Page 166 of Brutal
No.
I won’t do this.
I won’t put those two words in the same space.
Halstead.
Father.
They don’t belong together.
They don’t even touch.
I make sure of it.
I put the phone down when I hear movement outside the guestroom door.
Samson.
He’s still here, of course.
Still watching.
Still holding things back.
Fine.
If he won’t tell me everything, I’ll find it myself. And this time I won’t wait for him to decide I’m ready.
I know who I need to see.
43
SAMSON
The door to her guestroom is open, and she’s sitting on the bed wearing a robe I don’t recognize. It’s probably a part of the wardrobe I had brought in for her.
Her shoulders are rigid, and she’s staring at her phone. When she sees me, she raises her eyebrows. “I need to go out,” she says.
“Where do you need to go?” I ask.
“Out.”
I darken my gaze. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
My own words turned back on me. I suppose I deserve that. I walk inside the guestroom and close the door, blocking it. “First of all, you’re not going anywhere dressed like that.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” She walks into the closet, grabs black stretch pants and a white sweater. She heads into the en suite bathroom and emerges five minutes later, clothed, with some lipstick on and her hair pulled into a ponytail. She puts on her boots.
“Ready?” she says.
“No.”
Her breathing doesn’t change. “I want answers, and this is how I’m going to get them.”
“And you’re going alone?”
