Nevermore

by Wrenn Montgomery

  I get out of the shower and grab my big fluffy white towel from the bar on the wall beside me, drying off quickly and wrapping it around myself before grabbing my phone from the counter. There’s a text from Emmett that I start reading as I step back into the main area of my loft.

  I hear a throat clear and let out a yelp, slinging my phone in the process. “What the fuck—”

  One of the night-time security guards spins around so his back is to me, and because he’s bald I can see the blush that’s reached his ears and the back of his head. He’s red as a beet.

  “I’m so sorry, Miss Jackson, I was told to check in with you every hour once Detective Fisher left. I’ve peeked up here twice and you were asleep. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I take a deep breath and calm my anger before responding, “It’s completely fine. Thank you for doing your job. I’m fine, though. If you could please wait downstairs, I’ll be down shortly.”

  “Yes m’am.” He scurries to the door, still keeping his back to me and fumbling to grab ahold of the banister.

  I almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

  I have freaking bodyguards. Who have to check on me hourly when my detective “boyfriend” isn’t here.

  Thank God I didn’t waltz out here naked like I usually do.

  He’s just doing his job. He’s just doing his job.

  I repeat my mantra to myself while getting dressed in one of my Poe’s tees and favorite ripped jeans, and by the time my hair is curled in loose waves down my back and my makeup is finished, I’m grinning to myself at how red that guard’s ears were and how quickly he scrambled back down the steps.

  If I have to deal with this less-than-ideal situation, I might as well have fun with it.

  The room is completely silent, save for the sound of tapping feet against linoleum tile. Lacey’s hair is a hot-red mane around her face, and something in her eyes isn’t quite right. Like a cat who already ate the mouse. We’ve been in here for hours, rotating out and trying to get her break.

  “All right, Miss Carter. I just need you to tell us what you know,” Alex says, trying yet again to get her to talk.

  She looks up at him and a giggle escapes her lips before she puts her hand over her mouth. “Sorry!”

  I see Alex’s eyes squint a little, and I’m with him. This is not what we were expecting, her show is either a ploy or we need Stacey in here sooner rather than later.

  “Lacey.” At my tone her eyes dart to mine, and the light dancing there sets me on edge. “What do you know about what happened to Raven and Elliott?”

  She shrugs her shoulders and looks back at the table, like a child who’d just been scorned.

  “We just need information, Lacey,” I say, softer. “We know you didn’t do anything, but you know who did, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “Can you tell us?”

  Another giggle. “It’s not whoever you think it is. I know, but you don’t.” Her hand covers her mouth again and her eyes dart around the room.

  “Is it funny, Lacey? What happened to Elliott James, is that funny to you?” Alex’s voice is firm.

  “Well, I’m not sure, detective. I don’t think that was in the plans.”

  Alex meets my gaze over her head, both of us still standing—Alex, leaning his arms on the table beside her, and me, propped up against the wall. We can’t both crowd her, risking her shutting down, but one of us needs to look aggressive.

  “What plan?” he asks her.

  She shakes her head, eyes wide.

  “Lacey, you can be in a lot of trouble, you know. You’re an accessory in this. Someone was hurt, and you know who did this. You can tell us, or you can deal with the consequences,” Alex says.

  It seems like he’s losing his patience and I’m right there with him.

  She has the sense to look surprised before smirking again. With a shrug, she goes back to staring at her hands.

  I lock eyes with Alex again, nodding toward the door.

  He taps the desk twice and steps back.

  “All right, Lacey. We’ll be back shortly,” I say to her.

  The door clicks behind us and I make sure I don’t comment until we’re across the hall in the room with Monica and Stacey, where they’ve been watching the camera footage.

  “What in the actual fuck?” Monica is rubbing her eyes.

  “She’s cracked,” I state, shaking my head.

  “It’s like dealing with a fucking five-year-old. Can we hold her here?” Alex asks, looking at Monica.

  “Captain is working on it,” she replies, checking her phone.

  Someone clears their throat and we stop our banter to look over at Monica and Stacey. “What did you guys think?” I ask.

  Alex plops down in the seat across from Stacey and I follow suit.

  Stacey gestures toward the screen. “Look at her.”

  “Yeah, the same shit she was doing in there,” Alex says, blowing out his breath.

  We’re all exhausted.

  “No, Alex, really look at her,” Stacey insists.

  I follow his gaze and study the girl on the screen. Her vibrant green cardigan contrasting against her mess of wild red hair. The edges frayed, clearly worn out. The nail polish on her fingers is chipped, and she’s chewing on one of her thumbs. I can see by the table shaking that she’s still bouncing her leg.

  “She looks anxious,” Alex states.

  Stacey nods.

  “Okay but wouldn’t anyone be? She’s in a police station for questioning. Does she look crazy right now?” Alex asks.

  “No.” Stacey rewinds the footage to a few minutes prior, when we had entered the interrogating room.

  We watch as Lacey’s entire demeanor changes as the door opens. The wild look in her eyes isn’t there, but the second the door opens for us, it is and her bouncing increases.

  “She’s trying to make us think she’s lost it,” Alex says blandly.

  “I believe so. Either because she thinks her punishment will be less severe if she can prove she wasn’t of sound mind, or because she’s trying to throw us off on what’s really going on here,” Stacey confirms.

  “So what do we do now?” I finally ask.

  “Now we try.” Monica’s answer is strong and confident.

  I shoot her a forced smile and hope that she and Stacey can get further than Alex and I did.

  I hear the ding over the door and turn to see Reggie coming in. It’s a little after eleven and he looks disheveled.

  “Everything all right?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, sorry I’m late. I just left the police department, and let me tell you, I never want to do that again, honey. Only for you.”

  “Shit. They called you in?”

  “Yeah, they just wanted to know about Lacey. How she was when she was here, what sort of relationship I had with her, and if she had made any strange comments about you.”

  “And you told them about the weird vibes and all?” I ask him.

  He nods, blowing air out of puffed cheeks. “Yep. They didn’t tell me anything, but I do know she’s still there so that’s got to mean something.”

  “Do you think I could have actually had someone working for me that was feeding information to some sort of enemy?”

  “You didn’t even know there was an enemy, Rave.”

  “I know, but it creeps me out regardless.”

  “And it should. But you’ve got these handy dandy hunky security men surrounding you, plus a drop-dead gorgeous cop at your every beck and call. I could barely hold it together in the same room with him at the station. I’m not sure how you don’t jump—” he pauses, noticing said cop’s presence and adds—oh hey, Emmett.”

  I spin around and see Emmett grinning slyly, leaning against the door frame to the stock room.

  Reggie is seven shades redder than I’ve ever seen him and I start giggling uncontrollably. Emmett’s green eyes flash with laughter before he joins me, and then all three of us are
clutching our sides and gasping for breath. With how tense things have been, it’s a much-needed release.

  When I finally calm down enough to make a complete sentence, I tell Reggie I’m heading out for lunch with my dad, and we all sober up at the thought.

  “Maybe you should make a list of things you want to ask,” Reggie suggests. “Stay on track and don’t let your emotions get involved. Get those answers and you can assess it all later, you know?”

  I nod in agreement and grab a pad of paper and pen to make a list as Emmett drives me to a steakhouse on the outskirts of town.

  What do I want to ask my father?

  I start to write, thankful Emmett is giving me the silence I need to think.

  - Where is the wife? Still around?

  - More about my half-brothers

  - Did you ever see me after I was born?

  - When is the last time you had contact with my mother?

  - Discuss money situation, no more checks

  I tap the pen against my chin.

  As much as I want answers, he doesn’t owe any to me. He made his choices, all those years ago, and in his own way he’s been trying to make up for it.

  I’m resolved as we pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, where I see my father leaning against his truck, waiting for us.

  I didn’t peg him for a truck guy. The truck throws off the entire persona I’ve created in my head for him.

  He’s wearing khaki dress pants and a red short-sleeve golf shirt, even though it’s forty degrees outside.

  Maybe a product of living at the coast.

  His salt and pepper hair is parted on the side and slicked over, much like Emmett’s, so he stays with the times. He does have two sons, so I guess that makes sense.

  Emmett parks, gets out and shakes his hand, and tells my father he’ll see him shortly, then leaves us there.

  My entourage had followed behind us in a separate vehicle, and now, they’re following us inside.

  Phil and Mark are back, the night-shift having went home around nine this morning. I never caught their names, and I make a mental note to ask them tonight. Mark heads off to case the building and man the entrances, and Phil stays with us, sitting at a table directly behind us where he can see me at all times. It’s annoying, but I can’t deny that I’m comforted by them being here.

  Looking across the table at the man sitting there makes my breath catch. So many of my own features are staring back at me, and though this isn’t the first time I’ve laid eyes on him, this feels like the first time I’ve been able to study his features.

  Suddenly my list of questions isn’t my first priority. “Tell me about you. Tell me what I should know about my father.”

  The shock and then instant relief that floods his face almost brings a tear to my eye.

  Almost.

  “Fisher,” I answer.

  “We’re finished.” The annoyance in Monica’s voice tells me what I need to know.

  I pull out of the restaurant parking lot, heading back to the station. “Anything?”

  “Not much. She did indicate that there’s someone else behind the entire scheme, and that Brent is a hired player just like she is, but we knew that already.”

  I blow out a breath, steeling my frustration. “Better to have confirmation, though.”

  “She asked for a lawyer,” Monica adds.

  Shit.

  “Perfect.”

  “The fact that we have one of the players might rattle them. Someone is going to fuck up, Em. It’s going to come out. Stay close to Raven.”

  “I just dropped her off to have lunch with her dad. He’s coming in afterwards to give his statement.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait for you and we can brief the captain together.”

  I end the call and resist banging my head against the steering wheel.

  We’re going to catch them.

  I try to convince myself of it.

  After we’ve given the captain our report on Lacey’s interview, we’re back in the conference room going over our notes.

  “She said she knows, but we don’t. I just have a hunch this is someone that we haven’t even considered or interviewed. She was toying with us, like she knows we’re way off,” I say, trying to work through it out loud.

  Monica nods and I rub my hands over my face.

  A knock at the door tells us that Raven’s dad is here for his interview.

  We shuffle out of the conference room and he’s standing in the waiting area with Susan, no Raven in sight. Not that I thought she’d accompany him, but part of me had hoped to see her.

  Fucking goner.

  “All right, Mr. Jackson, we just need to ask you a few questions on the record to get your account of the night of the kidnapping and also clear you as a suspect for the attack on Elliott James,” Monica tells him.

  She’s leading the interview while I observe and take notes.

  Robert nods at her to continue.

  “Can you state your name and how you know Raven Jackson?”

  “Robert Cole Jackson. I am Raven’s biological father.”

  “Perfect, and can you tell us what happened two nights ago?”

  He looks down at his hands sheepishly and gives Monica a full recount of what occurred. Afterwards, he looks up at Monica, like he’s ready to defend his actions.

  She nods at him encouragingly. “Do you know anyone who may want to hurt your daughter?”

  “No, but like I said, I haven’t been present in her life. I just recently found out that her mother isn’t in her life either.”

  They spend a few minutes rehashing the reason Robert wasn’t there to be a father to her, and then Monica asks the kicker. “Does your wife know about Raven?”

  Robert takes a deep breath and nods. “I finally told her about a year ago. I’m not proud that I kept her a secret for so long, but that’s the truth.”

  “And your sons, do they know?” she asks him.

  He nods again.

  “How did your wife react to the news?” she prods.

  “She was upset, understandably. More-so that I wasn’t taking responsibility for my daughter and that I had abandoned her. It surprised me. I honestly thought she would divorce me over this, and here she was, more angry at me for not telling her, which kept us from being a part of Raven’s life. She wants to meet Raven. She’s been nagging me since she found out to make contact with Raven and tell her about her brothers. She wants her to be a part of our family.” He smiles a small smile and looks off into the distance, likely remembering his wife’s reaction.

  My ears perk up at this, and I stare at him incredulously. “Wow.”

  He gives me that same half-smile that I’ve seen often on Raven’s face countless times. “I didn’t tell her how I thought Raven’s mom was my soulmate. As far as she knows, it was an office fling that ended with an unwanted pregnancy.”

  “Understandable.” Monica puts her hand on his forearm and looks at him warmly, and I think we’ve both concluded that we can mark Robert and his wife off as suspects.

  It just doesn’t fit.

  We wrap up the interview and I clap Robert on the back. “I think you’ve got a shot at this family thing. It may take her some time, but I think you’ll get there.”

  I think I see a tear in his eye as he shakes my hand and heads back down the hallway, but it’s gone as fast as it came, leaving me unsure if I imagined it.

  “So how’d it go?” Reggie is standing over in the corner of the shop, straightening and fluffing the pillows on the bench there.

  “It was… interesting. There’s so much I didn’t know. He’s still married. His wife wants me to come over for dinner when I’m comfortable, which could be never.”

  “Oh come on, Raven. Everyone needs a family. He fucked up, sure, but you have two brothers and a stepmom who want to be in your life, you know? Don’t waste it. Not everyone has a family. This is your chance at one.”

  I’m surprised at the passion in his voice
, but I know he lost his parents when he was really young. That’s sort of why we fit together so well—two misfits without a family coming together to be there for each other. Same with Missy and Jason, because their families live in California. We’ve all come to be our own little family.

  “I know. And I’m going to try, I promise. It’s just a lot to wrap my head around right now.”

  He nods at me and makes his way to the storage room to finish the end-of-day tasks.

  I’m going through our sales for today and comparing them to last year. We’re up thirty percent. The bookstore is growing, and people are starting to use it as a hangout as well as a place to find their favorite authors.

  I feel such a sense of pride as I look around this place. Rows and rows of books, a comfy sitting area, a few loaner shelves for those who can’t afford to buy books right now. I have framed art on the walls—pictures of ravens, a portrait of Edgar Allen Poe. The entire back wall is painted white, with the words of the poem “The Raven” painted across the entire wall.

  It’s perfect. It’s everything I’ve always pictured.

  My phone dings and it’s a text from Emmett letting me know he’s stopping by the burger joint down the road on his way home and asking what I want. I quickly respond and hit send, thankful that he’s on his way. It’s been an emotionally draining day all around, and I’m anxious to find out if they got anything from Lacey.

  I feel myself smiling as Reggie comes back into the main area with his satchel, waiting for Todd to pull up. Since the attack, Todd doesn’t want Reggie leaving on his own, so he’s been picking him up every night. I can’t say I blame him.

  Reggie comes up and wraps his arms around me in a bear hug. “It’s been a rough bit, huh, love?”

  I nod against his shoulder and resist the urge to cry. I don’t get emotional, so it would surely freak Reggie out to see me crack.