You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 637

In the Cloud Peak kitchen, Patricia emptied her basket of lemons into the sink, sprinkled them with salt, and gently rubbed each one clean. The lemons looked bright and plump, their golden color almost cheerful in the morning sunlight. When she finished, she placed the shiny lemons back into the basket, one by one.

Meanwhile, out in the county jail’s interrogation room, sunlight slipped through a narrow barred window and fell across Emerson, highlighting the thin, faded gray of his prison uniform. It looked almost see-through, like worn-out silk. Dust floated in the beam of light, drifting in the slow, heavy silence.

Time crawled by.

Brandon’s eyes moved from the dust to Emerson’s face. “You said you weren’t the only one who planned Jason’s car accident. Who else was involved?”

Emerson sat across from him, perfectly still. The light seemed to freeze him in place, trapping him in a moment that wouldn’t end. He looked less like a man and more like a statue, unmoving and silent.

A detective sitting nearby glanced from Brandon to Emerson, impatience creeping in. “Emerson, did you bring us here just so you could sit there and say nothing?”

“No.” Emerson finally spoke, his voice rough from disuse. “I just haven’t figured out how to say it yet.”

Brandon’s voice softened. “Just tell us what’s on your mind. We’ll handle the details.”

“It’s been years. How are you going to check any of it now?”

Who would believe him after all this time? Who could he talk to about the things he’d endured, the bitterness he’d carried? History always favored the winners, and now, Patricia was the one holding all the cards. Emerson knew he was being pushed step by step into the trap she’d set, powerless to escape. He was nothing but a pawn in Patricia’s game.

Brandon shifted in his seat, watching as the sunlight slid across Emerson’s face, dividing it in half. One side glowed pale and almost transparent in the light, fine hairs catching the warmth. The other side was lost in shadow, deep lines etched into his skin, his eyes sunken and hollow, like a dried-up shell.

He blinked, his lashes trembling in the light like the wings of a dying butterfly. The sunlit side of his face looked alive, even gentle. The side in shadow seemed already gone.

Brandon thought of the old shadow puppet shows he’d seen as a kid—thin puppets controlled by someone else, unable to move on their own.

“You know, even if you don’t say it, we can guess. There were two sets of fingerprints on that old report, not just yours. But after so long, evidence disappears and people forget. Without someone willing to talk, we can’t reopen the case. Emerson, if you want to tell us, we’ll wait. We’re not going anywhere.”

***

Thunk.

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