Cameron pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned in frustration. What the hell was even happening? The guy hated doing his own dishes, but he thought some disgusting building one strong wind away from falling over mightsurprisehim.
Before he could begin to figure out how to respond to that, his phone vibrated with another incoming message.
Asher: Gotta go. Talon is glaring at me. Let me know how it goes.
Cameron: I will. Good luck.
Asher: Love you.
He read the last message three times, grinning like a complete sap, before he sent back his response.
Cameron: Love you.
He was still smiling when Natalie joined him with the realtor in tow, a middle-aged man with hooded eyes and slack jowls that reminded Cameron of a basset hound. His recent shift in mood didn’t mean he was any happier about having to actually step inside the building, though. He loved his sister, but if he ended up with tetanus—or worse—he was never going to let her forget it.
“Okay,” he said, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Let’s get this over with.”
~
Asher didn’t know whathe’d done to piss off Talon, but the guy seemed hellbent on torturing him.
They’d been at it for hours, pouring over the same information again and again until Asher thought his brain would start bleeding. While he agreed it was a good idea to be prepared, he honestly doubted Meredith Tripoli wasinterested in what kind of coffee he drank, and even if she asked, he didn’t need to rehearse a freaking answer.
“Asher, please focus.” Sitting across the table from him in one of the conference rooms at Platinum360 Public Relations, Talon exhaled a long, suffering sigh. “Now, there’s a chance she’ll ask about the other boys involved in the Mitchell Faraday case. You’ll want to keep your answers sympathetic but not specific.”
That wouldn’t be a problem since Asher hadn’t seen or spoken to any of them since the trial. “I don’t even know where they ended up.”
“Don’t you watch the news?”
“Not if I can help it,” he answered honestly. Since he’d been the headlining story for quite a few media outlets lately, watching the news didn’t hold much appeal.
Apparently, Talon disagreed. Sighing, he reached across the table for a leather-bound folder atop a stack of crisp, white papers. Placing it in front of him, he flipped it open to a page toward the back.
“Matthew Westcomb,” he read. “Died shortly after the trial from a drug overdose.”
Asher flinched back but didn’t say anything. As sad as it was, it didn’t surprise him. Maybe that was callous, but he’d been there. He knew what it was like to want to escape reality and numb the pain by any means necessary.
“I believe you’re already aware of Kyle Ander’s past.”
He nodded. A group home. A couple of foster families. Multiple incarcerations. He didn’t know all the details, but he knew enough.
Talon continued to stare at him for a few seconds before his gaze lowered back to his notebook. “Christopher Shirley died from HIV related complications seven years ago.”
Asher’s hand twitched on the tabletop, and he struggled not to fidget in his seat. His stomach did a slow roll, forcing bile up into his esophagus. Talon didn’t say when Chris had contracted the virus, and Asher didn’t ask. He’d been diagnosed with a pretty bad case of chlamydia when he’d been admitted to the hospital at seventeen. While it had been uncomfortable and embarrassing, even then, he’d known it could have been so much worse.
“And no one knows what happened to Daniel Kirkland,” Talon finished. “There’s no record of him after his last appearance in court. He could have changed his name, the same as you did.”
Or he could be dead like the other two.
Asher felt ill. He’d been friends with those boys more out of circumstance than any real bond. He had honestly tried not to think about them too often, but when he had, he’d always hoped that things had turned out for the best. Clearly, that hadn’t been the case.
Two dead. One missing. One in and out of jail since the age of seventeen.
If not for Luke, any one of those could have been his story.
“Like I said,” Talon continued, “you want to be sympathetic, but don’t make it personal. It was a tragedy. Time can’t heal all wounds. Try to avoid saying ‘I’ too often.”
Asher nodded numbly. It was kind of disturbing how dispassionately Talon spoke about such horrors. “Yeah, I got it.”
