“Thismornin',” the man replied, and his eyes held atormenting amount of fear and trepidation. “We live together, in a wee house onBrewster's Path.”
“Wherewould he be now?”
Theman scratched the back of his head, his gaze wide and his mouth open. “He-he'dbe at his job. He's a chef at Shavon's. But can I ask, is he … is he introuble? D-didsomethin' happen to the lass?”
Ignoringevery one of his questions, Alec pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket andscribbled for a moment. I studied the worry on the man's face and saw thesudden distress that had swallowed his confidence. I knew that look. I knewthat feeling that was gnawing away at his guts and his heart, the fear thatsomething had happened, that something was happening right now to his brother,someone he loved unconditionally beyond all reason. And while I had wanted tofeel sympathy for him, all I felt was a surge of controlling rage, as I steppedcloser to the bar and looked up into his face with sneering hatred.
“Doyouknow what happened to my sister?”
“W-what?”he stammered, looking at me with shock and pale-faced horror.
“Doyou know something you're not telling us?”
Heshook his head, raising both hands in surrender. “I swear to ye, lass; I knownothin'.”
“Butsomeoneknowssomething!” I shouted, slapping my hand against thebar, and I felt TJ's hand grip my arm.
“Mom,come on, he doesn't know anything.”
“Dammit!”I exclaimed, and with a heated huff, I wrenched my arm away from his grasp andturned from the bar to cover my mouth with a hand and slammed my eyes shut.
“CanI please haveyername?” Alec asked.
“Roland,”the man answered without hesitation. “Roland Eddington. Is she all right?”
“She’sjust concerned aboutfindin’ whoever killed hersister,” Alec answered, before I heard his pen, as it worked against the paperwith fervor.
“Killed?The lass is dead?”
“Sheis,” Alec replied, then said, “All right, Mr. Eddington. Thank ye verra muchforyercooperation. I'll assume I can count on ye,if ye're needed for furtherquestionin'.”
“O-ofcourse,” Roland replied. “Anythin' ye need.”
“Great,I'll be in touch,” Alec said.
Then,I felt his hand against the small of my back. A calming warmth encased my body,soothing my nerves and easing my rage, and I resisted the need to lean into histouch and demand he wrap his arms around me. I deeply craved that momentaryreprieve and the healing salve of human compassion. But I wouldn’t allow it.Instead, I let him gently push me toward the door, with TJ by my side.Together, we left the pub, entered the car, and without a word, we began thedrive to Shavon's, to face the last known man to see my sister alive.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ALEC
“Yecannaeact like that, Rosie,” I shouted, as I drove in thedirection of the restaurant. “And I need to know that ye can controlyeranger whenconfrontin’ thisman, or else Icannaebring ye with me.”
Rosie’shands were wrapped tightly in the sleeves of her sweatshirt, with only herfingers peeking out, clearly clenched in white-knuckled fists against herthighs. Her anger and frustration were evident and justified, but thoseemotions were also a liability, and I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t approachJames Eddington with her at my side, not knowing when she was going to take anosedive into her personal pit of emotional rage. If she was going to do this,I needed her calm and collected, the same Rosie she had been that morning,looking at the photographs of her sister’s corpse.
“I’msorry,” she said, her voice shaking beneath the weight of her grief. “I’ll befine. I just …” She shook her head and turned to look out the window. “I don’tknow, I just—”
“Yedidn’t anticipateyerreaction,” I replied, noddingpatiently. “I understand. But do ye not think this man Rolandisnaeright nowcallin’ hisbrother, to warn him? He’s alreadyexpectin’ us, andthe absolutelastthing we need is for ye to give him any more reason topanic. So, I need to know right now, will ye be all right, or do ye want me totake ye to Rick’s?”
Shetook a moment of silence to think, sucking at her teeth and flicking at hercuticles. I was grateful for it, knowing that she was at least giving it somethought before making her decision. But then, she said, “I'll be okay. I'llleave if I think I can't handle it.”
Yecan’t argue with the woman. Ye’ll just have to trust her, and hopefully, thiswhole fuckin’ thing doesn’t explode inyergoddamnface.
Pullingin a deep breath, I nodded slowly. “All right. TJ, what about you?” I asked,glancing in the mirror, to see the forever scowling teenager staring right backat me. “Ye think ye can keepyercool?”
“I'llbe fine,” he muttered, before turning his attention back to the window.
“Areyou sure?” Rosie pressed, looking over her shoulder into the backseat. “Becauseyou don't have to force yourself to do something you don't want—”
