Chapter 13 Reasonable Doubt

Chapter 13 Reasonable Doubt
Cade

I shut the door to my private office and turned the lock. The click sounded final in the quiet hallway. I stood there for a second, my forehead pressed against the wood. My heart was thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I told myself I just needed clarity. I needed one detail, one simple confirmation to prove that my mind was playing tricks on me. Sloane was upstairs. She was probably confused. She might even be crying. I hated that I had caused that, but I couldn't stop myself. Not after what she had just said.

I walked over to my desk. It was a heavy piece of dark wood that felt like an anchor in the room. I reached for the bottom drawer on the right and pulled out a small, silver key from my pocket. I unlocked the drawer and reached into the back, past the legal papers and the emergency cash.

I pulled out Lily’s notebook.

It was a small, black ledger with a worn cover. The corners were folded over, and the edges were frayed. I hadn't opened it in months. I had avoided it because looking at her handwriting felt like reopening her death. It felt like her ghost was in the room, watching me. I took a deep breath and sat down in my chair.

I opened the first page. The ink was smudged in places, and her handwriting was frantic. Lily was never a neat person when she was excited about something. When she was on a trail, she wrote like she was running out of time.

I started to read. Her notes weren't orderly. There were no names and no clear accusations. It was just a collection of observations that didn't seem to fit together at first.

Access without oversight, one line read.

Not staff. Not guests, she had written lower down.

I flipped through the pages, my eyes scanning the messy ink. My stomach tightened when I saw a phrase that she had written several times. She had even underlined it twice.

Consultant visiting properties—same dates as concerns. Need to identify.

I stared at that word. Consultant.

Back then, the word wouldn't have meant much to Lily. It was just a question mark in her notes. She was just curious. But looking at it now, it felt like a lead pipe hitting me in the gut.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. I started to pull up Sloane’s work history, cross-referencing the dates she had mentioned to me over the last few hours.

Harbor City was in March.

The Downtown property was in June.

The Lakeside hotel was in September.

I opened my laptop and pulled up the police reports from Lily’s investigation. I looked at the windows of time when the girls had disappeared from the Hartford properties.

Two of those dates lined up perfectly.

I felt a cold sweat break out on my neck. I told myself it meant nothing. I tried to find a logical reason. Sloane is a hotel consultant. Her job is literally to be at these hotels. She is paid to walk the halls and check the rooms. Of course she was there. It was her job.

But Lily had noticed the same overlap. My sister, who was the smartest person I knew, had flagged someone who wasn't staff, wasn’t a guest as a person of interest.

I scrolled through the margins of the notebook. There were lots of question marks. There were underlined dates. But there was no follow-up. There was no name written down.

Lily hadn't figured it out yet. The realization hit me hard. She had died before she could finish her notes, before she could decide whether she was wrong.".

I felt a wave of dizziness. What if Lily was wrong? What if she was just seeing patterns where there were none, and she still died just for noticing too much?

Or worse. What if she was right? What if I was standing exactly where she stood right before the end? What if the person I was letting into my bed was the person Lily was trying to catch?

I shook my head. "No," I whispered to the empty room. "Not Sloane."

I pulled up Sloane’s firm website on my computer. I looked at her client list. It was all there. Legitimate businesses. Famous hotels. The Hartford properties were listed right at the top. Everything had a reasonable explanation. Every trip she took had a paper trail and a purpose.

That was the part that scared me the most. A real threat wouldn't look obvious. A real killer wouldn't stand out. Lily didn't chase people who looked like villains. She looked for the people who blended in.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Polaroid the woman had given me in the garden. I looked at the photo of Sloane smiling.

I began to reframe everything. The woman in the garden hadn't been making a threat. She had been giving me a warning. Someone wanted me to start questioning Sloane.

There were only two possibilities. Either someone was manipulating me to make me turn against the only ally I had, or they were trying to show me something I was too blinded by love to see.

Both options were terrible. Both options meant I couldn't trust my own heart. I realized in that moment that I wasn't neutral anymore. I wanted Sloane to be innocent so badly that it hurt. I wanted her to be the girl I remembered from five years ago.

But that desire made me dangerous. It meant I wasn't thinking clearly. Lily had trusted her gut. Lily had trusted herself.

I realized I didn't trust myself anymore.

I looked at the notebook again. If I was wrong about Sloane, I would destroy the woman I cared about. I would break her heart and ruin her life for no reason. But if I didn't check, if I just ignored the evidence, I would be betraying my sister. I would be letting Lily down all over again.

I couldn't do that. I had to know for sure. I couldn't keep living in this house with a woman who might be capable of something unforgivable.

I closed Lily’s notebook carefully. I put it back into the drawer and locked it. I felt like I was putting away a piece of her soul. I stood up and paced the small room.

I needed an outside perspective. I needed someone who didn't care about Sloane. I needed someone who only cared about the facts.

I thought about Sloane’s face in the kitchen. I thought about how she looked so sincere. She looked so real.

But then I thought about Lily. I thought about her cold body and the way the police had just closed the case like it didn't matter.

I picked up my phone from the desk. My hand was steady, but my mind was screaming at me to stop. I looked at my contacts. I scrolled down until I found a name I didn’t think I would need again.

I stood there in the dark office, the light from the phone screen glowing against my face. The weight of the choice was crushing me. I wanted to put the phone down. I wanted to go back to the kitchen and tell Sloane I was sorry. I wanted to believe that everything was just a big coincidence. But I knew I couldn't. I wasn't just a man anymore. I was a brother.

I tapped the number. I didn't scroll. I just stared at the contact for a long time. The silence of the house felt like it was waiting for me to make a move.

I didn’t call yet. I just watched the screen go dark. I knew what I had to do, but I wasn't ready to start the fire. Not yet.