“That isn’t why.”
“Why, then?”
“It humanizes him.”
“I see. What are you planning to do, Decker?”
“While we’re able to resolve certain things from what was on the drive, there are many more questions that remain unanswered.”
“Who killed Sybil?”
“Yes. Also, there’s the question of your parents’ divorce.”
“What of it?” My mother was dead. What difference would anything that happened with their marriage make now?
“Keep in mind that I am only theorizing at this point.”
“I’m aware of that, Decker.” I stood and walked back over to the bookcase, my fists clenched tightly. I was so angry I was shaking, but who was I mad at? My father? Sybil? Adler? Marshall? Or was I angry at Decker? “I’d appreciate it if you’d get to the point.”
He stood too. “Okay. Here’s the point, Mila. Based on the argument your father had with Marshall after he instructed you to go up to his office and wait for him, I believe there’s a reasonable chance he raped your mother.”
“‘She looks just like her—’ He was talking about my mother.”
“There was something else he said, ‘The best revenge of all was that you didn’t believe her.’ Marshall went on to say that he blew up your father’s life.”
“You’re thinking that my father realized Sybil wasn’t his when she needed a blood transfusion?”
“Adds up.” Decker stepped closer to me, and I stepped back. “What’s going on, Mila?”
I didn’t know. I couldn’t explain why, but the idea of Decker touching me made my skin crawl. “I’d like to be alone,” I said, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. “Maybe go back to the old house.”
“Okay. We can do that. I’d like to meet with Rile first.”
I turned my back to him. “Okay.”
“Mila?”
“It’s a lot to process, Decker.”
32
Adler
“Who in the hell are you?” I said to the woman sitting on the arm of my sofa when I walked into my apartment and flipped on the light.
“I’m here to talk about Sybil Knight’s murder, Adler,” the woman said, calm as she fucking could be.
“How did you get in here?”
“Think you’re the only person who knows how to break and enter?” She unfolded her arms as she spoke, revealing a gun.
I threw my arms up and motioned toward the gun. “Whoa, that is not necessary. Who the fuck are you?”
The woman stood and walked over to me. “Who I am isn’t important. What’s important is I don’t like swearing, so you’ll stop that now.”
I ran my hand through my hair. With or without a gun, this woman was scary as shit. Didn’t help that she was dressed all in black leather in the middle of fucking July. “What do you want?”
“I already told you. You’re going to tell me everything you know about Sybil Knight’s murder.”