Page 117 of Between Regrets and Promises

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Just me, ass face.”

“Then yeah, come in.”

Hesitantly, I let myself in and find him on the bed playing his PlayStation. “Uh, wanna tell me what happened?”

He shrugs. “Cheryl was expecting more than I wanted to give.”

“Wasn’t her name Cindy?”

“Was it? Well, whatever. I told her to leave if she wasn’t happy to just hang out, and she got pissed.”

“And you wonder why you’re a bachelor,” I tease, leaning against the doorframe.

“Pfft. I don’t wonder.” He laughs, keeping his eyes on the screen. “I know why, and I plan to keep it that way.”

Since I have time to kill, I sit and play with him, or rather, he fucking destroys me because I never play video games. He tries to show me some things, but it’s pointless because Liam kills me every damn time.

“You suck,” I mutter after losing again.

“Actually,yousuck.” He cackles.

It’s almost seven when Jerad calls, and I realize time has flown, and Sophie will be back soon.

“Hey, man,” I answer, stepping out of Liam’s room to avoid his shouting and cursing at the TV every five seconds. “You find anything yet?”

“Well, kind of. I think so. First, the license plates didn’t match a Caleb Royce.”

My heart sinks. “Not surprised, but what name was it listed under?”

“Well first, I wanted to ask. The last guy you asked me to look up. His name was Weston Westbrook, right?”

The cautious tone in his voice has me on edge as I walk downstairs and into the living room.

“Right, but he’s dead,” I remind him.

“Well, these plates are registered to a Dalton Westbrook.”

“What do you mean? Who’s Dalton? Weston’s brother?”

“It appears that way. One brother and one sister. The sister lives in Tulsa. Dalton is a thirty-three-year-old male from Los Angeles, worked as a broker at a bank up until six weeks ago. No kids.”

Blinking, I try to wrap my head around this information. “What about a wife? Is he married?”

“Actually, I found a marriage license from a few years ago to a woman named Sarah.”

“Okay and?” My heart is pounding so hard I wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it over the phone.

“I also found her death certificate that was filed five months ago.”

“Jesus.” I brush a hand through my hair as sweat beads on my forehead.

Pacing the living room, I grab some water before I fucking faint.

“Yeah, that’s not all,” he warns, inhaling sharply. “The cause of death was ruled as an accidental drowning, so I dug some more into the case and found Dalton was the number one suspect, but no concrete evidence was found to accurately charge him. There had been several domestic abuse calls, and although there was bruising near her neck, they couldn’t pinpoint him being home that night.”

“What?” I gasp. “Where the hell did he say he was?”

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