Split(99)

He’s right. If I report it, the fact that this is my town, that I grew up here, should give me an edge the other reporters don’t have. I could line up some interviews; the people here trust me.

“I guess it could work.”

Trevor laughs. “Of course it’ll work. With you we have a direct connection to the victim as well as a possible connection to someone related to the Menzano Massacre.”

I step back as if I’d been slapped. “Lucas has nothing to do with this.”

“Lucas?” Trevor’s eyes pop open, wide and hungry. “You’re telling me the Menzano who is here in town is the f*cking killer himself?” He presses his palms to his forehead, absorbing the information and practically giddy with excitement.

My dad’s eyes narrow on me. “Lucas ain’t a murderer.”

Trevor laughs. “The hell he’s not!”

“Hold on!” I roll my lips between my teeth, searching for calm in a situation that’s about to spin out of control. “Trevor, I’ll help you if you keep the story about the Shadow. Lucas was already on trial and found innocent.”

“Who cares? It’s sensationalism, sure, but it’s Los Angeles for crying out loud. They don’t want the truth; they want a good story.” His eyes get a faraway look and he scratches his jaw. “We need to talk to the victim. You can set that up, right?”

“No, no way. I’m not helping you frame an innocent man and exposing my friend to this bullshit.”

His face gets hard and he steps in close. “You want the LA job? Get out of this dirt town for good? Because I’m telling you right now, Shy, this is your in.”

A job in Los Angeles is tempting. I’d be free of Payson and its memories, make all my career dreams come true. Go back to a life of detached emotions and save my heart from being rebroken by Gage. The cost? Losing every single person I care about.

I can’t do this. I can’t continue to alienate myself, build walls so high I become the callous career-driven person I was on track to be. Become like Trevor, who no longer sees people as living, breathing, feeling beings but as stepping-stones that’ll lead him to success.

I’d rather experience the pain of loving than be numb to human suffering.

My muscles tense. I move into Trevor’s space, and even though he’s taller, I feel bigger as he shrinks beneath my gaze. “Go home. There’s no story here, at least not one you’ll get from me.”

“Shy, don’t be stupid.”

“Trevor.” My dad’s growled warning has my ex’s eyes darting between us.

A knowing look hits his eyes and his lips twitch. “Mr. Jennings, you’re aware that you’re currently employing an accused felon.”

“Trevor, don’t—”

“Don’t believe that for a second.” My dad pushes up from his leaned stance at the counter and crosses to us, his eyebrows dropped low.

“Dad, he’s lying.” I turn to Trevor, pleading with my eyes and praying he’ll let this drop.

Trevor crosses his arms at his chest as if they form a barrier between us, making him impenetrable to my nonverbal message. “Lucas was accused of killing his entire family when he was only fourteen years old.”

“If that were true, he’d be in prison.” My dad’s voice is heavy with skepticism and for the first time since I can remember, I’m grateful he’s stubborn as hell.

This will be easy. All I have to do is create enough doubt for my dad to dismiss Trevor and kick him out of the house, and we’re all good.

“Just because O. J. Simpson is walking the streets doesn’t mean he didn’t commit double homicide.”

My dad’s jaw twitches, but that’s the only reaction he gives away.

I could strangle this *. “Shut up and get out!”

Both Trevor and my dad ignore me.

“Did you know he was tried and only got off because everyone’s fingerprints were on the weapon and the angles of the entry wounds were questionable?”

“Stop it!”

“That he managed to conveniently forget the murders, trick lie detector tests, and brainwash people into believing he had no recollection of the murder of his seven-year-old sister—”

I lunge to shut him up. “Stop!”

My dad holds me back.

“. . . ten-and twelve-year-old brothers . . .”

I struggle in my dad’s arms and will Trevor to get lockjaw before the final words fall from his lips.

“. . . and his own mother before turning the gun on himself.”

“Prove it.” My dad’s voice rumbles against my back.

“Google it, Mr. Jennings. Lucas Menzano is a mass murderer who was lucky enough to get off on a couple of technicalities and is now living in your town. Working for your company and cozying up to your daughter.”

My dad’s grip loosens and I sag against him, absorbing his strength. “Leave my house. Now.”

“Shy, don’t kill the messenger.” Trevor has the f*cking nerve to smile.

“Get the f*ck out of my house!” I go after him again, but my dad holds me back.

“You heard her, City Boy.” Barely controlled anger drips from my dad’s words. “Get gone.”

He laughs humorlessly and throws his flabby arms into the air. “Fine. I’ll get the story without you.” He moves to the door, swings it open, and turns back, glaring. “Missed your chance, Shy. Guess you’re not as driven as I thought.”