Page 145 of Dead Pretty

If someone wants to get close to you, they will.

Jack … he got close to me.

The same ache in my chest appears that I always feel when I think of him.

I press the heel of my hand against my sternum, trying to ease the hurt away.

But I know nothing will ever take away the pain of what happened.

Even though I remember very little of that night.

Only waking up and getting a glass of water. Spilling it on the floor.

And then nothing until I woke up in the hospital.

The weird part though is, I’m sure that I saw Cole that night. In my apartment.

But I know that can’t be right because Cole wasn’t there. He was in Chicago.

I haven’t told Cole that I thought he was there.

I don’t know why I haven’t told him, to be honest. Every time I open my mouth to voice the words, something stops me.

Maybe it’s because I know how crazy it sounds.

I can’t remember Jack trying to kill me. But I have a false memory of my brother being there.

I mean, the only reason I know what happened that fateful night is because of the police.

Detectives Peters and Sparks.

They came to see me in the hospital. They wanted my version of events from that night. I told them the very little I did know, which was nothing of worth.

The whole time I spoke, Detective Sparks looked at me with this cold expression. Like he didn’t believe me. Like it was me who had done something wrong.

He said nothing. Not one single word in the time he was there. It was unnerving.

It was Detective Peters who informed me that Jack was dead. That I had killed him in self-defense after he attacked me, stabbing me first. That it appeared that I had discovered that Jack was the killer of Molly Hall, Natalie Jenkins, Sarah Greenwood, and Michael King. That I had found the murder weapon—the knife he tried to kill me with—in a first aid kit in his apartment along with some of the victims’ personal items.

They knew my real surname. My history with Tobias. That Jack was his older brother.

Hearing all of those words … it broke me. Knowing that Jack had been there all along to kill me. To finish what his brother had started. That I had been right in my worst fear.

Only … I knew Jack. I know that I am always the one to say that you never really know anyone, and that undoubtedly is true in this case.

But there’s just something … deep inside of me niggling away. Bothering me. Like an itch that I can’t reach.

Jack had so many opportunities to hurt me, and he never did. Not once. Until he did.

It’s just … hard to piece it all together. Understand everything.

Curling my hand around my wineglass, I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to find those hidden memories. That itch in the back of my mind.

If I could just …

Stop.

I blink, shaking my head.