The night before the trial Cam, Jess, and Mike came over for dinner, a first without the kiddo who stayed with his grandma. Per usual, Emma had cooked up a feast, and Jessie brought a selection of beverages to go with the coconut chicken curry and garlic naan. Tonight, Cam had something to say, and her hesitancy made everyone nervous.

"I might as well come out with it," Cam grumbled, setting down her fork. She could feel the tension at the table, and there was no reason to draw it out. "Taylor turned down the plea bargain. He really should have taken it."

"He's pleading innocent?" Mike asked with a mix of hope and confusion.

"Not exactly. His lawyer put in for accessory after the fact. Taylor swears he was framed, and that the murder weapon was blackmail."

"How?" the tablet squeaked. "By who?"

"This will all be revealed during the trial, but please, don't say a word until it comes out. It would mean my job and worse." When everyone nodded, Cam continued. "According to Taylor, he knew the Colacurcios would come collecting soon, so he stashed his dirt bike in the woods just in case they showed up, and he needed a quick getaway. That day, he saw their blacked-out SUV pull in. He didn't want his secretary in harm's way, so he told her to go pick up lunch and tell the men coming in to head straight to his office. Then he walked back in and snuck out his window.

"His plan was to go fishing with Wyatt after all, hoping to convince you to help him with the money, but when he got there, he um... he said that he uh, he watched Lisa kill you. He ran over and was about to jump in and pull you out, but he said Lisa pulled a gun on him. Apparently, she gave him a choice, die or keep quiet. He opted for the second option, and according to him, Lisa forced him to hold the bat to incriminate himself as leverage for keeping your murder a secret.

"She walked out with it, and he decided no one would believe him, so he tied up the boat, made everything look normal, and took the title to offer as collateral to the men waiting in his office. His secretary was still gone when he returned. So he made the deal, sent them on their way, and she came back with lunch, seeing him at 12:45, right where she left him."

The entire table was stunned and more than a little skeptical.

"That's bullshit," Jess said with a sad shake of her head. "Lisa is hardly bigger than Emma. There's no way she clocked a man as big as Wyatt hard enough to kill him."

"Technically, the blow didn't kill him. It knocked him into the water, and Wyatt drowned," Cam clarified awkwardly.

"She was the captain of her softball team," Emma said softly.

"What?" Cam asked, her face pinched in horror.

"It was middle school, but I'd imagine once you learn how to swing, it would be like riding a bike. She was head cheerleader all through high school, and for all her flaws, her body isn't one of them. The woman has stayed in shape," Emma admitted with a curl of her lip.

"Emma's right, but Lisa was in Seattle," Mike sighed. "Her boss confirmed that."

"Her alibi was false," Cam said with a contemplative nod, sending Mike's eyebrows to his hairline.

"But her car was seen near the restaurant she claimed to be at," Emma added.

"Then she was lying about who she was with," Mike grunted.

"If so, could she have attacked Em for talking to her old boss?" Jess asked. "They were seen on the front page in those gossip rags."

"I looked into that. Lisa's car never left the parking garage at her condo," Cam sighed.

"How hard would it be to rent one?" Wyatt typed into the tablet.

"Checked that, too, but her name didn't come up with any of the Seattle car rental services," Cam shrugged.

"Lisa doesn't have the patience for traffic. When she visits, she usually takes the ferry. If her car didn't move, she could have rented one in Southworth," Mike suggested casually.

"But she has no connection to Wyatt's old truck," Emma said. "That seems too far-fetched."

"I agree, but she could have done that the day of my murder. If she was in town, it may prove my brother is telling the truth," the A.I. voice read.

"Dammit," Cam growled, pushing back from the table with her cell phone already in hand.

"Guess you just extended her investigation," Jess said with a rueful smile, rubbing Mike's bicep.

"If Lisa killed you, do you think she attacked me?" Emma asked Wyatt.

"It was Taylor who watched me drown, so I'm not convinced Lisa had anything to do with this. We already know he doesn't mind letting other people take the blame for his actions," Wyatt said softly. She reached for his hand, slipping her fingers into his balled-up fist.

"I'm so sorry, but if he is telling the truth, maybe he really didn't have a choice."

"Then he watched me die, didn't even try to save me or make an anonymous call or something. And he kept it a secret for years and let Mike take the heat. Hell, he probably would've let him go to jail, all to cover his own ass."

"True, but if it's as he said, Lisa has him. All the evidence points to Taylor. It's a battle of he said, she said, and she's holding all the cards."

"Why are you defending him?" Wyatt asked her with no anger. He didn't understand how she could find it in her to give Taylor any benefit of the doubt, not after everything he had done to her.

"I'm not. What he did was terrible and wrong on so many levels, but thinking he killed you has been tearing you apart. This might be a little easier to digest. Your brother always seems to be the selfish type, so choosing his safety and future over anyone else's seems par for the course."

"We're only getting one side of this conversation, brother, but I second Emma's thoughts. Tay has always been about Tay, since we were kids."

"Do you guys think he's telling the truth?" Emma asked.

"No," Jess scoffed. "All the evidence says he's guilty. Time, motive, opportunity. He admitted to being there. He needed the money. He watched his brother sink to the bottom of the marina yet had the presence of mind to tie up the boat, take the title, and settle his debts like nothing happened. What kind of sociopath does that? His prints are on the murder weapon, and do you really think Lisa poured concrete in Wyatt's basement?"

"What if they were working together?" Emma mused, choosing her words carefully. "Taylor might be telling a partial truth, but something doesn't add up. He walks in to see her swing the bat, so where does the gun come from? Taylor loved you, loves you. If you saw him standing above the water, then his first inclination was to run over to save you, but why didn't he jump right in? Was that enough time for her to pull a gun? And if she had one, why risk only hurting you with a bat? Why not shoot you? Also, your brother isn't a pushover. I'd imagine they would have fought, or he would have sought revenge after. But to do nothing for years... we're missing something."

"I agree," Cam said, coming back into the dining room. "There's still the matter of the life insurance money and the fact they split it. I've got Myers digging into car rental companies at all the ferry stops. If we prove Lisa was in Shelter Cove that day, my bet is that they planned it together. Taylor needed money, and Lisa wanted a clear path to marry Mike, but the policy was left in her name. Unfortunate oversight there, Wyatt," she said with a pitying look.

"I knew it was in her name," the tablet read off as he typed. "The oversight was thinking she would come back to me."

"I really hate that woman," Jessie snarled.

"She makes the term ice queen seem warm and fuzzy, but I'm not sure who actually swung that bat. My gut and the evidence say Taylor. If she really was there, maybe she kept it as collateral so he couldn't turn on her after the money had been split," Cam shrugged, shoving a forkful of curried chicken in her mouth.

"My brother and my ex-wife," Wyatt said, choosing not to type his thoughts for the room. "All I did was love them. I gave them everything I could."

Everyone watched as Wyatt's chair scraped back from the table, and he slipped out the back through the mudroom off the kitchen. Emma started to go after him, but Mike reached out to stop her.

"Let me talk to him."

"Here," she said, handing him the tablet.

Mike didn't plan on doing much talking. He knew Wyatt needed time and space to let all this information sink in. The woman he had given his heart to potentially conspired with the family member Wyatt loved above all others, someone he would have done nearly anything for, and together the two of them killed him and covered it up for a stack of cash and a chance at living their own dreams. That would be a lot for anyone to hear in one conversation.

Wyatt didn't want to talk about this anymore, so he was glad when Mike just stood next to him staring out at the moonlight casting shadows over the backyard. He felt the phantom brush of Mike's hand on his shoulder. It wasn't really the squeeze his friend intended, but there was a fluctuation in pressure to the shirt Wyatt was wearing. It was enough.

His mind was reeling. It was one thing to think Taylor had done it. It was another to think he and Lisa had planned it together, especially after Tay's vehement disdain towards his ex during their drinks the night before. Wyatt had nearly punched his brother for calling Lisa a bitch. Was that how he got the idea to call her? Seeing as Mike had talked to her that afternoon, essentially postponing their wedding indefinitely, Tay would have reached out when Lisa was already hurt and pissed. It  wasn't that much of a leap.

He had told Taylor he wasn't going to bail him out, so maybe he asked her for cash in exchange for getting Wyatt on board with the marriage. He couldn't have known about the life insurance money, so was that how she convinced him? Did they make the plan that night? Taylor just had to choose when and where to do it. Lisa probably wasn't even there.

"Let it play out in court," Mike said quietly, reading Wyatt's thoughts.

'Even if Tay's telling the truth, he can't prove it. My brother always had shit luck. Now, he'll go to prison for the rest of his life.'

⚞❖⚟

Emma hadn't planned on going to Dockside, but Wyatt had been in his darkroom for hours, and she needed a break from all things 'death.' The trial lasted a whole three days in which no one bought Taylor's story of being coerced into silence. The man walked away with a house, a boat, a truck, a quarter million dollars, and all of Wyatt's savings and retirement. Did it make him a rich man? Not particularly. Did it get him out of trouble with a well-known crime family? Absolutely.

It didn't help his case when he could provide zero proof in his defense. Taylor was accusing the extremely wealthy owner and CEO of a multi-million-dollar company and challenging the alibi given by a socialite worth billions. Lisa Landers and Madeline Van Tromp would have been difficult to accuse even with undeniable evidence of wrongdoing. Add in Taylor's history with gambling, alcohol, and overall foul disposition, and the judge had no problem making a decision.

Now, Taylor was serving a life sentence in the Washington Corrections Center not twenty minutes down the road. He had been there for a little over a week, and Wyatt was still here. Emma saw that as an answered prayer, her wish given life... in a manner of speaking, but it had only made Wyatt more irritable. He believed his existence was proof that his little brother was telling the truth or at least wasn't the only one to blame. He was convinced his existence meant something was left unresolved, but after facing that possibility once, Emma had no interest in digging any further.

"Hey Jess," Emma groaned, taking a stool at the end of the bar. "Can I please get some loaded cheese fries extra bacon, extra ranch."

"One of those days," Jess noted with a sympathetic grin. "I've got you covered."

Once she had a heaping plate of salty grease and a tall lemonade, things felt just a little bit better. Emma watched the comings and goings around the bar, locals that she knew by face if not all by name. Many of them said hello or stopped by for quick small talk. It was too early in the day for the regulars she was more accustomed to seeing, like Mack and his mechanic buddies or Wick who ran the home security company. Cam would be getting off shift soon, and she had texted her to join if she wanted.

"So," Jess said, propping her hip against the counter as she dried a glass, "I'm assuming this is about Taylor and Wyatt?"

"Yeah. I think Wyatt might be even more distraught now that Taylor's been sentenced. It's different though. Before it was shock and hurt. Now, he's angrier and more determined to find out what really happened."

"He thinks there's more to it?"

"Yup. He doesn't fully buy Taylor's version, but he's convinced there are still secrets. Like why is he still here if justice has been served? Who ran me off the road? Why did Lisa lie about her alibi? Whose name is on that storage unit? And the splitting of the life insurance money still doesn't feel legit to him. To me either if I'm being honest, but I also don't see how Lisa could have been involved."

"Yeah, there are definitely loose ends, but when it comes to Wyatt's murder, everything is pretty wrapped up. It's all that happened afterwards."

"Hmm, that's a different way of seeing it," Emma pondered, dipping a loaded fry in the creamy dressing.

"So you left your man at home to brood?"

Emma huffed a laugh. "More or less. He's definitely got that whole tortured artist side, and I'm getting to see it up close and personal. But you should see some of the stuff he's creating."

Emma pulled out her phone to show some of the prints Wyatt had been designing while playing with multiple exposures, composite printing, and selective development. She thought his afterlife knowledge was showing in his work. The photos he had taken on their date in Olympia had a spine-chilling quality with the stark winter trees, dark empty playground, and winter-wrapped historic downtown. He overlaid bundled up tourists, happy families that were fading into the image as if lost or not entirely there. It was beautiful and, in a way, sad or perhaps nostalgic.

"Holy shit," Jess gasped. "These are amazing. Think I could get some for the bar? This place could use a little art, and those haunted pics of the pier and sailboats would be great for here."

"Yeah! Do you want me to get them matted? Wyatt has actually been making some really cool frames, too. Look," she said, swiping the photos further along.

"He made these?"

"Told you, tortured artist. Add in not having to sleep, eat, or take breaks and the man has been a machine."

"He could sell this stuff. You should get him a website or an Etsy store. I bet galleries would take some of these photos in a heartbeat."

"That's a brilliant idea. Wyatt hates not having his own income. Being a photographer is all he ever wanted. Maybe he could fulfill that now."

"With everything being online these days, it wouldn't be hard for him to have a fully functional life even as a ghost," she shrugged easily.

Fries and lemonade turned into bison burgers and G&Ts as soon as Cam showed up that evening. She looked downright haggard, and neither Jessie nor Emma pressed for details until the weary cop was on her third IPA.

"Wyatt's murder may be a closed case file, but the attack that nearly killed you is still ongoing," Cam grumbled. "I was so certain it was the Colacurcios covering their tracks, but now that we know they had nothing to do with Wyatt, there's no motive for them going after you. The gray Jetta was a rental, and get this, the name on the rental was the same name as the lease at the storage facility, Sandra Raye Gibson. Does that ring any bells?"

"Sandra Raye Gibson," Emma repeated, racking her brain. "No."

"I didn't think it would but better to check. Ask Wyatt, will you? Whoever she is has connections to both him and you. The car was rented in Bremerton, a stop north of Southworth and one of many ferries from Seattle. If we go by Taylor's story, whoever this is stole Wyatt's old truck after you had moved here and had started asking questions. The rental agreement at the storage lot confirms the timing. Sandra Raye Gibson rented the unit on January third."

"I hadn't done much by that point. Documents and research."

"Girl, you had been seen talking to Cam a few times, requesting microfiche at the library, checking out the rentals at the marina, and there's the fact you bought his old house."

"You're also the only person who has ever stayed," Cam sighed.

"And hadn't you already made an appointment with Taylor's secretary? That could have made him nervous," Jess accused with a purse of her lips.

"And he saw me with Wyatt in the boathouse, even heard him speak through the tablet," Emma muttered.

"So we're back to Taylor. He murdered Wyatt and was terrified you were about to figure it out, but who the hell is Sandra Raye Gibson?" Cam snarled, clearly agitated by all the runaround.

"Enough about all of this. I came here to get away from it," Emma stated firmly. "Jess, we need to hear all about you and one sexy oyster mogul. If little Wyatt is to be believed, you went with them to Grandma's house the other day."

"Really," Cam drawled with her classic smirk. "Meeting the parents, huh?"

"It wasn't like that," Jess said sheepishly, a flush painting her bronze cheeks. She and Mike were going strong, and everyone knew this was more than a crush. Those two were well on their way to wedding bells even if it took some time given how stubborn they were.

"Oh, was there another reason for going to see his mother?" Emma asked coyly.

"Okay, fine. It was exactly like that," Jessie admitted with an actual giggle.

"And another one bites the dust," Cam grunted with a shake of her head.

"You're next Cam," Jess warned.

"Why would you curse me like that. I've been good to you," Cam whined.

"Don't you want love?" Emma interjected.

"I have love. I have you two. Don't you want some peace?" Cam retorted.

"Honestly, yes, but that's not Wyatt's fault. It's something that came with choosing him. But I'm definitely ready to live a simple, drama-free life with the man I love. He can do his photography. And I can edit and... write."

"Write?" Jess drawled with a waggle of her brows. "I didn't know you write."

"It's what got me into the publishing world, but I never had the courage to submit any of my work."

"What do you write?" Cam probed as innocently as a cop can.

"Well lately, I've been writing my story, starting with the day I walked in on Todd and Kimmy. I'll pitch it as fiction, but if you know, you know," Emma winked.

"Oh, I love that. Will I be in it?" Jess asked excitedly.

"Of course. It may never get past my laptop, but I'll let you know."

By the time Emma returned home, she was feeling lighter and more encouraged than she had been in days. It seemed time alone with his art had improved Wyatt's mood as well. He met Emma in the driveway, promptly tossing her over his shoulder and taking her inside caveman style. The dominance didn't end there. Wyatt had been busy while she was away, and he fully intended to christen the now complete room in the basement.

For the next several hours, murders, trials, and the afterlife became nothing more than whispers for someone else to deal with. Nothing existed outside of Emma's rosy, stimulated skin and Wyatt's undivided attention. He brought his little bird to the edge of opposing sensations that had her torn between begging for more and screaming 'lemon.' There were several orgasms in there, liquifying Emma's mind and body, leaving only a vague memory of Wyatt gently washing her before tucking her into bed and trailing soft kisses across her face, shoulders, and chest. It was as close to perfection as Emma believed possible, and she closed her eyes knowing everything was going to work out in the end.

The next few days were a mix of moving on and slogging through. Wyatt had been ecstatic about the idea of putting his photographs in Dockside. He was less confident about the idea of selling his art online or pitching it to galleries, but he agreed to think about it. Emma was thrilled to be sharing Wyatt's photography with the world. Everything seemed to be taking a turn for the better until a letter arrived by private courier late Wednesday afternoon. It was addressed to Wyatt Scott.

"Wyatt," Emma called from the top of the basement steps. "Are you down there?"

"What's up?"

She gasped and jumped, spinning around to find a grinning ghost standing right behind her. Staring him down with a disapproving scowl, she smacked the envelope into his chest.

"Stop doing that," Emma grumbled.

Wyatt chuckled, taking theenvelope. "What's this?"

"I have no idea. It was just dropped off for you."

"For me?" Wyatt said quizzically, looking at the manila paper. "This is Tay's writing."

A spectrum of conflicting emotions burned through Wyatt's chest as he ripped open the seal and pulled the paperwork out.

Dear brother,

I trust Emma to give this to you. It is the title to your boat and to your truck, which is currently at the impound lot. I had to put them in her name, but she seems the sort to do what is right. All of your retirement investments are now transferred to her as well. Just have her sign the papers inside. Hopefully, she'll take care of you as she once told me she would.

It is much too little, too late, but it's the closest thing I have to an apology. I would have left you the BMW, but I had to sell that and pay off a few debts before getting locked up. Otherwise, my new accommodations may have been short lived.

The lease at my place runs out at the end of the month, so go over and take whatever you want. My spare is hidden in the same place as always if you need it. I never told you this, but I went back and got Mom's wedding ring out of hock. Figured you would get married again, and I could come swooping in with it as a surprise. Guess we never got there. It's in my sock drawer, tucked into the only Christmas pair at the back.

I sold off the business when I was out on bail. It paid for the jackass lawyer who couldn't even negotiate a plea bargain. A trusted colleague will be putting any remaining money into my inmate account. Hope commissary has Skittles and popcorn, seeing as my whiskey days are over. Fuck.

Anyway, I just want you to know I'll be fine. You've always been a worrier. I am so sorry. I really messed everything up, but you have to believe me. I NEVER would have hurt you, and I sure as hell didn't kill you. ... I didn't save you either. Most of what I said was true, the relevant parts. I saw Lisa swing the bat and send you into the water.

Listen, I have no right to ask for anything, but I pray one day you can forgive my part in all of this. Maybe I can make amends in another life. I made some serious mistakes, and you may have survived if I had been a better man, but I DID NOT play an active role in your murder. I was a witness, a coward, and a greedy bastard. But I'm not a killer.

I love you, Wyatt. Always have. Always will. Check in on Mom and Dad for me, will you? We haven't spoken since your funeral. Mostly because I couldn't bear the guilt.

Your Asshole Brother, Taylor

Emma read the words alongside him and found herself speechless as she watched Wyatt's eyes glisten. This was as close as he got to tears, and she knew if he were alive, they would be streaming down his face. She wrapped her arms around him and waited until he was ready to speak. There was nothing she could say anyway.

Wyatt pulled out the official forms including the titles for his twenty-seven-foot Scout and the Chevy Silverado, both showing Emma Lee Porter as the new owner. He wasn't sure what to make of all of this. It was more honesty and emotion than Taylor had shown in years, which was the exact reason he was inclined to believe every word.

"Will you come with me, to his house?" Wyatt asked sullenly.

"Of course. I'll go get the keys."

Taylor's home was about what Emma had expected, a bachelor pad in desperate need of a good cleaning and something other than leather and brown. But they weren't there for renovations. Still, she took the time to wash the dishes and clean out the fridge while Wyatt went through all of his brother's things. Taylor had a couple of rubber totes with junk that Wyatt dumped out before re-filling them with family photo albums, random keepsakes, and some books. He found his mother's ring and tucked it safely away, biting back another wave of emotion.

He wondered if this was what Taylor felt when he died. Going through his brother's things made it clear Tay was gone, and he wasn't coming back. That was as close to death as Wyatt could imagine. His little brother would not be coming home. The letter took some responsibility, but if it really was Lisa, that meant it was all Wyatt's fault. He was the one who fell for the tough twelve-year-old with pale blonde, twin braids. He was the one who held onto her all through high school knowing what they valued in life wasn't on the same wavelength. He just stupidly believed he could give it to her.

And twenty-two years after inviting the devil into his life, he was the one who decked his best friend and refused to accept their marriage or future happiness. Taylor was just along for the ride. This was all his fault.

"Hey! Hey!" Emma yelled, rushing into the bedroom when she heard breaking and crashing. Wyatt was tearing the place apart. "Wyatt!"

She watched as he crashed to the floor, one knee drawn up to brace his forehead as his shoulders shook with pent up emotion. Emma didn't know what to do, but she wasn't about to leave him there. Slowly lowering down beside him, she gently ran her fingers across his broad shoulders.

"Talk to me," she whispered. Wyatt turned and collapsed against her chest. "Oh, love. I wish I could take it all away."

Emma rocked him in her arms as he sobbed dry tears. Her man was carrying everything on his shoulders, and she had no idea how to help him. Or maybe she did. Once Wyatt pulled himself together, they loaded up the things he wanted to keep into the RAV and drove back to the house. She helped carry everything inside and down to the basement before heading back up to start on dinner. The eggplant parmesan was nearly done by the time Wyatt reemerged.

"Smells good," he said, kissing the back of her neck. "Sorry about my tantrum earlier."

"That wasn't a tantrum. Emotions like that are always better out than in, at least my therapist always said so."

Wyatt snorted. "I'll take your word for it. As for my old truck, we should sell it. There's no reason to keep it, and I actually hate the idea of something that almost killed you in the front yard."

"If that's what you want," Emma agreed, pulling out the crunchy sourdough bread. "I was thinking, you should go visit Taylor. You could pop right into his cell, and no one would be the wiser. It might make both of you feel better, and I have a feeling a good long talk is necessary."

"That's sweet, but it's not like he'll have a tablet handy."

"But he will have pen and paper. You can write just fine these days. Your relationship doesn't have to be over, and I would venture that seeing you would be a very welcome surprise. He wouldn't feel so alone."

"Do you believe him?"

"About Lisa swinging the bat, I think so, but how he's involved, not really. Though I'm not sure how to get anymore answers."

After dinner, Wyatt decided to take Emma's advice and check in on his brother, but only once Cam arrived to keep her company. Having never been inside the prison, the best he could do was pop into the main building. The rest was walking around the thousand plus cells. Luckily, he found Taylor after about twenty minutes, and while it was nothing dire, it still broke his heart. He was stretched out on his back, staring up at the top bunk. Doors were closed and the lighting was dim, but Taylor's eyes were open. It appeared his bunkmate was already asleep, so Wyatt slipped in and took a look around.

The cell was small, hardly room for two people, with stacked metal beds bolted to the wall, an exposed stainless-steel sink and toilet in the far corner, and a fixed seat under the built-in desk. There were a few shelves, and it was obvious what space belonged to which inmate. Taylor's area was mostly empty, but as Emma had said, he found a pencil and paper. Not wanting to rattle his brother when he was most likely already paranoid, Wyatt wrote a quick note and folded it enough to toss in Taylor's direction.

Shh. It's me, Wyatt.

As expected, Taylor jolted upright, but other than a raspy intake of air, he stayed silent. Unfolding the sheet of paper, his eyes instantly scanned the room, and Wyatt waved the pencil in the air. He walked over and sat next to Tay, mostly hovering off the side of the small bed, but it didn't bother him.

Wyatt!! Why are you here?

I got your letter. I'm still pissed and hurt, but I love you, brother. I'll do whatever I can to get to the truth. Maybe even get you out of here.

I'm never getting out of here. Got life, no parole. Me and the judge had some bad blood because I took a shit ton of cash from him at a poker game. He was all too happy to give me all he could.

Fuck, Taylor. You really did most of this to yourself.

But I didn't kill you, Wyatt. Do you believe me?

I do, but I'm not sure I believe your entire story. Feel like telling me the whole truth?

Not particularly. I gave you the important parts.

Did she really have a gun?

Her words were as effective as bullets.

That's a no, isn't it?

Take it how you want it. No one believes a word I say anyway.

Dammit Tay, I'm leaving if you can't be straight with me.

I was about to jump in, I swear, but she made some good points. Save a dying man and fight a court case where she would deny everything. She kept saying you were already dead and that playing hero would only cause more problems. It's not an excuse, man. I'm a shitty fucking person and deserve to be here, but I didn't kill you.

You might as well have. I wasn't dead yet, Tay. If you had jumped in, I would still be alive. We could have told the truth to the police, and Lisa would be the one in prison, not you.

Perhaps. Or she was right. I chose to save myself and let you go. Like I said, shitty. I'm being honest. I'm so fucking sorry.

Tell me, if you could, would you do it differently?

Honestly, I'm not sure. If I knew you were alive and would be at my side in a fight against the she-devil, yeah, probably. But if I thought you were dead or going to die, probably not.

You're a selfish fucking prick, Tay. I would have died for you. Hell, I did. You're telling me, all she did was threaten you, and you let me drown? You stayed silent just to avoid possibly not being believed?

There's only so many apologies I can give, brother. And as you can see, I was right. So was she. I'm going to rot, and your murderer walks free.

I thought coming here would help patch things up between us, but we're well and truly broken. You're not family anymore. No brother of mine would do what you did. At least you got paid. Hope it was worth it.

Wy...

Wyatt didn't stay to read any more of Taylor's bullshit. All the pain he had felt was quickly coalescing into a ball of rage in his chest. There was only one place that he could let this kind of anger go—the same place it all began. That's how he ended up sitting on his boat in the middle of the bay, screaming up at the stars. 

⚞❖⚟

"I have that IPA you like," Emma offered as she and Cam walked back to the kitchen.

"Sure, I'll have one. Where'd Wyatt go?"

"To see his brother."

"What?" Cam gasped in shock.

"Taylor left us the boat, his truck, and a letter you should read. Neither of us think it's got all the facts, but Wyatt believes what's there is true."

"Then let me see this letter."

Emma handed over the bottle of beer and Taylor's letter, swearing Lisa killed Wyatt. It took a moment for Cam to read, so she made herself a fresh cup of coffee while she waited.

"Well, shit. Pretty much what he said in his statement which means I'm still missing pieces. We followed up on Sandra Raye Gibson, single mom, nurse, living in some fairly rundown apartments in Seattle. She had no clue who you were or that a car was rented in her name, and hospital employee logins confirm she was on shift the night you were ran off the road.

"We got the video surveillance from the rental car company, and a woman much smaller than Ms. Gibson came in for the car. She had the same brown hair, but her clothes looked nice. If I showed you a picture, think you could tell me anything?"

"Worth a try," Emma shrugged, taking Cam's phone. "Well, that's a Birkin bag, gold edition, worth upwards of thirty grand. Would the nurse be carrying that?"

Cam whistled low. "The nurse could barely pay for groceries and rent in the same month."

"Let's look at Lisa Landers' social accounts. That bag isn't exactly one of a kind, but they're fairly exclusive to the elite. "

It didn't take more than a few clicks to see Lisa standing with the exact same gold Birkin bag at a grand opening for her latest oyster bar in Seattle.

"What's the connection between her and Sandra Gibson?" Emma cogitated aloud.

"I've got an idea," Cam said, the full force of her detective energy taking over. She snatched her phone and dialed Myers at the precinct. "Hey Myers, I need you to look into something for me. It's about that hit and run on Emma Porter. Yeah, I still think it's tied to Wyatt Scott's death. I know, I know. Call it a hunch. It's only a little digging. You're just sitting around anyway. Yeah, fine. I owe you one. Find out if Sandra Raye Gibson rented a car anywhere in Seattle or in any of the towns on the ferry route August fifteenth to nineteenth, five years ago. Thanks."

"You think she's been using this woman's identity for that long?" Emma asked, stunned.

"Might as well check. It would line up all the pieces, right? We're going to do a little research of our own. I want to know where Lisa lived and worked from the day she moved to Seattle. I got my laptop in the car. Be back in a sec."

An hour later, Emma knew more about Wyatt's ex-wife than she ever wanted to read. The woman was tenacious, she'd give her that.

"How old are Sandra's kids?" Emma asked.

"Eight and twelve. Why?"

"It says here that Lisa worked for a temp agency her first year in Seattle. Her listed skills were childcare, personal shopper, and personal assistant. Think she was a babysitter for a hot minute?"

"Guess I'll be calling that temp agency in the morning. Hopefully, they won't require a subpoena for records."

"Will this be enough to press charges?"

"Not at all. It's just enough to confirm my gut and get the chief to sign off on further investigations. We still have no evidence that shows she was connected to Wyatt's murder, and that bag won't hold up as proof that the woman in the video footage is indeed Lisa Landers, but it's a start. Enough coincidences give us probable cause."

Cam left for the night, and Emma decided a long, hot bath was in order. That's where Wyatt found her when he finally returned. Without a word, he stripped down, and Emma spread her legs for him to sit in the curve of her thighs. When he laid his head back on her shoulder, she didn't need to ask. It was obvious things had gone badly, so she held him, running her hands over his large biceps and firm chest. When the water finally cooled, Wyatt lifted her from the tub, and they silently dried each other before heading into the bedroom.

That night Emma softly made love to her giant of a man, and he let her. Wyatt couldn't remember if he had ever been cherished or touched the way he was at that moment. Pain was radiating from him, and she was determined to heal it with soft caresses from her hands and mouth. When she straddled him, his groan was deep and low as he gripped her hips with possession and longing. This was exactly what Wyatt wanted and needed.

"I'll never tire of your touch," Emma purred, relishing the feel of him. Seeing his expressions, hearing the deep timbre of his voice, feeling warm flesh stretched over a lifetime of muscle, things so normal, and yet she would never take them for granted again. Every day was a gift with Wyatt, one that could disappear without warning or explanation, and she knew it was only a matter of time before his case was blown wide open.