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Well, this opened a whole new can of worms.
Tyler had a secret he wanted to share with Ben about the safety of his mother. What would be so important that someone would kill Tyler to keep it a secret?
I would need to speak to Michaela Bakewell as soon as possible. The timing wasn’t great, but if someone was going to hurt her, too, I couldn’t afford to delay this conversation.
“What are you going to do about this?” Ben asked. “And what the hell makes you think you’re qualified to investigate?”
Really? The guy who had lived at home his whole life thought he could do a better job than me?
“I was in Nexus until two weeks ago,” I said. “I’d say that makes me more qualified than you.”
Ben scowled.
“Listen, I don’t like this any more than you do, but I think we need to stay in touch about this,” I said.
“Ugh.” Ben spat on the ground but at least had the decency to turn his head away from me to do so. “For all I know, you could be lying about this just to mess with me.”
“Funny how you’re accusing me of being that monstrous when you just attacked me.” I eyed the pile of garbage bags where the athamé was buried.
Ben followed my gaze, his eyes narrowing. “I have no reason to trust you.”
Well, he had me there.
I folded my arms. “Did you ever think that this isn’t about you? This isn’t about the stupid feud or our families. This is about finding Tyler’s killer, and if Michaela is in danger, it’s about keeping her safe, too.”
Ben ran a dirt-streaked palm around the back of his neck as his gaze softened.
A long pause hung between us.
“I’m going to do some digging,” he said eventually. “If you find anything, tell me. Got it?”
“And vice versa,” I said, holding out my hand for a handshake. “Do we have a deal?” This wouldn’t be a one-way arrangement.
“Fine.” Ben took his other hand out of his pocket, and I glanced at it to make sure he had nothing offensive in it.
He hesitated before he took my hand and shook it. My skin tingled under his touch, and I snatched my hand back the second the gesture was complete.
Ew. I hoped he didn’t use his garbage hand.
Ben pointed a finger at me, but I stared him in the eye, ignoring it. “If you do anything to sabotage this, you won’t have to wait for the next baby for an Arrowood to die, understand?”
I batted his hand aside and stepped into his space, our faces inches apart. He swallowed hard but didn’t step away.
Ugh. His cologne smelled amazing.
“Don’t threaten my family and I won’t threaten yours. Agreed?” I said.
“Fine.”
With that, Ben turned his back on me and waded among the garbage bags to look for his athamé.
I took that as my cue to walk away, the imprint of his touch lingering where he had shaken my hand.
The moment Ben and I shook hands on our ‘intel treaty,’ I was determined to find a new lead before he did.
Tyler’s concern for his mother’s safety gave the murder theory slightly more weight, but it didn’t exactly point the finger at anyone.
So, later that afternoon when I walked down the stairs to see Dad putting his coat on with a wrapped up homemade lasagne, I mentally cancelled my plans to scoff ice cream with Sandra and Isadora in front of the TV.
