In Her Eyes by Sarah Alderson (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📕

with Gene and his drug dealing. That maybe he’d pissed off the wrong people. It’s not a big leap of the imagination.’

‘So why didn’t you arrest him then? If you were so sure?’

He pulls a face. ‘What for? We questioned him but he refused to talk and we didn’t have enough to charge him. Then along came all the insurance stuff. And suddenly we had enough to arrest Robert. We figured Gene would do the right thing at that point and come forward to get his dad off the hook. But he didn’t.’

I stare at him. ‘So the whole conspiracy to commit murder charge, that was just a strategy? You knew it wasn’t true – that Robert was innocent?’

‘I knew it wasn’t likely,’ Nate says, his eyes on the road. ‘Those add-ons to insurance policies are standard. Any good lawyer would have been able to get that charge thrown out or been able to beat it in court.’

‘I didn’t have a good lawyer.’

Nate shrugs. ‘We were going to let him go but he put in a no contest plea.’

I stare at him incredulous. ‘But you let me believe my own husband tried to have me killed . . .’ I stare out the window. Nate knew Robert was innocent and he still arrested him? And he knows about Gene and the drugs. They’ve known all along. Everyone’s been lying about everything. Nate made me doubt my own husband. Guilt adds itself to the slush of emotions I feel towards Robert.

Nate glances over at me again as I stare dumbfounded out the window. ‘My guess is that Gene didn’t come forward and Robert isn’t talking because Raul threatened you.’

I try to keep my expression blank. Robert might still be in danger if I talk.

‘Am I right?’

I turn to glare at him. ‘What does it matter? It wasn’t Gene. And it wasn’t Robert who organized the break-in. And it wasn’t Raul either. It was your own damn partner! You need to let Robert go,’ I shout. ‘He shouldn’t be in jail.’

‘He’ll be out by tomorrow,’ Nate answers.

I let my head sink back into the seat and try to put the jumbled pieces together. Jonathan was the deputy who pulled Gene over that fateful day eighteen months ago. He knew Gene was dealing but he let him go so he could keep him under surveillance. But then he must have decided at some point it was more lucrative to rob him than to arrest him.

With a sudden jolt, a memory flashes from that day we went to pick up Gene from jail. Hannah was talking to someone when I came out of Nate’s office. It was Jonathan, now I think back on it. They were flirting.

Did they stay in touch? Was something going on between them even before they reconnected in the hospital? I remember the other day, how I walked in on them in June’s room, both red-faced. I thought she was upset about June, but what if they’d been arguing? Had she guessed his involvement in the crime and confronted him? Was he threatening her – forcing her to stay quiet?

A deep shudder wracks my body when I think of all the times Jonathan asked me how June was doing – the fake look of concern on his face. I think about the time he was meant to be guarding the door but was strangely absent from his post when the attack on June happened.

It takes us almost thirty minutes, even driving at ninety miles an hour with lights flashing, to reach the turn-off on the 33 that leads down Lost Canyon Road. I spend the entire journey on the edge of my seat, trying not to think the worst about what might have happened. Please let her be alive. That’s all I care about.

I place my hand inside my bag and grip the gun. If this man, Calvin, has hurt my baby in any way whatsoever, I will kill him.

It’s getting dark as we make our way through the canyon, which is deep in shadow. It’s a dead-end road, twenty miles long, ending in a state park and nature reserve where I sometimes hike. Towards the park end of the road there are a few ramshackle old houses hidden away in the trees. There’s an air of Deliverance about it – dusty pick-up trucks and boarded-up windows, tire swings hanging forlornly from gnarly tree branches. In the summer the risk of wildfires makes it a fairly treacherous place to live, and in winter when it rains there are flash floods, which wash the road away and cause mud slides. On top of that, there’s only one way in and out and no cell-phone reception.

We drive in silence, counting up the numbers, until Nate slows to a crawl, his headlights illuminating a mailbox with the number 3598 on it. The name Williams is written there in boxy white letters.

It’s fully dark now. Nate kills his lights and pulls the car over to the side of the road. We peer through the trees. It’s pitch black, no moon, and it’s hard to make out the shape of a house, though a golden light flickers in the distance, indicating something’s back there.

‘There!’ I say, pointing. ‘Do you see that?’

About one hundred meters down the dirt drive there’s a van parked beneath an awning. We can’t make out the license but I know that’s the van. Nate seems to be hesitating.

‘What are we waiting for?’ I urge.

‘Back-up. We need SWAT. We don’t know how many of them there are or if they’re armed.’

‘We need to get in there,’ I say. ‘What if something happens to Hannah? What if she’s hurt?’ I grab for the door handle. I’m not just sitting here waiting for back-up. Not when my daughter’s in that house. Nate grabs my arm and hauls me back.

‘OK. I’ll go in but you have to stay here.’

I think about arguing but finally nod.

Nate moves to get out the car but then stops and turns back to