Chapter 247: Freedom Tastes Wrong
3rd Person Pov
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Ethan’s stomach churned uneasily. He straightened up a bit, his fingers instinctively gripping the arm of the chair until his knuckles hurt. The chilly night air drifted in with the officers, bringing along the faint scent of wet pavement and something metallic he couldn’t quite place.
The older officer cleared his throat. "He was found dead earlier this evening in a remote motel on the outskirts of Hayseville. It...looks like it was a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. There was a suicide note."
Each word fell into place..."found dead," "motel," "suspected suicide", but they didn’t quite register in Ethan’s mind. They lingered there, like awkward subtitles in a movie he wasn’t sure he wanted to watch.
He found himself fixated on the officer’s mouth as he spoke, watching the mustache twitch with each word, half-convinced that if he stared hard enough, the words might rearrange into something less final.
A car accident, perhaps. A bar fight. Or even a dramatic exit, with Logan riding off into the sunset with his horrible web of lies and secrets. Anything but this.
Inside him, an odd, heavy stillness filled the space where grief should’ve been. First, disbelief hit him, sharp and persistent, like his mind was outright refusing to accept this news. Then confusion washed over him, thick and swirling, because nothing made sense.
Logan? In a motel?
The man couldn’t even stand the sight of those, he always thought five-star hotels were more suited for him.