“I’m so sorry, Bryan.”
“How did he die, Hailey?”
I yelled so hard my vision tunneled. She stepped back from me as the construction crew came out back. Everyone was piled at the door, trying to figure out what all the yelling and commotion was about. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care what they heard or found out.
Hailey knew a truth about my brother that not even I knew, and she’d kept it from me for months.
Ever since she walked into that fucking bar and showed her fucking face.
“John was helping me,” she said. “One of my art therapy students was dealing drugs during my classes, smuggling it in and handing it out like fucking candy. There were guys... huge guys... who came in and trashed the place. John was there painting when they came in and just started knocking everything over, trying to find the drugs one of my students was handing out. They told me that I’d be liable for the money they were losing if I didn’t hand over the student, but I refused to. John, he said he would help me, but they... he pissed them off so much.”
“What did he do?” I asked hotly.
“I don’t know. He said the less I knew, the better. All I knew was that he was making frequent trips to San Diego. I-he-they caught up with him and, well, I followed him one night. I didn’t know if he was safe.”
“You just followed him,” I said.
“I didn’t know if he was safe,” she repeated. “And I heard them talking, threatening him, and they pulled out a gun.”
I felt my entire body lock up at that moment. There was no mention of a gunshot wound anywhere on his body. Was she lying to me again?
“Hailey, I swear to fuck if you’re lying to me—”
“I swear I’m telling you the truth,” she said breathlessly. “I called the police once I heard the gun cock, but they started talking about how he was just a junkie. How they could shoot him up and leave him there, and no one would investigate.”
“They shot up my brother,” I hissed.
“Bryan. I’m so sorry. Please, I’m so, so sorry.”
“My brother was murdered.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Couldn’t feel my body, only sense the blood rushing past my ears. This couldn’t be happening. Hailey was wrong. She was lying.
“That’s why I came to San Diego to open this gallery.” Tears str
eamed down her cheeks as she tried to explain. “Showing your brother’s paintings was my way of coping with what happened. My way of coping with the fact that my anonymous tip did nothing to spur the police to look into things. I tried. Bryan, I tried everything I could without getting myself back into trouble. I swear to you, I didn’t mean to keep this from you. It just spiraled so far out of control and—”
“Shut up,” I snapped.
“What?”
“Shut up, Hailey.”
“Your brother saved me,” she whispered desperately.
“Too bad you didn’t have the guts to return the favor.” It was cruel. Hurtful. But at this moment, I didn’t care.
“What?” she asked.
“Get out of here.” I glared at her. “I never want to see you again.”
“Bryan, you don’t mean that.”
“After this project, I don’t want you to call me. I don’t want you to text me. I don’t want you to come near me.”
“Bryan, please,” she said, sobbing.
She reached for my hand, but I wrenched it back. She fell to her knees, her face in her hands as she began to sob again. I spun around and headed into the gallery, pushing through the crowd of construction crew members who had gathered to witness what was going on. I could feel their wide eyes on me as I made my way to my truck, throwing open my door and getting in.
I left Hailey and the gallery in my rearview mirror as tears trickled down my cheeks. I didn’t think the pain in my chest was every going to stop. Nothing had hurt this bad. Ever.
THE END