I’m totally dumbfounded. Shelley and I lived such a frugal life. I would have never known she had so much money.
“Are you okay?” Veronica asks, seeing my blank stare.
“Yes, I just...I would have never known that Shelley had so much money,” I reply honestly.
“Yeah, well, some people don’t like to flaunt what they have. I personally think if you’ve got it, use it while you’re alive. It’s no good to you once you’re dead—especially if you don’t have kids to hand it down to. Thankfully, your aunt had you to leave it for.”
I smile weakly and start signing the deed to the land. She hands me the safety deposit key in an envelope, and I thank her as I leave. As I wait for the elevator, I open the envelope in my hands. There’s a letter from Aunt Shelley along with a key.
Blake,
This is going to be a lot to take in, so you may want to sit down to read this.
When the elevators open I snap the letter shut and look up. My heart drops when I find the sky-blue eyes that terrorize my nights watching me intently. I take a moment to assess his face again, slowly this time. He looks about forty years old, give or take. His blond hair is slicked back; he has light blond hair that sprinkles his jaw. His nose is long and straight and his eyes—those sky-blue eyes. I’ve dreamt of finding him and asking him questions for so long, but now that I have him in front of me, I don’t think I can bear to know the answers.
“Mr. Lewis,” I say as I extend a shaky hand to greet him. “I’m Blake Brennan. I’m a friend of Aimee’s.”
I watch as his eyes widen before he finally sticks his hand in mine, I feel as if he’s reaching into my heart and turning the knife that’s been there for the past twenty-one years.
“It’s about time we formally meet, Blake,” he replies as he examines every inch of my face. “Would you like to step into my office? I have a couple of minutes to kill.”
My eyes widen at his choice of words, but I nod in agreement.
I pull out my phone as we reach his office door and send Cole a text message that says I’m thinking about him. If I die, I want him to know that. I wish I could have sent him one that said I love you, but I’m not that positive that I’m going to die.
Mark’s office is massive. He has a huge cherry wood desk in the middle of the room, a bookshelf to the left, a bar to the right with barstools, and an amazing view of the river and city behind him. The decor screams grandeur.
“Have a seat, Blake,” he says as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it on a barstool. He misses it by a long shot, so it lands on the floor. I suppress the urge to pick it up and place it on a seat in front of his desk. He goes over to the bar and asks me if I want a drink. I shake my head no and watch as he pours himself some single malt scotch. Maybe I should have said yes.
“How are you?” he asks, searching my face.
I’m not sure my vocal cords will cooperate and reply.
I open my mouth a couple of times and finally clear my throat. “I’m...fine. How are you?” I ask in a confused tone.
“Good. How’s law school?” he asks, watching me intently.
This would be a good time to use my poker face. I take a deep breath and pray that I have a poker face to play with.
“How’d you know I was in law school?” I ask evenly.
“You said you’re a friend of Aimee’s. I assume you know her from school. That girl doesn’t have a social life outside of school. I’m assuming you have some questions for me?” he asks raising an eyebrow.
I take a deep breath as he takes a sip of his drink and can no longer wait to ask him the one question that’s been tormenting me for the past thirteen years. “Did you kill my father?” I ask quietly.
He chokes on his drink and coughs a couple of times. “Wha...What? I meant questions about your estates. What are you talking about?” he sputters.
“Sorry,” I say as my phone starts ringing. I look down and see Cole’s name on my screen before I send it to voicemail. “That was an awkward thing to ask, but I know who you are.”
He clears his throat. “No, Blake. You don’t know who I am. If you did, you would not ask me a question like that. My job is to put criminals behind bars. Why would I kill someone?”