Page 205
Still, I don’t have to wonder long about why he did it.
His whole life was destroyed.
His career. His reputation. His marriage. His family.
Everything.
Sienna gives me a moment before continuing.
“So that’s one suspect we can officially cross off the list. I don’t know if you’ve been keeping count, but that list is getting significantly shorter by the day.”
When I don’t respond, she snaps her fingers in front of me.
“Max. Did you hear me?”
I blink and look at her.
“We don’t have a lead. Not one that doesn’t somehow circle back to you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Goddammit, Max, wake up and smell the fucking coffee.” She points at the untouched mug between my hands. “Thanks to the Reds, everyone and their grandmother thinks you’re involved somehow.”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
“And since when has this town ever needed something as inconvenient as the actual truth?” she shoots back. “You know better than anyone what a rumor can do in Fairhope. People hear something often enough, they stop asking whether it’s true or not and just accept it as fact.” Her tone takes on a sharper edge. “And I’ll be damned if I stand by and let this town destroy your life a second time.”
My eyes begin to sting, but not because of what Delaney’s death could mean for me.
All I can think about is Mrs. Collins having to rebuild her life after watching her husband’s reputation get ripped apart, and the three children he left behind. Two little boys who had to grow up without their father, and a little girl who probably barely remembers him now.
Suddenly the possibility of Fairhope accusing me of murder feels insignificant compared to what that family lost.
“Oh, fuck. Don’t cry.” Sienna immediately drags her chair around the table until she’s beside me. “Max, I didn’t mean—”
“I’m the reason he killed himself.”
“What?”
“I’m the reason his life went to shit.” The words come faster now, tears spilling before I can stop them. “His job. His marriage. His kids. Everything that happened to him started because of me.”
“Max—”
“It’s all because of me.”
“Keep your voice down,” she warns, sliding a few napkins across the table. “You are not responsible for what happened to Mr. Collins or his family. None of this is your fault.”
“Then how come it feels like it is?”
I lean into Sienna and cry against her shoulder while she runs a hand through my hair, letting me get it all out. She has never been particularly good with emotional displays, but to her credit, she doesn’t pull away either. She just keeps stroking my hair while I soak her shirt with tears.
“Okay. Cry it out. Mourn him if you have to,” she murmurs. “But only for a little while, okay? Because right now, I’m more worried about the living than I am about the dead. The dead can’t do anything to help this situation anymore.”
“No, they can’t,” a familiar voice says above us.
Sienna’s hand immediately stills.
I wipe my tears away and look up to find Chief Neptune standing beside our table. It’s been years since I’ve seen him this close, and time has left its mark. There’s more gray than black in his long hair, which falls down his back and is loosely gathered at the nape with a simple leather tie. The same Native American medallion I remember him wearing all those years ago still hangs around his neck, proudly resting against the front of his uniform.
