen wasn’t the only silent victim.Longer still to find the best way to apologise for her failure to help her friend.Anna studied Hunter closely when he didn’t answer.She wanted to laugh and cry and beat the table with her fists.Telling the truth was her magic amulet, her way to identify friend and foe.If he didn’t believe her, they truly were finished.

“I see.You got a note too.What did it say?”

He deflated.“Nick recognised you from the bracelet, not the scar.”

Anna slapped a hand to her mouth, pushing away from the table, and racing for the bathroom.Grief slammed into her, making her knees buckle.The bastard, was all she could think.The bracelet alone wasn’t proof Nick had assaulted Helen, but she’d always believed he’d been the one to convince Helen to withdraw charges.Anna had seen him in the carpark of the hospital.Helen had been terrified when Anna had reached her—the charges already cancelled.

Helen had lived half a life until the day she died.Blaming herself.Ultimately hating herself.

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