Twisted Secrets: A Dark High School Romance (Twisted Pine Academy Book 3)

by Kai Juniper

  I hear Brock at the door. "Hello, officer. How can I help you?"

  Chapter Two

  Trystan's eyes bounce between Braden and me, as if he's trying to figure out which one of us the cop is here to see.

  The officer says something to Brock.

  "Of course," Brock says. "Come on in."

  "Hope you like handcuffs," Braden says to me, a smirk on his face.

  "Maybe they're here for YOU," I whisper.

  "Shut up!" Trystan whispers.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Brock says, his voice sounding like he's just steps away from the living room. Why did he let the cop in the house? Couldn't they talk at the door?

  "At this point we're just letting the neighbors know what happened," the cop says. "Once we begin the investigation, we may be coming back to question people."

  "I understand," Brock says. "Please let us know if we can be of assistance."

  The officer clears his throat. "Mr. Halliway, I'm sure you're aware that I know what's going on with your son. I haven't been directly involved but I've read the case. Given what's happened to Ms. Reynolds and her previous relations with your son, I would like to ask him some questions. Is he around?"

  "I'm afraid that won't be possible," Brock says.

  "I could come back later. When will he be available?"

  "Officer, I can assure you Braden had nothing to do with this. He'll be just as shocked as the rest of us to learn of her death."

  "While that may be the case, I still need to ask him some questions. When would he be available to talk?"

  "I don't see why he would need to. My son wasn't even home last night. He played football, then went to some parties."

  "Do you know what time he arrived home?"

  "Officer, please don't take this the wrong way but I'm getting rather tired of your department coming after my son every time there's a crime in the area."

  "Mr. Halliway, this isn't about some teenagers breaking a window or shoplifting. This is a murder investigation. The second one involving a girl from Twisted Pine who dated your son."

  Brock huffs. "A young man goes out with a girl a few times and suddenly he's a suspect in her murder?"

  "I didn't say that. I simply asked to speak with him. He might have information that could lead us to her killer."

  "She was found at the home of Jackson Novak. Seems you've already found your killer."

  "She wasn't actually in his house. She was found behind it. On the beach. Anyone could've placed her there."

  "And by anyone, you mean who exactly?"

  "We don't know yet. That's why we're investigating. In addition to talking to your son, we'd also like to speak to the girl who lives here. One of my men said she was at the scene, claiming to be Novak's girlfriend. Do you know if that's true? Were they dating?"

  My heart was already racing but now it's at an all-out sprint. Why is he asking about ME? Does he think I did this? Does he think I killed Kristen?

  "Officer, I don't mean to be rude but I think it's time that you leave. Your department already has my lawyer's information on file. You can contact him in regards to your questions."

  I hear the front door open.

  "We'll be in touch," the officer says.

  The door closes and I hear the lock click shut.

  Brock returns to the living room, his eyes going to me. "We need to talk. Go to my office."

  "Why? I didn't do anything."

  "But they think you did. And I'm sure your mother never coached you on how to respond to questioning by police officers trying to link you to a murder."

  "Punching Kristen wasn't enough?" Braden says with a laugh. "You had to kill her?"

  "I didn't kill her," I say, glaring at him. "And neither did Jackson."

  "Leave Jackson out of this," Brock says. "I don't want you trying to defend him. He can take care of himself."

  "Of course I'm going to defend him!" I say, raising my voice. "He's my boyfriend!"

  Braden smirks. "It won't matter what you tell the cops. Novak's going down. Killing two girls? He's gonna be locked away for a long time."

  "Braden, enough!" Brock barks. "Rumor, go to my office! Now!"

  I storm out of the living room, but stop on the other side of the wall when I hear Brock talking.

  "Anything you boys want to tell me?"

  "Like what?" Trystan asks.

  "Do either of you know anything about this? About who might be involved?"

  "Novak," Braden casually says. "Who else would it be? Novak and Kristen were always fighting. She probably took it too far and he killed her."

  The room is silent, then I hear Brock again. "Trystan, go up to your room and stay there. You will not leave this house until I say you can."

  "What the hell? I'm not staying here all day. I promised the guys I'd—"

  "Up to your room!" Brock yells. "If you even attempt to leave, your car is gone. For good this time."

  "This is bullshit," he says, storming off. I hurry down the hallway and stand up against the wall, hoping Trystan doesn't see me. He runs up the stairs and moments later I hear his door slam shut.

  "I didn't fucking do it!" Braden yells from the living room.

  I race back to where I was, hiding behind the wall.

  "Why the fuck would I kill her?" Braden asks.

  "Why was she here?" Brock demands. "At the house?"

  "Why do you think?" Braden shoots back.

  "Why would she suddenly have an interest in you? The two of you didn't exactly part in a cordial way."

  "Guess she finally realized I'm better than anyone else she could be with."

  "What exactly did she say to you? Did she tell you she broke up with Novak?"

  "She told everyone. I think it was last week. I can't remember."

  "You need to remember these things. The police will ask you these types of questions. You need to be prepared with an answer."

  "Who the fuck cares when they broke up? The point is, he did it. Novak killed her. I don't even know why we're talking about this."

  "Because they're going to consider you a suspect!" Brock says, getting angry. "Goddammit, Braden, you're not that stupid, are you?"

  "I'm not fucking stupid," he mutters.

  "You are if you can't see what's going on here. That police officer didn't just show up at our door to let us know about Kristen. He showed up hoping to see you. To see if you were showing any signs of guilt. To see if you'd slip up and say something you shouldn't."

  "For the last time, I didn't fucking do it," he says in a low, angry tone.

  "It doesn't matter if you did it or not. What matters is what they believe. You fucked up with Andrea and look what happened. We're still dealing with that shit over a year later."

  "That wasn't my fault. If you had just—"

  "You ungrateful little brat!" Brock snaps. "If it weren't for me you'd be—" He blows out a breath. "Forget Andrea. I want to know why Kristen was here. She suddenly had a change of heart and decided to come back to you? I don't believe that."

  "Why? I'm a hell of a lot better than Novak."

  "You assaulted the girl," Brock says, lowering her voice. "It doesn't make sense for her to return to you."

  "I didn't assault her," Braden says in a defensive tone. "The bitch said it's what she wanted, and then she turns on me. And she didn't start making threats until I told her I was going out with Alyssa. She was fucking jealous. That's why she did it. And now she's dead so it doesn't matter."

  "It matters if she told someone. If she told anyone her claims that you assaulted her, the police will find out. It'll give them another reason to consider you a suspect."

  "So let them arrest me. They're not gonna find anything. And then you can sue their asses for trying to ruin my reputation."

  "If they arrest you it's over. My career will never recover."

  "That's what you're worried about?" Braden says, raising his voice. "Your stupid career?"

  "Go to your room. We'll discu
ss this later. I need to talk to Rumor."

  "You're going to let her keep dating Novak? Seriously?"

  "Stay out of it, Braden. I mean it. When I said it before I wasn't kidding. You get yourself involved in that and I WILL send you to live with your mother."

  "Why the fuck would you let her date him? He's the—"

  "What did I just say?"

  I peek my head around the corner and see Brock grabbing Braden's shirt, his other hand clenched in a fist.

  "Not one more word," Brock says. "Understood?"

  Braden doesn't respond, or if he does, I can't hear him.

  Brock lets him go. "Up to your room. Now!"

  I turn and race down the hall into Brock's office. I hear Braden stomping up the stairs, then his door slam.

  "Sorry about the wait," Brock says, coming in his office and shutting the door. "As you can imagine, the boys are a little shook up from the news." He sits down across from me at his desk. "The death of a classmate is always difficult."

  "Third one," I say, my eyes meeting up with his. "And all suspected murders."

  "Murders?" he says with a laugh. "Only Kristen's death was a murder."

  "Andrea was murdered," I say matter of factly. "They just haven't found out who did it."

  It's bold to say that, especially when his son is a suspect, but I don't care. If Braden did it, I want to know, and I want Brock to tell me. After hearing him talk to Braden just now, I'm thinking Braden's not as innocent as he claims. What did Brock mean when he said Braden fucked up with Andrea? Was he referring to how Braden responded to the police or did he mean Braden killed her and did a crappy job covering it up?

  Brock leans across the desk, looking me in the eye. "What did I tell you regarding Braden and the girl?"

  "That he didn't do it." I sit back in my chair. "But I'm not sure I believe you."

  "You'll believe what I tell you to believe. And I'm telling you that Braden had nothing to do with it. The girl was drunk and fell over the railing. It was a tragic accident."

  "Where did it happen?"

  "A few miles from here." He straightens up, folding his hands and resting them on the desk. "It was a beach house similar to mine, backing up to a rocky cliff."

  "Whose house was it?" I ask, wondering why I've never asked these questions before. I've thought them, just never asked them.

  "It belonged to a man who owns an investment firm in LA. His sons went to Twisted Pine. Their parents weren't home at the time."

  "The sons went to Twisted Pine? Why'd they leave?"

  "After what happened, their parents decided to move. They sold the house and now live in Calabasas, I believe." He picks up a pen and taps it on the desk. "We're not here to talk about that. I want to ask about Jackson Novak and your involvement with him."

  "I already told you. We were friends and then started dating."

  "And you did this behind my back."

  "Why would you care who I'm dating?"

  "You know very well the answer to that." He cocks his head. "What was your involvement with Kristen?"

  "I didn't like her but I didn't kill her. And neither did Jackson."

  "How would you know? You just met the boy. You know he's being looked at in regards to Andrea's death."

  "Yeah, but I know he didn't do it."

  "And yet you believe Braden was involved. Your own cousin."

  "Braden has a bad temper. I could see him losing control. I'm not saying he did it on purpose. He might've just got mad and pushed her so hard she fell."

  Brock taps his pen on the desk. "It's disappointing you think so poorly of your own family. I know you and Braden don't always get along but I would think you could at least be on his side in this matter."

  "I don't take the side of a murderer," I say, staring back at Brock.

  He pauses. "You might want to reconsider your story regarding Braden, should the police question you about it."

  "Why would they question me? I wasn't even there."

  "Perhaps Braden confided in you. Told you something he hasn't told anyone else."

  "He didn't tell me anything."

  "I'm simply giving you a reason for why you might be questioned. My point is, your answers could affect your fate."

  "I know that. I'm not stupid. But I'm not going to lie to the cops."

  Brock sets the pen down and sits back in his chair. "We don't have to defend you, Rumor. Even though you're family, you just recently entered our lives. Although I'm willing to protect you from this, I'm not obligated to, and I won't if you turn against Braden."

  "You're saying you won't defend me if I don't defend Braden, even if I think he killed Andrea?"

  "What if I think you killed Kristen? You certainly have motive. You hated the girl, to the point that you punched her in the face. And I'm sure you felt at least somewhat jealous that she maintained a relationship with the boy you were seeing, even if that relationship was platonic."

  "I wasn't jealous of Kristen," I say defensively. "And I didn't hate her."

  Brock lets out a laugh. "You have no idea how this works, do you?"

  "I know I'm innocent. That's all that matters."

  "Your innocence will depend on how good her mother's lawyers are, and I can assure you that Daphne Reynolds will find the best lawyers money can buy. They'll turn you into the angry jealous girlfriend who would do anything to get rid of Kristen."

  "I wasn't even there last night. That's proof I didn't do it."

  "If you didn't do it then you planned it. You convinced your boyfriend to do it. You told him you wanted Kristen out of your lives. For good."

  "That is NOT what happened."

  Brock leans toward me across the desk. "What happened isn't relevant. Your fate will be determined by what the police, and later the jury, are convinced to believe by high-priced lawyers who are very good at their jobs."

  "Lawyers can say whatever they want but it's the truth that counts. And the evidence. If there's no evidence they have nothing to support their story."

  "Evidence can be made up. It can be circumstantial, like something of yours that was left in Kristen's locker at school. Or a threat you made that was overheard by a student. Hitting her is enough of a motive for them to arrest you in connection with her murder. So is dating her ex."

  "No, it's not."

  "And yet the officer at the door was very eager to speak with you. When he learns of your previous aggression with her, he'll return, possibly with handcuffs."

  "So what are you saying? That you'll let them take me away?"

  "I'll do what I can. But in return, you support Braden. You stop accusing him of crimes he didn't commit." His eyes lock on mine. "Braden did not kill Andrea. Say it."

  I swallow and look away. "I'm not saying something if I don't know it's true."

  "Do you want my support or not? Trust me, you can't afford the type of lawyers you'll need if the police charge you with this, and you definitely don't have money to defend yourself against Daphne Reynolds, should she choose to come after you for her daughter's death."

  I pause, my anger building. I hate that he's making me do this, but what the hell. It's just words. And I'm only saying them to Brock, not the police.

  "Fine," I say. "He didn't do it."

  "And?"

  I look back at Brock. "And what?"

  "You will tell the police he wasn't with Kristen the other night. Their relationship ended when she left him for Jackson."

  "You want me to lie to the police?"

  "And anyone else who asks."

  "No." I shake my head. "Telling them that could help Jackson. I'm not lying about her being here."

  Brock stands up. "Go to your room and think about it. You might come to your senses once you've given it some thought."

  "And if I don't agree to it, then what?"

  He slowly smiles. "You're so much like your mother. Go up to your room. We'll talk later."

  I hate it when he does this. When he acts like he's the one in
control and I'm his little puppet. It makes me want to smack him across his perfect face. And why does he keep saying I'm like my mom? Because I stand up for myself?

  I'm not lying to protect Braden. I don't need Brock's help, or his fancy lawyers. I'm innocent. Not liking Kristen doesn't make me a murderer. The entire school didn't like her.

  I still can't believe Kristen is dead. And that her killer is out walking around.

  Chapter Three

  When I get to my room I turn on the TV. The local news is on. I'm about to switch channels when I see Jackson getting out of the cop car.

  Racing up to the TV, I quickly turn up the volume.

  "In other news," the lady on TV says, "Jackson Novak, son of acclaimed film director Roman Novak, has been arrested in connection with the death of Kristen Reynolds, daughter of socialite Daphne Reynolds. Reynolds' body was found washed up on the beach behind Novak's residence earlier this morning. Police are ruling it a homicide but won't release details on the cause of death until an autopsy has been performed."

  I watch as the police take Jackson into a building. He's staring straight ahead, no expression on his face. Knowing him, it's intentional, meant to hide any signs that might make him look guilty.

  The news switches from the news desk to a young reporter with a microphone standing in front of a white mansion lined with manicured shrubs and flowers.

  "We're here in front of the Reynolds' mansion," the reporter says, "where Steven Edwards, Daphne Reynolds' husband, will soon be coming out to make a statement. What we know so far is that the Reynolds' girl was at home last night but left sometime before midnight. Edwards claims to have heard noise in the house around that time but assumed it was Kristen getting up to use the bathroom. Now he believes the noise was her leaving the house. He didn't realize she'd left until he received the phone call this morning telling him about her death. Daphne Reynolds was in LA when she received the call. Billionaire media mogul, Thomas Cunning, a friend of the Reynolds' family, offered up his private jet to get Daphne back to La Jolla as quickly as possible."

  The reporter turns toward the house, the camera showing the driveway where two police cars are parked, along with a silver Audi and a black Porsche SUV. The Audi must be Principal Edwards' car. I've seen it in the school parking lot.