Page 36 of Bed of Thorns

“Gathering evidence.”

“Of your father’s wrongdoings.”

“Yes. Did you know he was worth millions?”

She laughed, the sound as bitter as the taste of bile in my throat. “No, that I did not know. Meanwhile, my mother remained in the same small house that I grew up in. He always pretended that money was tight on his end. I don’t remember ever going to your house more than once.”

“Because he was hiding who and what he was. He lost everything during the crash of two thousand eight, but he recovered, turning his real estate business into an empire. However, I had no idea how much money he’d squirreled away until I went to work for him.”

“You’re saying he didn’t earn that money legally.”

“I’m saying,” I stated as I turned my head in her direction, “that he crossed the line and once he did, he never came back.”

“Can you prove it?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s what the box is for.”

“Yes.”

She shuddered audibly, holding her arms as the thunder rolled. “Did you kill that man?”

It was the single answer she needed, the one that would define not only this moment but all those coming after. It was also the same question that had remained in the back of my mind, nagging at me. The thickest chains were threatening to pull me under water.

Was I capable of killing a man in cold blood? The man I’d become today would have no issue. The boy I’d been before had never desired to hurt another human being, yet I’d been told years before that everyone could cross the line of good versus evil, one that would destroy lives, stripping the person of goodness and humanity.

Everyone said I’d crossed that line.

And the nightmares indicated they were right.

CHAPTER9

Mercedes

My mother used to say that a thunderstorm cleansed the soul, but on this night, the monstrous clouds and flashes of neon lightning did little more than add to the uncertainty.

I waited for his answer, uncertain he’d ever trust me enough to tell me everything, to provide the truth. I hated the thought, abhorred the images flashing in my mind. I wanted desperately to believe in his innocence, when my mind was riddled with so many questions I couldn’t think straight.

I’d always thought that my observation skills were keen, better than most in allowing me to see right through a person when they were lying just by looking into a person’s eyes. The darkness prevented me from seeing anything more than a hazy silhouette of Edmond. He hadn’t answered the question. While I should demand that he detail every aspect of that horrible night, I realized that the reason he was hesitant about doing so wasn’t in order to prevent himself from being placed into a position to lie to me, but because he had no idea. He wasn’t certain whether he’d pulled that trigger after beating the man with the barrel of a gun I didn’t know he owned and because of that, neither his conscience nor his soul could ever be cleansed.

In those few moments of standing on a tiny deck in the middle of a small island, it seemed the world had spun to a halt, refusing to go on unless the truth was revealed. The silence between us was heartbreaking, deafening, and also very telling.

He needed my strength in order to guide him through the intensive process of learning what had really happened.

If that was even possible.

No matter the consequences.

There’d been so many questions buried aside, so many lies. I’d felt them from the first hateful thing I’d thrown out at a man I’d never consider my father. He’d looked me point blank in the face and stated that his son was dead to him and that I would never mention Edmond’s name again inside my mother’s household.

Only Fernando had started calling it his household.

The two words had pissed me off as much as the rest. He’d been invited into my mother’s house, pretending he had little to offer. Hell, she’d paid for many of the dates they’d gone on.

So many lies.

So much bullshit.

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