By the way her brows raise, her interest has been piqued. "He wasn't allowed to? How come?" "Conflict of interest. He and John Parsons were best friends for twenty years, and Gigi was a good friend of his. His sergeant said it'd be too personal, so he had to stand by and watch them butcher the case." He shrugs. "Dad always thought John was the one who did it." Addie leans forward, hanging on Mark’s every word. “Your father was Frank?” Mark quirks a brow. “Yes, he was.” Addie clears her throat. “My Nana mentioned Frank a time or two.” He chuckles. “Yeah, we played together when we were younger.” “So, why did your father think John did it?” Mark shrugs a shoulder. “Not sure, to be honest, but I do remember that Gigi and John were fighting a lot. He was real adamant, but there wasn’t any evidence to prove it. I was pretty young back then, so my memory might be a little sparse. But there were a few nights he would drink an entire bottle of Jack, always muttering under his breath about making "him" pay for what happened.” He finger quotes the word him. “I know their friendship fell apart after her murder. John was a raging alcoholic, and my dad was devastated that he lost two good friends." Addie’s eyes are wide with excitement. Clearly, she cares. Solving Gigi’s murder means a lot to her. But I know she’s only trying to prove something to herself. If it wasn’t for the fact that she has her own stalker, I don’t know if Addie would’ve even bothered figuring out who murdered her great-grandmother. It’s not about finding who did it, it’s about proving that it was Gigi’s stalker and no one else. I get the feeling that if she can one hundred percent prove it, then it'll cement the fact that all stalkers are murderous psychos, and she can finally hate me and shut me out for good. And all that tells me is I’m getting through the diamond-encrusted fortress surrounding her heart. She wants something concrete to believe in because her morals and fundamental beliefs are being challenged. Mark’s phone rings, cutting off any further questions Addie was gearing up to ask. Mark glances at his phone and silences it, but from the way his face has turned serious, I know something is calling him away. “That was my associate. I gotta head out for some business,” he starts, swallowing down the rest of his drink and standing. “But listen, I’m hosting a charity event at my house next weekend. It would be my absolute honor if you both could attend.”