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She huffed out a long, tired sigh. “It was a gradual thing. And definitely wasn’t something I planned. I was due to get my birth control shot, and my doctor suggested if I was considering pregnancy, I shouldn’t take the shot. She told me it could take a few months to get the birth control out of my system. Since you were gone so much during that time, I thought I would have time to think more on it and then talk to you about it so we could decide together.”
“But I came home unexpectedly,” he said softly.
“Yes.” She met his gaze unwaveringly. “I never meant it to happen that way. I didn’t even think about it until after you’d left again. And then when I did, I kept reminding myself of what the doctor had said, that it could take several months for the birth control to get out of my system.”
“But that’s not what happened.” Hawke touched her shoulder, needing some kind of contact to make his point. “I want you to know I’d rather have cut my own tongue out than to have said what I did.”
“I know that. And it wasn’t your fault, you know,” she said softly. “No one could have predicted what would happen.”
“No one will ever be able to convince me of that.”
This was a conversation they should have had years ago, when it had happened. But he’d been so stubborn, so furious in his self-righteous anger. He’d handled it in the worst way possible—in the way his old man might have handled it, minus the violence. If he’d ever wondered if Cooper Hawthorne still had an influence on him, that day had proved it.
His gaze moved to the open field before them, but in his mind’s eye, he saw her that day. Saw the pain in her eyes because of his reaction. And then he saw her face afterward. That hurt had been a thousand times worse.
She put a hand on his arm, rubbing in comfort. “Please don’t do that to yourself. It was no one’s fault.”
A part of him would always believe he’d been the cause. There was nothing he could say or do to erase what he’d done.
For several moments, there was only silence. He could only imagine what she was thinking or feeling. She had been put through so much, not only by him but her mother, too.
Finally, she turned to look at him, her face slightly pale, but her expression set with determination. “So, what’s the plan? Do we go back in and try to negotiate some intel from her?”
Refocusing, he said, “We can’t offer immunity.”
“Maybe not for real.” She cocked her head, smiling slightly. “I don’t mind lying to her. Do you?”
“No, not at all. Those low-level insults really got to her. She didn’t like your taunt about being a worker bee.”
Her eyes lit up with amusement. “She didn’t, did she?”
“Just one of the many reasons you’re the perfect person—the only person—who should question her.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re the opposite of her in every way. She resents that. Instead of being her clone, which is what she wanted, you became her opposite, her nemesis. That has to infuriate her.”
“Then let’s head back and start on her again.”
“Olivia, wait.”
“What?”
“I—”
The cellphone in his pocket buzzed. Sighing, he grabbed it and said, “Yeah?”
“You’d better get back here, Hawke. Iris Gates just killed herself.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Olivia stood over Iris’s lifeless body. She looked peaceful, which seemed so incongruent with how she’d lived her life. Olivia had seen numerous expressions on her mother’s face, but never one of peace. She had gone out on her own terms, which was no surprise.
“We searched her,” Hawke said. “Multiple times. How did this happen?”
“Tiny pill beneath one of her fake nails.”
She could have done this at any point during the time she’d been incarcerated. She had waited, though. Was it because of Olivia? Had Iris known she would see her daughter one last time? Or had she done it because she’d realized there was no way out?
