Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk #3) - Samantha Young Page 0,120
clearly again, I’ll be here. This time forever.”
The words wrapped around him, almost like she’d put her arms around him and rested her head on his back. Was it enough? Could he trust that tomorrow she wouldn’t wake up and remember that she was supposed to pay some kind of screwed-up penance to Dillon?
Exhausted, weary beyond measure, Michael walked away.
He had a job to do.
A killer to catch.
That was at least something he knew he could do.
All the rest would have to wait.
For once, she would have to wait for him.
I had a tight grasp on my panic as I parked my old Mini in my parking spot and got out of the car. What a day. It seemed never-ending. Between my morning with Michael, Jessica’s heartbreaking revelations and the much-needed lightning bolt of perspective they’d given me, the encounter with Aengus Sullivan, and then Michael’s dejected anger, I was a mess.
After Jessica’s story, I went home to shower and change. I’d paced my apartment, going back and forth on how I should approach Michael, what I should say, and eventually decided to go to him and tell him I loved him. I’d gone to the station, only to discover Michael had taken a call at Cooper’s. The deputy had muttered something about Michael being popular that day, and it all made sense when I turned up at Coop’s to find Aengus Sullivan berating his son.
The rage I’d felt.
Oh, man. I’d never wanted to hurt someone the way I wanted to hurt Michael’s father.
How dare he! My blood was still hot from the encounter as I let myself into my apartment block.
And Michael was so mad at me. I didn’t blame him. Even when I wanted to yell at him, I couldn’t. Because I got it. I absolutely understood. When a parent went off like Michael’s dad had, it didn’t matter how old the child was. It stung, and it locked a person inside his own head for a while.
But he’d come out of it. He would.
We’d work this out.
For the first time, I had hope.
Honest.
I wasn’t panicking. I wasn’t—
A muffled shout from my left intruded on my thoughts as I climbed the stairs. Eyebrows drawing together, I turned my head toward Ivy’s apartment and cocked my ears to listen.
A loud shatter followed by the deep baritones of a male voice from inside the apartment sent a chill down my spine.
Ivy.
Goddamn it. This day really was never-ending.
Slipping back down the stairs, I quickly untied the ankle strap on my shoes so I could move without being heard. I winced at the cold tiles underfoot and scurried across the hall to Ivy’s. Pressing my ear to her door, I could hear the muffled voice again. The guy’s words were louder but unclear. Still, there was more than a hint of agitation in his tone.
Thinking it was better to be yelled at for being nosy than to ignore the gut feeling that told me Ivy was in trouble, I tried the door handle and held my breath when it opened with a soft click. Pushing it ever so slightly, the voices came to me loud and clear.
“Stop fucking around,” a male voice whined. “I know you got money. That dead boyfriend of yours must have left you a shitload too.”
Horror filled me.
I knew that voice.
It was Freddie Jackson.
Ivy sounded emotionless as she responded. “Even if I had it, transferring that kind of money doesn’t happen overnight. There’s a ten-grand transfer limit for online banking.”
“Then you must have something I can pawn. Jewelry. Anything. I need money to disappear.”
For a moment, I wondered how someone who had evaded arrest and a subsequent police hunt could be this stupid? Panic and desperation turned people into morons.
The thing was, it also made them dangerous, and Freddie had already killed.
Fear crawled over me at the reminder.
Ivy was in there alone with a killer.
Pushing the door open carefully, I slipped inside the apartment. Ivy’s floor was covered with deep-pile carpet that masked my steps as I slid along the wall. The apartment opened from the short hall into a living room, like mine.
I swallowed past the lump of apprehension in my throat, heart hammering. I ignored the cold sweat gathering under my arms, and forced myself to peek around the wall.
Freddie stood in the center of the room in a shirt and jeans that looked too big for him. A baseball cap was drawn down over his head.