Page 74 of Ethan & Grace

“I have an interesting update from my visit to the hospital on Friday,” Grace said, excitement flickering in her eyes. I could tell she’d been waiting for the right moment to tell me since we’d sat down.

“Go on.”

“I don’t know if I ever mentioned it, but Amy’s boyfriend, Garrett, works at St. Thomas’ Hospital, where she was taken after the accident. I asked him to show me her medical file, just to see if there was anything in it that might give us a clue. But guess what? Her file was gone. Garrett said it was probably just an issue with the system, but I think our killer had it deleted.”

“Fuck,” I murmured. Whoever was behind the accident had gone to great lengths to erase every trace of their involvement. Some days, I was tempted to confront my dad. He knew who was responsible for Amy’s death, though I doubted he’d ever tell me. Maybe if we were closer, things would be different. But we weren’t. “How is that an interesting update?”

“It’s not. But after we discovered the files were gone, Garrett told me that a friend of his was the first paramedic on the scene. So I spoke to him, and he told me he saw a broken Spirit of Ecstasy on the road. You know, that bonnet ornament on the front of Rolls-Royces.”

“Amy was run over by a Rolls-Royce?” This really was an intriguing update.

Grace nodded, excited. “So we just have to find out which of the suspects on our list owns—or recently owned—a Rolls-Royce. I just don’t know how. We can’t exactly break into their garages. Do you have an idea? You know these people, after all.”

That was true, but apart from James’s dad, these people were still practically strangers to me. They were my parents’ friends, not mine. I usually only ran into them briefly at events my parents or Henry dragged me to, and we’d exchange a few pleasantries at most. I could hardly just turn up at their homes and quiz them about their cars. Not least because the culprit would presumably be smart enough to lie to me.

I had an idea. “What about hiring a private detective?”

Grace looked puzzled, so I explained: “Henry works with one. Edgar Hawthorne. He’s keeping an eye on Randell for him. I’m sure it would be easy for him to find out which cars our suspects drive.”

“Wouldn’t that be quite expensive?”

“I could pay Edgar,” I offered, but Grace was already shaking her head before I’d even finished speaking.

“Absolutely not! I don’t want you spending your money on me.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “Besides, I wouldn’t strictly speaking be spending my money on you. I’d be paying Edgar, and I’d be doing it for Amy and to save us time.”

Grace didn’t seem convinced by my arguments, though it was clear she liked the idea in general. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe the collection money I got from Rakesh and the others will be enough to pay him. And I still have some savings.”

I wouldn’t let Grace touch her hard-earned money when I had access to my dad’s fortune through my credit cards. My dad, who was ruthlessly protecting the culprit. Still, I nodded to keep things moving. “So . . . we’ll hire Edgar?”

Grace looked determined. “Yes. The sooner the person guilty of Amy’s death is behind bars, the better.”

27

If Richard Darlington were my father, I’d be a junkie too. #BoycottTheDarlington #FuckDarlington

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Grace

I never would have guessed that Ethan Darlington, of all people, would become my port in the storm after Amy’s death, but in this moment, I felt completely at peace. It had been two hours since our conversation at the Molly Rose. We’d stayed at the café for a while, just talking. But rather than let Wallace drive me home afterwards, I’d gone back to the hotel with Ethan. And now we were lying next to each other in his bed, a little sweaty, breathless, and content. We enjoyed each other’s company in silence as Ethan gently stroked my upper arm, his gaze fixed dreamily on the ceiling. The sun had already set, and the room was dark except for the bedside lamps, their light casting soft shadows across Ethan’s face.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” I asked into the silence.

“What?”

“The two of us, lying here together.”

“No, not at all.”

“So you saw this coming?”

He turned his head and kissed the spot between my eyebrows. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I always hoped it might happen someday. My only regret is that it didn’t happen sooner. We could’ve had so much fun together.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Mine,” Ethan replied.