“All things that could’ve been copied,” I answer softly.
“Or done the exact same way because it was the exact same killer,” Jordan says, refuting my argument without even raising his eyes from the paper.
I scan my notebook one more time before dropping it back to the table. “I think that’s about everything the Internet will be giving us today.”
Jordan sighs and sits back in his chair, stretching. “So what’s next?”
I’m quiet for a moment, debating whether to ask the question I have on my mind before diving in. “I don’t suppose your dad would be open to answering questions you asked him about the new murder, would he?”
Jordan stiffens and I regret asking almost instantly.
“I’m sorry…”
“No.” He shakes his head and gives me a sad smile. “You couldn’t know this. It makes sense for you to ask, but my father and I haven’t been speaking much lately.”
“Oh.” Now I feel worse. I figure we really have no room for secrets anymore, so I don’t hesitate this time. “Why?”
“A lot of reasons,” he begins, and when I wait in the quiet, he continues. “He doesn’t agree with my choices lately, I guess.”
I groan. “Join the club.”
“Yeah. First I quit football, then I stop hanging out with my friends.” He runs his fingertips across the table and looks so deep in thought that I wonder if he remembers he’s talking to me. “But I haven’t been around constantly to watch Matthew all the time either. So he thinks I’m doing something to rebel, like drugs or drinking—”
“Or hanging out with the daughter of everyone’s favorite death row inmate?” I fill in with a rueful chuckle.
He rewards me with a big grin. “Yeah, or that.”
“That sucks. I really am sorry.”
“Yeah.” Jordan shrugs. “I am too.”
I try to think of a good backup option for getting information on the newest case, but my brain comes up empty.
Fear churns like a spinning pit in my gut. I know that I want the truth, but until this moment, I never considered the possibility of never truly knowing.
Daddy is Daddy. He’s loving and warm and stunningly smart. I’ve always wanted to be more like him. How can that man be guilty?
But this isn’t just about who he was. It’s also about who he is. It’s part of who I’ve always been, part of who I am. If he was a murderer—still is a murderer—that would make me the daughter of an honest-to-God serial killer. If that’s who he is, then I’m the girl who has spent her life defending a monster. I hate the very idea of being that girl.
But if I am, I refuse to be kept in the dark by his lies anymore.
Opening my eyes, I see Jordan studying me, his features tight with worry. His warm earthy eyes meet mine, and I can see him bracing himself for my next move. Still, all I can think is to wonder what he sees when he looks at me.
Does he see the daughter who believes in her father’s innocence against the odds?
Or does he see the fool with the DNA of a killer, who believes a liar when everyone around her knows the truth?
Whatever he sees, he’s here when he probably shouldn’t be. He keeps my secret even from his own father when, in truth, he owes me nothing. He helps me when anyone else would’ve ditched me after my drunken shenanigans in the park.
I climb slowly to my feet, and Jordan does the same. Without meeting his eyes, I walk forward and reach both arms around his waist for a quick hug. “Thank you.”
He wraps both arms around me. “This isn’t over yet, Riley. Don’t give up.”
His words and closeness steal my breath away. I step back instantly because it’s clear from that one moment that he is worse than any drug. All my nerves fire off in response to the way he smells, the way he feels, the way he looks at me. When I’m not furious with him, he creates his own brand of potent intoxication.
He’s a drug I can’t become hooked on, because I know he’ll leave eventually.
“Okay then.” I turn and close my laptop, then my notebook, and stack them up. “We’ll just get the information another way.”
Jordan watches me, curious. “What do you have in mind?”
“My father used to be a lawyer. I mentioned it before, but his former partner is a close family friend and he’s represented Daddy in all his trials. He knows this case better than anyone.” I twist my lips to the side, thinking for a minute. “Maybe he can help me.”
“When are you going to contact him?”
“I’ll go to his office Monday.” I stretch my arms up, trying to relax the tight muscles down my back. “I’m in kind of a time crunch here, and he should have all the case details with him if I meet him there.”
He jumps in quickly. “I have to watch Matthew, but I should be done early, around eleven.”
I freeze in my semi-stretching position. “Uh, I’m not sure if—”