Page 58 of Into These Eyes
Suddenly, I see the man he must have been in prison. His size, the look on his face, in his eyes. Add to that a shaved head, he’d have intimidated the toughest of the tough. This, I realise, is how he survived. Keeping this side of himself present at all times to avoid conflict. It’s certainly working on me. But unlike the inmates, I’ve experienced the real person behind the shield in front of me. The one who oozes compassion and a gentleness I never knew could exist in a man.
There’s no way I’m telling him I briefly dated the man he clearly hates. If Gavin’s right, if Jarrod buried a witness, then the detective’s reaction to my phone call last week makes perfect sense. But I can’t tell Gavin that either. By calling Jarrod the night of my father’s death, I royally screwed up. And I’m fucking embarrassed by my stupidity.
Scratching the back of his head, Gavin lets out a long sigh as his gaze softens and his muscles relax. “Sorry, I didn’t mean … just the mention of that guy fills me with something so vile I don’t want it anywhere near me, let aloneinme.”
That admission makes me wonder what soul-crushing terror the detective’s interrogation had on that innocent, eighteen-year-old boy.
“He hurt you?” I ask gently.
He shakes his head and sighs. “The lies are what hurt. I kept insisting my kid neighbour, Liam, saw the whole thing. But Reid categorically denied there were any witnesses besides Liam’s mother and the security guy. Said I was making it up. Said he had me dead to rights and he’d make sure I was put away for the rest of my life.”
“I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t. No one knew but me and Liam. Obviously, I was in no position to demand someone speak to the kid. Even my useless lawyer thought I was full of it because Reid made sure there was no record of Liam seeing anything. That feeling … of being trapped, deprived of any ability to prove what really happened … That was not a fun fucking time.”
The palpable stress and anguish bubbling out of him at the memory has the veins in his arms protruding, his whole body tense again.
But why would Reid do that? What could he possibly have to gain by arresting the wrong person? This whole thing is more screwed up than I imagined.
But it’s exciting, too. We might just have a new witness.
For the second time today, I reach out, my hand landing gently on his upper arm. I’ve never been a touchy-feely type of person, but something about Gavin Lake brings it out in me. I can’t seem to help myself. Which, for someone who’s always in control, is more than a little unsettling.
“Forget him. For now, anyway. This witness … Liam? Do you know his surname? Where he is now? Anything?”
“Liam Thompson. He was only six or seven at the time. I knew him enough to say hi when we saw each other on the street, but I was too old to be hanging out with a kid his age. You think, after all this time, it’ll help?”
“Oh, it’ll do more than help. It’ll show corruption, or at the very least incompetence. As long as we can find Liam, it’s not over, Gavin.”
He nods, his eyes briefly flicking to my hand resting on his arm, which I realise is squeezing a little too hard from my excitement over this new possibility. As I let it drop away, my fingers briefly dust over his forearm. My heart jolts at the contact. And the way he’s staring at his arm, like he’s never seen it before, I know he feels it too.
When he lifts his gaze and our eyes hold, I want to touch him again. While I battle to resist the urge, he glances away and runs a hand through his hair. I have the strangest feeling he’s trying to stop himself from touching me.
“But, ah,” I swallow, trying to concentrate. “Thompson’s a common name. You have any clues as to where we might find him?”
“Last I saw him, he was watching what happened from his bedroom window.”
“Why don’t we go for a drive? Maybe he or his parents still live there.” My heart suddenly picking up speed as the significance of that suggestion resonates through me.
“I suppose we could, but—”
“Great. Let’s go,” I say, already marching toward the car before I change my mind.
“Now?” he asks, catching up.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You have other plans?” I glance at him quickly enough to see his lips twitch.
“No, I don’t have anywhere else to be. I thought, maybe you do?”
“Nope. So, looks like we’re doing this.”
“Looks like it,” he agrees, though I don’t miss the reluctance in his voice.
Once we’re in the car and on the move, the rustle of paper catches my attention. I look over to see him peering into the open hamburger bag. When he spots me watching, he holds it out. I shake my head.
“Any objection if I eat it?” he asks.
“Go ahead.”
