Set Me Free by London Setterby

Author:London Setterby
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Interstitial Storytelling
Published: 2016-07-07T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

I sat on the bench, numb and speechless, while Mrs. Gautier made an awkward goodbye and said something about having my painting at the Graveside. I hardly heard her. My body and soul split apart, shattered, particles cascading across the universe.

It couldn’t be true. Owen would never hurt anyone.

I thought about the way he’d grabbed Scott by the throat after the fire at the Lodge, and how unbearably cold he’d been to me yesterday at the Widow’s Walk, even though he could tell I was upset.

I’d felt a pull towards him since practically the first moment I’d met him, as if I’d known him in another life. But the truth was that it had only been a couple of weeks. And I was the same stupid girl who’d moved to Connecticut with Rhys after only a month.

I hugged my knees to my chest and pressed my face to the denim of my jeans. What kind of man kept his dead girlfriend’s self-portrait locked in his spare room?

He had promised to tell me everything, but all he had told me was that he and Suzanna had dated. He had let me believe that the town didn’t like him because he’d tried to have Suzanna all to himself. He’d let me feel sorry for him—and all the while, he’d been keeping this from me. That he’d been accused of killing her—Beloved By All.

I swept my hair back from my forehead, trembling. Could this possibly have been what he’d wanted to tell me—at the Widow’s Walk, of all places, on the morning after?

How could it be? There had to be something else—some other secret, dividing him from the town. Some other explanation for Suze’s death.

Slowly, clumsily, as if I were underwater, I turned on my phone and dialed Owen’s number.

It rang and rang while I tried not to think about what I was going to say.

Then, horribly, it went to voicemail.

I listened to Owen’s deep, even voice asking me to leave him a message, and wanted to cry.

It beeped.

“Hi. It’s Miranda.” My voice cracked. “If you have a moment…I would like to know what you were going to tell me yesterday. I just heard something about…Suzanna…and I…”

My face burning, I hung up. Of course I had to go all stiff and proper and British.

Memories circled me like vultures: his hands on my skin, his scent, his gentle laugh.

Feverishly, I stood up and grabbed my paints. I had to know more. I had to know everything.

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