Dark Sins (Dark Intentions #3) - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,3

to figure out what happened. I do have to get to the bottom of this.

If someone did hit him and someone did leave him out there to die, or at least didn't report it, or maybe worse, was under the influence of drugs or alcohol, Michael deserves for me to find out the truth.

We pull up next to Marguerite and Lincoln's house in the Hamptons and get out of the car.

"I hope it's okay that I drove back here. I wasn't sure where to go, and we were so entrenched in our conversation ..." Dante starts to say, but I just put my finger over his mouth.

"It's fine. This is great. I want to see Allison again and we have that dinner invitation."

"So you want to go?" His eyes light up. "You want to stay another night here?"

"Yeah, I think I want to.” I nod. "I want to process all of this and figure out what happened and what I can do."

He leans over and gives me a warm hug. "It's going to be okay," he whispers into my ear, "I'll help you."

3

Dante

On the drive over, my heart is racing. My palms are sweaty.

Darkness envelops me, and yet I have to maintain this facade, this happy outlook as if everything is fine and nothing is bothering me.

But the truth is that the appearance of the letter has put my whole life on hold. I know very well that the contents of it are true.

Jacqueline doesn't.

She thinks that it might be a scammer or someone who's just wasting their time, but I know that her brother was murdered.

It is just one of the many secrets I'm keeping that I have no right to keep but I can't stop.

If I tell her now, if she were to find out, she would never forgive me.

No, I’d lose her for sure, and that's why I have to keep this a secret.

I drive back to Lincoln's house in the Hamptons.

I'm only partially relieved by the fact that she got into an argument with her mother and was basically told to leave. On one hand, I could pursue the lie.

I can convince her that what she believes is true, that there are lots of crappy people out there who will make up a story like that just for fun, for nothing, but another part of me wants her to know the truth.

So, I split the difference.

I suggest something happened that's in this netherworld between the two. I don't know how far she can go to figure out who sent the letter.

If the person has buried their tracks right, she won't be able to find out a thing. But still, I can't help but mention the fact that it might have been an accident or a possible hit-and-run.

I've already said too much, and I have to think about myself in this situation as well.

I had nothing to do with Michael's death directly, and I had nothing to do with sending that letter.

We get to the Hamptons and the sun is high in the sky. The streets are getting crowded with tourists and locals going about the lazy days of summer.

Jacqueline rants almost the whole drive back, and when we finally pull up and I park the car, I try to calm her down a little bit, put her at ease.

I feel like the biggest scumbag for doing this, not telling her immediately what I know, but the problem is that I don't really know much. If she were to know what I know, then she wouldn't want to be with me anymore.

We walk up to the front door, and just as I'm about to ring the doorbell, Marguerite opens it with a large beach bag slung over her shoulder. Lincoln is arguing with her, insisting that he doesn't want to go to the beach and has a lot of work to do, but she's not taking no for an answer.

"You're going to join us, right?" Marguerite asks, pointing in our faces.

Her tan face is hidden by the broad, wide-brimmed hat and her bathing suit is covered by a diaphanous coverup. Despite the pregnancy or perhaps because of it, I've never seen her glow as much as she has the last couple of days. She still has her issues with my mother, but they've been avoiding each other, and this time with Jacqueline has really made a difference.

Marguerite pulls Jacqueline aside to show her a book that she's been reading. Seizing the opportunity, Lincoln drags me into the