Then Ty had helped her nurse the tiny bit of warmth.
“Because I did love you,” she said with certainty. “Because deep down you know I loved you. I made a mistake and it cost us. Are you going to let it wreck the rest of your life? That’s not the man you want to be.”
“How would you know the man I want to be?”
“Because I’m not me.” She chuckled softly. “You’re arguing with yourself. I’m a ghost. I don’t exist anymore. Not here. Not with you. I’m that piece of Jessie you’re holding on to. Maybe I’m the part of you who wants so badly to forgive.”
“Why should I forgive you?”
She stared at him for a second, a deep sympathy in her eyes.
He took a long breath. “Why should I forgive me?”
“That’s the right question. And you know the answer. You’re not all knowing. You are arrogant, and it’s costing you.”
“I don’t feel arrogant.” He felt weary.
“If a friend came to you in similar circumstances, how would you react? Would you tell your friend that he was responsible for someone else’s actions? Would you tell your friend that he obviously shouldn’t allow himself an ounce of happiness because he hadn’t seen what his girlfriend was doing?”
“Jessie, you died.”
She nodded. “I did and that wasn’t your fault, and until you recognize what you are truly feeling, you won’t be able to move on.”
“I think I know…” He stopped because he did know. He’d known all along and he hadn’t wanted to face it, couldn’t handle what he’d really felt. So he’d allowed the emotion to become one he could handle, one he could hold up high.
He’d taken the agony of his sorrow and shaped it into rage. Instead of embracing the grief of losing her, he’d turned it all into hate so he wouldn’t have to feel the shame of being tricked.
Shame. It was a useless, hateful thing. It did no good, robbed him of the chance to move forward.
It robbed him of his humanity, his grace and goodness. It made him hate, and he’d turned it inward. It froze him in place and allowed no sunshine in his life.
It took away his faith.
But he could take it back.
He stood up, something infinitely warm washing over him. “I’m sorry, Jessie.”
She sighed and stood, keeping a careful distance between them. “Me, too.” Her lips curled up slightly, a bittersweet expression. “You won’t see me again. I won’t whisper in your head anymore, but you have work to do.”
He nodded. “I know.” He moved to her and held his arms open. “Thank you for the good times we had. Thank you for leading me here because I think I’m going to stay.”
“I think you’re home.” She hugged him, squeezing him tight. “Good-bye.”
Michael woke up, the sun filtering through the curtains.
And knew what he had to do.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucy sat in the gloriously beautiful suite that Nate had taken over as his base of operations and wondered where Michael had spent the night. She prayed he hadn’t tried to get back to his place. The snow was still falling this morning, and she couldn’t stand the thought of him getting hurt.
“You found it in Ty’s bathroom?” Nate held up the container. He’d bagged it before examining it.
“Yes, she found it when she went looking for tissues.” Ty frowned. “I don’t actually have any of those. I use toilet paper when I need to sneeze.”
“I was crying,” she reminded him. “I don’t suppose you do a ton of crying, so you can be forgiven.”
“Was it in a closet you use often?” Gemma had her notepad out again, and there was a serious look on her face that let Lucy know she would pull her away at any given moment.
“Closet?” Ty snorted. “You’ve spent too much time in this suite. I don’t have a closet in my bathroom. I have a shower, a toilet, and a sink. She looked under the sink. I keep a few rolls of TP and cleaning supplies under there.”
“I moved some stuff around,” Lucy admitted. “I found that in the back. Obviously it’s got my prints on it.”
“I’ve already taken her prints. But I’ll need to process the bag.” Cam Briggs was still in his pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, a mug of coffee in his hand. When they’d walked in, he’d been on the phone talking to his wife about how he was stuck up here.
Because someone was trying to frame her for murder. It was completely surreal. Ty had moved the cyanide the night before and talked her into sleeping on what to do about it. She’d let him since it was clear it had been left for the state investigators to find, and there was no way they could get to the lodge before morning. Ty had needed time to be comfortable going to Nate. She’d always known they would be here this morning. She wasn’t about to fall into the trap of trying to cover up the cover-up.
“We’ll see if we can find any others,” Nate promised. “Ty, you’re sure this isn’t some cleaning product you use?”
“No,” Ty replied with surety. “We can check with the cleaning staff, but I know they wouldn’t store any cleaning product like that. It would go against protocols. Everything has to be labeled. Is there any way it’s not what we think it is?”
Cam shook his head. “I wouldn’t bet my life on it. It’s either cyanide or something like coke. The cocaine would be to give you a reason to have killed Brock.”
“Why would I kill Brock over cocaine?” Lucy wasn’t sure she followed Cam’s line of reasoning.
“Brock had cocaine in his room,” Nate replied. “They could claim you supplied him with the coke and killed him when he wouldn’t pay. I would bet whoever’s behind this has figured out the connection between Ty and Sawyer.”
“Sawyer doesn’t deal drugs,” Ty said, his voice going hard.
Nate held a hand up as though holding off the argument. “I know that. Sawyer and I have come a long way. We’re good, he and I. But he’s got a reputation, and if I was going to set Lucy up, he would be part of the narrative. Whoever this is obviously knows a lot about the two of you. Enough to know she’s staying with you.”
“Apparently lots of people know that since there’s a betting book at the Trading Post,” she pointed out. “But why would anyone want to set me up for this?”
“Because someone knows you fought with Brock.” Cam put down his mug and glanced around. “Shouldn’t Michael be here? Anyone wake him up? It’s getting late.”
“He took off about an hour ago,” Nate informed the room. “He said he had something to do, and he would be back later.”
“Then he was here?” She couldn’t believe the amount of relief that flooded her system. “He stayed here last night?”
“Yes,” Nate replied. “He did.”
“And he was totally worse for the wear,” Gemma added. “Like he’d been doing some serious thinking. Not drinking, but he was weird. He talked to Nate and asked what was going on in the investigation and if he could help. Politely. Something was wrong with him.”