The color drained from Anastasia's face. She stared at Adam her mind reeling. "No," she whispered her voice hoarse with disbelief. "You're lying. Joseph would never do that. He has his faults but he would never send you to your death."
Adam looked away from her staring up at the ceiling. "My life was on the line Anastasia," he said his voice filled with a quiet despair. "I wouldn't lie about something like this. If the police hadn't shown up I wouldn't be alive right now."
He was weaving a tapestry of lies a story so filled with half-truths and calculated omissions that it was almost believable. He was painting himself as the victim the survivor the tragic hero.
And Anastasia caught in the grip of her own grief and confusion was beginning to believe him. The seed of doubt about her brother was beginning to blossom into a dark and poisonous flower.
Anastasia stared at Adam her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Her brother was dead. Her best friend was dead.
