He follows me into the kitchen, still without a shirt and smirks. "Got any beer?"
I grin." Of course." I hand him a beer from the fridge and pour myself a glass of wine.
He sits down at the table and takes a long gulp of his drink. "So you're a wine girl, huh?"
I look at my glass and swish it around. "I've grown up drinking wine, that's all."
"You must come from a wealthy family then." He says, taking another sip.
I shrug, "I guess you could say that." I stop for a minute unsure if I should ask. "How about you? What's your family like?"
He scoffs, "I'd hardly call them family. When my father was murdered they all thought that I did it and stopped talking to me." He looks down.
"My father was murdered too." I blurt out.
Gavin, looks up and raises an eyebrow at me. "Really?"
I nod, "Yep, just last year."
He steps closer to me, "What lie did the police tell you?"
"They said it was a random attack but I don't believe that for one second." I say.
He raises an eyebrow 'Was your dad into violence like that?"
"Not that I know of but that entire day was out of the orfinary. Something didn't seem right...and then I got the news." I sigh. "I just wish I knew something"
He takes a long gulp of his beer and sits silent for a second. I could almost see the gears turning in his head. "What if we help eachother?"
I chuckle, tucking a lose strand of hair behing my ear, "We just met."
"I know, but we both want answers and maybe our fathers were both involved in something." He convinces me, nodding his head slowly as he speaks.
I sigh,"Why not. I've got nothing better to do."
He seems pleased when he sets down his beer bottle firmly and walks back into the living area, opening the laptop on the coffee table.
"Where do we start?" I ask.
He logs into his email and then opens a video file.
"What's this?" I ask as the black screen starts to fade into colors.
It must have been a home video because the camera was shaky and there was a time code stamped in the bottom that read October 11, 2011.
I gasp, stepping away from the screen a bit.
"What is it?" He asks, his tone urned for answers.
"That's the day my father died." I wisper.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm positive. Trust me Gavin." I declare, sitting down next to him on the couch.
This could help me answer my endless list of questions.
