Page 40 of Sinner’s Game
“I don’t know,” Ronan says. He nods toward the monitor, and I turn to see Mr. Big walk on screen as he says, “but if he hadn’t, we wouldn’t know who killed him. And I have a feeling we’re about to see that very thing.”
“True that,” Reggie says.
“Oh, God, no. I can’t watch that.” But the words are barely out of my mouth when I freeze, my eyes riveted to the screen. It’s Mr. Big, all right, wearing the same clothes he died in. The same outfit he’d been wearing when he yelled at me on the street. And then someone steps closer, entering the frame from the left.
I feel Ronan’s hand clasp my arm as I see that the woman is holding a gun.
“What the hell?”
His voice is barely more than a whisper, and I second his words, my heart pounding in my chest because this bitch is about to murder my landlord, and here we are, watching it in color.
She cocks her head to the left, tilting her face up and smiling as she raises the gun. In that moment, the camera has her right in frame and perfectly in focus.
Oh. My. God.
I gasp, suddenly seeing what Ronan has already picked up on. I twist around, letting him pull me against him, his arms going around me as I cry out, my horror and fear muffled against his chest.
Not from the brutal murder. Not from the splatter of blood. Not even from the way the body falls, life gone in an instant.
I’m in shock because the woman doing the shooting is me.
Chapter Thirteen
Ronan held Brandy close as she trembled against his chest, but his eyes stayed on the screen. How? How the hell was this even possible?
“It isn’t me.” The voice was small and scared and broke his heart.
She eased back in his arms and looked up at him, her face pale with shock, her eyes so full of pain that it took all of his strength not to pull her back against his chest and hold her close so that he absorbed all her pain and fear.
Instead, he cupped her head. “Dear God, angel, do you think I could believe that it was?” He shot a sideways glance at Reggie, full of reprobation and anger. She looked back at him impassively.
“I wasn’t even there,” Brandy said, looking between the two of them, her voice still full of panic as if he hadn’t even tried to soothe her at all. “I was at the beach. The time-stamp says two forty-five, and I was at the beach. With Ellie. You believe me, don’t you?”
“Of course,” he said, his voice as calm and soothing as he could make it. “Of course I do. Try not to worry. This is going to be okay.”
“How?” she snapped, her eyes shining with anger and fear. “How the hell will it be okay?”
He fought a wince as she broke free of his embrace, then started to pace. Brandy rarely cursed, and that harsh word cut through him even more than the tear that was tracing a slow path down her cheek.
What he wouldn’t give to be able to take that fear away. To keep her safe, always.
She paced some more, her fingertips pressed to her temples, then spun around to face Reggie, her expression full of fury and hurt. “You could have warned me.”
“No. I couldn’t. You needed to see it.”
“The hell she did,” Ronan snapped.
“It was her, Ronan.” Reggie’s voice was at least as hard as his. “At least it damn sure looked like her, and you know it as well as I do. She looked straight into the camera. Take a step back, forget that you want to fuck her, and tell me straight out that if it had been anybody else wearing the body of another person, that you wouldn’t have done exactly what I did.”
He fought a wince. “For Christ’s sake, Reggie.”
“What? It isn’t true? Because that’s what it looks like from the cheap seats. And you know what it looked like on that video? Like Brandy nailed her landlord.”
“Dammit, Reggie, I—”
“She’s right,” Brandy interrupted, then turned her attention to Reggie. “You’re right. About all of it. But you could have told me. Given me some hint as to what I was going to watch. My God...” She trailed off, her hand going to her mouth, her throat moving as if she was going to vomit.
“I am sorry, Bran. But I’m trained not to trust anyone. You had to see it raw. And I had to watch. I had to be sure.”
