Page 59 of Into These Eyes
From the corner of my eye, I watch him demolish the remaining half in a couple of bites. Satisfied, he wipes his mouth and balls up the paper bag.
“What a guts,” I say in an effort to lighten the tension that’s developed since we started toward our destination.
He lets out a contented sigh and rubs his stomach. “I know, but feeling full like this is so … strange. I kind of love it and hate it at the same time.”
I shoot him a serious glare. “Do not throw up in my car.”
“I promise not to, as long as you promise not to scare the crap out of me again.”
“Deal.”
Resting his head on the headrest, he watches me. “Have you ever been there?”
“No, but I know where it is.”
A sudden thought pops into my head. My fingers clutch the wheel as the statement I made to the police all those years ago disperses dread into my blood stream.
“Jamie? Are you okay?”
I need to get that night straight in my head. When I pull up at a red light, I glance at him. “Sorry?”
“Last time we were in the car, you barely had your hands on the wheel. Right now, I don’t think Superman could pry them off.” He pauses for a moment before continuing, “Seeing where your mother died … maybe we should just turn around.”
I know what he’s trying to say, but right now, what has me in knots is so disturbing, I can’t keep it in.
“Have you ever believed something so entirely that you’d swear your life on it,” I ask quietly, “only to have your world thrown off-kilter, revealing it to be a lie?”
He doesn’t push me. He simply waits.
“I remember the police asking me if Dad had been home all night. And I truly believed he was. But I just realised, he wasn’t actuallywithme the whole time. I was upstairs, giving Anika a bath. For at least an hour, I didn’t see him, but …”God, how do I say it?
“What’re you thinking?”
“There’s no way my father could have driven to your house and back. The garage door, it always made a hell of a racket every time it went up or down. I never heard it.”
When I glance over at him, he’s facing front, his jaw clenched, hands fisted on his thighs. “You don’t think he did it?”
“Gavin …” I wait until he turns and meets my eyes. “Iknowhe did. I just don’t know how.”
A car horn beeps behind me. The lights have changed. I get moving again, hating the way he’s doubting me. I suppose, after a decade and a half of no one believing him, he’s finding it hard to trust. And I want him to trust me.
“The cops never bothered to even look at your father, let alone how he might’ve done it.” The bitterness dripping from his words sound nothing like him. “They had their man and that was that.”
“Clearly the police failed in their duty to conduct a thorough investigation. If we can prove that they literally let the real killer walk free right under their noses, that they buried the fact therewasanother witness, well … you’re not only going to get your conviction overturned, Gavin, you have a strong chance of receiving compensation as well.”
He scoffs in disbelief.
“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you get what you’re entitled to.”
His intense look of gratitude has tears threatening, forcing me to blink rapidly to keep them at bay.
When we’re about five minutes from the scene of the crime, he asks, “Did you live around here?”
“We did, but after Mum’s death, we moved to where I am now.”
“It’s taken almost an hour to get here.”
I glance at the clock on the dash. “And?”
