Fallen (Seven Deadly Sins #2)(28)
Author: Erin McCarthy

He didn’t want to be her demon.

And he needed to back off emotionally.

But not before reassuring her that he thought she was amazing.

“I think that’s great that you addressed the issue so quickly. It took me a long time to admit I had a problem, and even longer to actually do something about it. You should be proud of yourself for facing it head-on, and fixing it. I totally respect that.”

“Thanks. I feel better. I do. I’m kind of a control freak, and I didn’t like being out of control in my life.”

Gabriel knew that control was a fine line between screwing the lid so tight on your emotions you couldn’t breathe inside, and reckless, scattered explosion. “Do you have any idea as to who killed your mom? Or what went wrong in the investigation?” It was rude to ask, but lack of answers drove her, that was obvious. It had driven her right into the grip of sedatives, and right out of the state of Florida.

Sara pulled her skirt tighter over her legs, but she didn’t balk at the question. “I don’t know who could have done it, I really don’t. If it wasn’t Rafe, which I truly believe it wasn’t because, first of all, he loved my mom. And second of all, I saw him drive off in the opposite direction that night. We were at dinner, and we all parted ways. She was killed only an hour later. And I think the investigation stalled because from day one they thought they had it solved by turning to the obvious. They didn’t even look into any other possibilities as far as I’m concerned. So any other leads they might have had are dried up by now, I’m sure.”

That was probably true. Which showed a failing on the part of the justice system, but then again, there had probably been no other direction for them to investigate. “They had a lot of trace evidence. Did they test everything?”

“There’s the irritating part—they would never tell me exactly what they had and didn’t have. They couldn’t disclose that information . . . She was my mother and they wouldn’t give me any details. All I know is that hair and clothing fibers on her matched Rafe, which made sense since they were just together at dinner and he was in her house frequently. In her bed frequently, I’m sure. They had been dating for a year.”

“That must have been frustrating to you . . . being a forensic scientist yourself and not allowed access to the data.”

She nodded. “Oh, yeah. Very frustrating.”

Gabriel made a mental note to see if he could get the court records now that the trial was over. He was curious about that trace evidence, as well as a few other things. “Did Rafe frequently spout Bible quotes during the trial?”

“Bible quotes?” Sara looked confused. “Rafe? I don’t think so. Though I wasn’t there for the majority of the trial. Why?”

That was interesting. Too random to ultimately be random, given the complexity of the quote from Rafe Marino that Gabriel had read in the paper. “I just read an article where he was quoting the Bible, referring to living a righteous life.”

“Really?” She looked skeptical. “I never thought of Rafe as a religious kind of guy.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Maybe it was the stress of the trial. But Sara, I’m sorry, I really am, that the case has gone cold. But maybe there will be some new evidence, maybe they’ll solve it still. You never know.”

Her head tilted. “Come on. Do you really believe that?”

If they had taken a man to trial and he’d been acquitted, then no, he didn’t believe they would ever locate the killer. Maybe the man they’d tried really had done it. Maybe he hadn’t. But the odds were very much against the police and the prosecutor ever accumulating enough evidence to actually try someone else for the crime at that point. So he told Sara the truth. “No, I don’t really believe that. I think it’s done, and you’re left trying to figure out how to deal with the fact that there will never be justice for your mother.”

Sara stroked her cat’s head steadily, looking out the window behind him. “Yeah. That pretty much sums it up. And I appreciate your honesty. I get tired of people giving me ‘look on the bright side’ speeches. There is no f**king bright side. Even if they convicted someone, what does it matter? My mother is dead, and her last minutes on earth were torture. And yes, I have to figure out how to live with that, how to go forward.”

The curse from Sara surprised him, but he actually took it as a positive sign. She was venting, in a controlled way. She was letting it out, without losing it. That was a good thing. “Yes, you do.”

“Do you know that there’s no such thing as instant death? That if a person’s throat is slit, they are still conscious, unable to make a sound, as their arterial artery bleeds out enough volume of blood to cause death. So they’re aware, on some level, as the killer stabs them in the chest, the stomach, the face, and they can’t do anything about it. They’re helpless.”

“I know.” It was another layer of his guilt, that he could not die, but mortals did and could, painfully and slowly. That Anne had suffered that way while he had slept in a pleasure fog. “I know a lot about murder.”

Suddenly she laughed, rubbing her face with the palms of her hands. “God, we’re a pair, aren’t we? Call us Gloom and Doom.”

“Okay. I’ll be Doom, you can be Gloom. Though you’re going to have to ditch the kitten if you want people to believe you’re macabre.”

Her eyebrow went up. “What’s wrong with Angel?”

“That. You can’t be depressed and sour with a kitten named Angel. It’s an oxymoron. And I refuse to wear leather pants, by the way, so I think we’re going to have to give up our plan.”

“We’ll have to be happy?” Her mouth tilted up in the corner.

“I’m afraid so.”

“I guess there are worse fates.”

Indeed there were.

Sara’s cell phone rang. “Do you mind if I answer that?”

“Go right ahead.” He put his headphones on, classic rock blaring, so he wouldn’t hear her private conversation, and turned back to study the breakdown of the ingredients in absinthe. Ethanol—definitely psychoactive. Wormwood— arguably, though it was virtually impossible to determine how much might have built up in an absinthe abuser. Especially since it could be toxic at high levels, yet Gabriel had been immortal. So there was no telling how much had been in his bloodstream at the time of the murder. Nor had he been drinking quality absinthe at that point. He hadn’t cared enough to spend top dollar when a cheap substitute would get him drunk just as fast. It probably had been filled with lead and other filler metals.