Page 134 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Fifty-Two
Anthony
My eyes open, my mind in that hazy state between sleep and alertness. The bedside clock says it’s only six thirty. Iris and I spent most of last night wrapped around each other, but I’m still too wired from what happened at the party to sleep.
Iris, on the other hand, looks so peaceful. I watch her chest rising and falling slowly and take comfort. I don’t want to see a still torso ever again.
I start to reach for my phone, then realize it’s in my jacket…which is downstairs. I look back at her, not wanting to leave and content to watch her sleep. But there are things I need to do. Quietly, I pull on some shorts and go to the living room.
Time to make Sam pay.
I text TJ. Find out where Sam was last night during the party.
The fucker wasn’t invited. I made an executive decision to snub him. Iris hasn’t commented either, despite my concern she might want to invite him, if only for appearances’ sake.
But just because he wasn’t invited didn’t mean he didn’t try to crash it. Although Ryder’s security is top-notch, no system is infallible. Sam could’ve snuck in, using his relationship to Iris. The guys checking the list might’ve thought we made a mistake. Or they let him in anyway because he’s Iris’s uncle, and why wouldn’t a relative want to stop by and congratulate his beloved niece?
After a while, I begin to lose patience. I start to write a follow-up text for TJ when he responds.
He’s dead.
I stare at the two words, then shake my head and read them again.
Still the same.
Dead?Absolutely no way. Maybe TJ got mixed up. I had a small business dealing with a man named Sam Lincoln a few years ago. I meant Sam Peacher, I reply.
TJ calls me. “I know you meant Peacher. He’s dead.”
Holy fuck.Shock tears through me like a tornado. Fortunately, I’m standing beside a couch, so I sit.
Dead. How? When?
“When did it happen? Was it after the party?” Maybe the motherfucker got what was coming to him after he fled the scene.
TJ’s next word smashes my theory into smithereens. “During.”
“How?” I demand, as the realization dawns on me that he and Jill died at the same time.
“Someone ran him off a highway. No witnesses. Died of internal bleeding. If the other driver had called 911, he could’ve lived.” TJ considers for a second. “Or maybe not. People here can’t drive for shit in the rain. The cops think the weather was a factor.”
They’re wrong. Sam used to live in Louisiana. Torrential rain is nothing, thunder and lightning par for the course. “Anything else?”
“Funeral’s in a week.”
Jesus.“That fast?”
“Guess his son wants to wrap it up. He’s getting Daddy’s money.”
Damn it.This is not what I wanted to deal with, so soon after the darkness of Jill’s death. Iris is going to have to be involved, since Sam’s her uncle. Is Marty going to expect her to show for the funeral? Does she want to? “Update me if you hear anything else.”
He grunts, and I hang up.
I place elbows on my knees and run my hands over my unshaven jaw. Two seconds later, I jump off the couch and start pacing.
I was convinced Sam was behind Jill’s death, but… If he didn’t do it, who did? A co-conspirator from nine years ago? Somebody else who doesn’t like it that I’m digging into the past? Or was it just some unrelated personal vendetta?
The last option is unlikely. Getting to her at Ryder’s mansion is too difficult for most people. And she only decided to show in the first place because I asked her to come to tell me about the findings.
