never made a fuss, so eager to please those she could never satisfy. Not their father, who’d never been around enough to notice his children’s existence. Not their self-absorbed mother, who’d never considered anything her children did good enough.
Not a husband who took his own failings in life out on her, who didn’t deserve her love.
“It would have been hard on her,” Adam said, keeping his answer vague. “Having to relive it all again.”
“So where is he now?” Jillian asked.
“Still in Chicago. She divorced him, though he actually tried to fight it.”
“Whatever it took, at least she’s away from him now.”
“Yeah.” But it didn’t erase what had happened. Didn’t take away the fact that Adam hadn’t been there when she needed him most.
Jillian must have heard the self-recrimination in that single syllable. After a moment she said quietly, “I’m the last one who should be telling you not to blame yourself. I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve failed someone you should have been there for.”
Adam had no trouble understanding exactly what she meant. “Your friend must have meant a lot to you.”
“She did. She does,” Jillian corrected furiously. “We may not have been related by blood, but she was my sister in every way that matters. I told you I don’t have any family? Well, she was the closest thing I had. Ever since grade school, when we were six years old on the playground.”
“What about your parents?” he asked gently.
“It was just my mother and me. My father didn’t stick around, and my mother wasn’t exactly happy to be stuck with me. Half the time she forgot I existed. When I left home, we were basically done with each other. I don’t even know where she is now. I haven’t spoken to her in years.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it.
“It’s all right. I had Courtney. Growing up I spent more time at her house than mine. Her parents were great. Probably not a surprise that she always dreamed of getting married, and I didn’t.” She grew quiet. “They both passed away within a few years of each other not long ago. But we still had each other. We might have lived in different cities and not have gotten to see each other as much, but she was still my best friend. My sister.”
He didn’t want her words or the pain in her voice to get to him. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t the same. But it would be a lie. She’d loved Courtney Miller like a sister, and someone had hurt her sister. Not just hurt her, but killed her. Made it so that she would never have a chance to see her again. Adam had damn near killed Brad as it was. If that bastard had managed to kill Meredith, Adam knew there was nothing he wouldn’t have done to get justice for her.
Just as Jillian was trying to do.
“I should have been here,” she said hoarsely. “She gave me the only family I ever had, and I couldn’t even be here for her when she needed me. But I can be here for her now. I can find out who did this to her. If you’ll let me. Are you going to make me go?”
There it was, the question he’d been dreading. Because he knew the answer, and he didn’t like it one bit. “I should,” he said finally. For her own sake. For her safety.
He felt her smile, and knew she’d read the true answer in his response. “But you won’t.”
He couldn’t, even if he thought she’d go easily. “No. I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do.” And knowing how much this meant to her, why she cared so much, he couldn’t bring himself to make her leave.
Even as a small part of him whispered that he had his own selfish reasons for wanting her to stay.
“So what do you want to do?” she asked.
Another good question. “We can call the police. Tell them what happened to you and ask them to reopen the investigation into Courtney’s death based on what we now know.”
“I don’t have any proof. Do you really think they’ll believe me, or will they just try to dismiss everything that’s happened as a dream or a mere accident? I know they were told that Courtney was afraid of heights, but somehow they came to the conclusion she was not only on a high balcony at night, but came close enough