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“I don’t know.”
She touched his arm, anchoring herself. “Then there is something?”
He let out a breath. “Maybe.”
“What is it? Nothing you will tell me about Ryan will surprise me.”
Wes tilted his head as if deciding whether to believe her, then glanced down and met her eyes. “Do you know where he was going when he was in the accident?”
Apprehension multiplying, her pulse pounded in her ears. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. “No.”
“He was on his way to meet me.”
The words were a sucker punch. “What? Why? Why would he meet with you?”
“I had always assumed that he was giving me a heads-up that Erick, Peter, and Martin had outplayed my hand.”
She recalled the convergence of Erick’s and Phillip’s interference, Peter’s investigation screeching to a halt, and Ryan’s death. “Ryan and I didn’t know what was happening that day.”
With a small shake of his head, Wes moistened his lips. “You can’t know what was shared between the brothers.”
“Between those two, I can.”
“If it wasn’t warning me—and if he had anything to do with Caitie’s death—he would have wanted investigators as far away from his family as possible.”
“No. That’s stupid. Even if he did. Which he didn’t.” Wes didn’t look convinced. “Why?”
“Erick and Martin were Peter’s alibis for the night Natalie was killed, correct? Just like Erick was Ryan’s alibi.”
“So?”
“Kind of strange for someone to be an alibi on two different murders. Both strangulations.”
Her mouth had gone dry. It was all circumstantial. It was ridiculous. She hadn’t married her sister’s murderer. “I want to go home now.”
Chapter Sixteen
Wes tapped the brakes again. The traffic leaving New Jersey crawled by. The uncomfortable tension in the truck didn’t make the trip any easier. He wished he had better ideas to share, but he didn’t, and he wouldn’t lie to her. He needed fresh air and to stretch his legs. The truck could use some gas. Really, he’d do anything to break the uneasy strain gripping them. “Are you hungry?”
“I guess so.”
He signaled the lane change. “Mad at me?”
“No,” she admitted. “Mad at the world.”
He slowed at the top of the ramp. “Burgers, subs, tacos, or fried chicken?”
“They’re all still serving breakfast food.” She scrunched her nose but pointed. “How about that one? Over there.”
He maneuvered through traffic and stopped in front of the fast-food joint.
“I’m mad that you don’t see what I see,” she said. “Mad that I’m questioning everything I know. Just…mad.” She wrapped her arms over her chest and rocked, hugging herself. Wes wanted to be the one to do that, but right now, he probably wasn’t what she needed.
“But I think a bacon and cheese biscuit will make it better,” she added.
He cracked a smile, and not for the first time, he was glad she didn’t pick at food like a bird scared to eat in front of others. “I think you might be right.”
They walked inside. Bailey never shied away from the truth, and the possibilities he’d laid out had shaken her. Did she question his motives? Would it be easier to accept if last night hadn’t happened?
