Chapter 23 · Deal at Cinder Bridge

Evan grabbed the back of my jacket before I could step onto Cinder Bridge.

“Don’t.”

I looked at his hand. Blood had soaked through the dirty bandage around his palm again. His fingers were shaking so hard they barely held on.

“Let go,” I said.

“Nia.”

“I said let go.”

Below us, the river slapped black water against the bridge supports. Not hard. Just steady. Like it had all night to wait for something ugly to happen.

Evan’s jaw worked once. “Dad said alone.”

“Dad also said he’d tell me why Mom died.”

“And you believe him?”

“No.” I pulled free. “That’s why I’m here.”

The old bridge had been closed for years. Half the lamps were broken. The rest buzzed over cracked pavement and rusted rails. Somebody had painted over the road signs, but I could still see the old letters under the black spray paint.

CINDER BRIDGE.

Cute name for a place where people liked to burn evidence.

Evan stayed behind the concrete divider at the entrance, exactly where I’d told him to. He had a stolen pistol tucked into the front of his jeans and a knife in his boot. Not enough. Not even close.