returning to her shoulders. “No. Don’t you think if I knew something I would have told someone by now?”
“Of course. Of course.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It was a dumb question.”
“Yes. It was.” Sabrina paused. She stared at her coffee. “Steven was my friend, too.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She waved a hand. “I’m tired and feeling a little defensive tonight. I don’t know who killed him. I truly don’t have any idea. His death stunned me. I will say I think your first place to start is with Stan Prescott and Steven’s wallet, but...”
“But what?”
“There may be something else.” She sighed. “I spoke to Steven the day before he died.”
Clay tensed and leaned forward, his gaze boring into her as though he could see inside her head to grab her thoughts. “What did he say?”
“It wasn’t really what he said—it was more what I told him.”
“Which was?”
She stared at him. Did she dare tell him one of her deepest fears?
Clay leaned in. “Just say it, Sabrina.”
“I think—” She paused. “I think I may have sent your brother to his death.”
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