by Kai Juniper
"I love you too." I smile. "And I love that you use my real name. You're the only one who does."
"Because I know it's what you want. You're not a Halliway. You're a Bennet."
"And a Halliway. But I wish I wasn't. I hate Brock. I can't believe he's my dad." I pause. "I think I'm going to try to find him."
"Who?"
"My dad. Or fake dad. Devon. I have to talk to him."
"He's gone. By now he could be in a different country."
"I don't think he is. I know it sounds crazy but I have this feeling he's still here."
"In California?"
"No. But close. I don't think he left the country."
"Rumor, I know you want to believe that but I don't want you getting your hopes up. He told you he was leaving."
"But he didn't say where he was going. He could be anywhere."
"Which is why it's not worth trying to find him. Where you would even look?"
"I don't know." I look down. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's not worth it."
"Hey." He lifts my face to his. "If I wasn't stuck here because of my arrest, I'd take you to find him. If that's really what you wanted, I'd do it."
I softly smile. "I know you would."
He brings me into his chest. "I just want to stay like this until all of this is over."
"Me too." I pull back and look at him. "I talked to them today. To the police."
"You did? Why?"
"Brock's lawyer thought I should. She said it's better to cooperate with the cops than try to fight them. She said I'd look guilty if I avoided their questions."
"Guilty for what?"
"They think I was involved in Kristen's death. They think I put you up to it."
"What the hell?" Jackson shoots up from the couch. "Who told you this?"
"Brock's lawyer." I stand up, facing him. "She said the lady who questioned me at the police station today hates rich kids because they're spoiled and always get away with stuff so she'll make it her mission to lock us away."
"That's not fucking happening. What did you tell them?"
"Not much. Brock's lawyer wouldn't let me. She scripted all my answers and wouldn't let me answer anything that wasn't in the script. I didn't tell them about the busted cameras or the noise you heard. Did you?"
"Yeah. I told them everything. They still don't believe me. Kristen's body was found on my beach. Everyone knows she used to hang out at my house. They know we used to date. Used to fight. That's all it takes for me to look guilty as hell."
"The cop made it sound like you were still dating Kristen. Was she just testing me?"
"Yeah. She was seeing how angry you'd get. Seeing if you had a temper like Braden. What did you tell her when she said it?"
"Nothing. The lawyer told her I wouldn't answer the question. Did they tell you Kristen was strangled?"
"Yeah, but they can't say for sure that's what happened until they do the autopsy. They have to test how recent those marks on her neck are. They could've been the ones she already had."
"Did Kristen know how to swim? Maybe someone threw her in the ocean and she drowned."
"She could swim. And she wasn't afraid of the ocean. One of her mom's exes had a boat and she'd go out on it all the time, even when the waves were huge. She didn't drown. She was either killed behind my house or before she got there."
"You think someone killed her, then took her body to your house?"
"It's possible."
"What was the noise you heard when you got home?"
"I never found out. It sounded like the wind blowing something around."
"Jackson." Roman walks into the living room. "You should get to bed. You have a long day tomorrow."
"I can't sleep." He puts his arm around me. "Dad, this is my girlfriend, Rumor."
"We've met," he says, giving me a nod. "You should be getting home, Rumor. It's late."
"She's going to stay here tonight," Jackson says.
"I am?" I say, looking at Jackson.
"If you want to."
I smile. "I definitely want to."
"It's a bad idea," Roman says. "You two shouldn't be together with everything that's going on."
"That's exactly why we SHOULD be together." Jackson pulls me into his side. "We need each other now more than ever."
"Jackson, I—"
"I'm an adult now, Dad," Jackson says in a stern tone. "It's what you wanted. I've been living on my own for years. Just because you're here doesn't mean you can tell me what to do."
Roman looks at him, his lips pursed, eyes narrowed. "I'll see you in the morning."
He turns and walks off.
"Have you guys been fighting?" I whisper.
"Not until just now. He's actually been decent to me all day. He's doing everything he can to get me out of this."
"That's good. I didn't think he ever helped you."
"He usually doesn't, but this affects his reputation. He doesn't want to be in the tabloids and on the news because his son is a murderer. That's why he's here. It's not for me."
I hug him. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine. I'm used to it." He leans down and kisses my head. "Let's go in my room."
"Where is it?"
"Just down the hall." He takes my hand and walks me down to a large bedroom that looks out at the ocean. It's stark like the living room with just a king-sized bed and two bedside tables.
"Does the owner of this place ever live here?" I ask.
"No. He uses it like a hotel. Stays here whenever he's in town, maybe a couple weeks total out of the year. Sometimes he rents it out, like he's doing for me."
We lay on the bed and I snuggle into Jackson's arms. I'd love to have sex with him but maybe later. Right now, I just want to be in his arms. Feel his body next to mine. Listen to him breathe.
Just hours ago I thought I'd lost him. I thought they'd never let him go. It's the most scared I've ever been other than seeing my mom collapse on the floor and never wake up. I knew I'd lost her and I felt that away again when I saw them take Jackson away.
I can't lose him. I can't say goodbye to another person I love.
We have to find the person who did this.
Chapter Eight
We wake up to pounding on the bedroom door.
"Rumor!" Brock yells. "Open the door!"
"Shit," I say, getting up. "I forgot to tell him."
Looking down at the bed I see that we never got under the covers. And we never undressed. We fell asleep like this last night and didn't wake up until morning.
"I'll get it." Jackson goes to the door and opens it. "Morning, Brock."
Brock comes in the room, yelling at me. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
"You weren't worried," I say. "I doubt you even noticed I was gone until just a few minutes ago."
"Of course I was worried! A girl your age was just murdered! You don't think I'd be worried discovering my niece never came home last night?"
"I'm fine," I say, standing next to Jackson. "You can go now."
Brock marches up to me. "You're going home. Now!"
"No. I'm not leaving Jackson."
"Rumor, I swear if you don't walk out that door with me right now I'll—"
"You'll what?" Roman asks, appearing behind Brock, a cup of coffee in his hand.
"Roman." Brock turns to him, clearing his throat. "Forgive me for raising my voice. I was just concerned when I couldn't find my niece this morning."
"I understand." Roman looks at me. "I think it's best if you go home. You can see Jackson later."
"Unless something happens." Jackson puts his arm around me. "I'm not taking that chance. I'm not leaving her. If she goes home, I'm going with her."
"You're putting yourselves at risk," Brock says. "If the police see you two together, they'll come up with even more theories that make you both look guilty."
"So let them," Jackson says. "I'm not leaving her."
"And I'm not leaving him," I say.
Roman and Brock look at each other.
"My son is an adult," he says to Brock. "I can't control what he does. It's up to you."
"Why don't we all go sit down and have breakfast?" Brock says. "It'll give us time to calm down and consider the best option."
He's so pathetic. He's not going to consider options. He just wants time with Roman, hoping it'll get him a part in his movie.
"I don't cook," Roman says. "And we have nothing for food since we just moved in."
"We'll go to my house," Brock says with a smile. "I'll call up Ana. She'll be right over and prepare whatever you'd like."
I look at Jackson. "What do you think?"
"I could eat. I haven't eaten since Friday night."
"Then by all means, come down to the house," Brock says. "Do you need a few minutes?"
"I need to shower," Jackson says. He turns to me. "Go ahead and go back to the house. I'll meet you there."
"You sure? Because I can wait."
He leans down and kisses my forehead. "I'll only be a few minutes. I'll be there. I promise."
I want to believe that but after what happened, I don't know if I can. What if the police show up again and take him away?
"Rumor, it's okay." Jackson nods at Brock. "Go back with him."
I walk over to Brock.
"Roman?" Brock says. "Will you be joining us?"
"I need to make some calls first, but yes, I'll be there."
"Excellent!" Brock says with way too much enthusiasm. He needs to tone it down. He's embarrassing himself with his desperate attempts to win over Roman.
When Brock and I get back to the house, Braden is coming down the stairs, shirtless and wearing black track pants.
"Where the hell were you?" he asks Brock. "I need to talk to you."
"Not now." Brock races past him down the hall. "I need to prepare before Roman gets here."
"Prepare for what?" Braden calls out as Brock goes in his office. The door shuts and Braden turns to me. "Is he talking about Roman Novak?"
"Yeah. He'll be here in a few minutes." I walk fast toward my room.
"Why the fuck is HE coming here?" Braden asks, catching up to me.
"Because your dad wants a part in his movie." I go in my room and try to shut the door but Braden is blocking it. "Move," I tell him.
"Shouldn't Roman be working on getting your little boyfriend out of jail?"
"He's already out. He'll be here in a few minutes."
"No fucking way!" Braden yells. "That asshole isn't coming in my house!"
"Talk to your dad. He invited him."
Braden storms off. I shut my door and lock it. I take a quick shower and get dressed. Just as I'm finishing up, I hear the doorbell ring.
I race out of my room to the front door. Brock is already there, a fake Hollywood smile plastered on his face.
"Welcome," he says, stepping aside to let Jackson and Roman in. Jackson is just wearing jeans and a t-shirt but looks so damn hot. He didn't take time to shave so his face is covered with stubble, which makes him look older.
"Ana is preparing a variety of items for breakfast," Brock says, "but if you have any special requests, please let me know."
"Just coffee for now," Roman says. "I have a splitting headache."
"Of course," Brock says. "Right this way."
They leave for the kitchen. Jackson and I stay behind.
He puts his arms around me. "Can we just skip breakfast and go to your room?"
"We could, but you should probably eat first. You really haven't eaten since Friday?"
"I couldn't. Being locked in jail and accused of murder takes away your appetite."
"We're going to get you out of this. I don't know how, but I'm not letting them take you."'
"I'm not letting them take you either. I can't believe they're involving you in this. I should've done what you said and changed the locks. That would've proved to the cops that Kristen and I were over."
"You still would've been a suspect. She was found near your house."
Jackson rubs his hand over his scruffy jaw. "When I found her body on the beach I completely panicked. I didn't know what had happened but I knew they'd try to blame me. I checked the cameras but the only ones that were working that night were the ones by the front door."
"Someone damaged the ones in the back? Or did the wind knock them out?"
"Someone did it. The wires were pulled out. If the wind did that, it'd have to be a hurricane force wind, not an ocean breeze."
"You noticed the cameras were out when we talked. That was what? Almost midnight?"
"Yeah. I tried to fix them but couldn't so I just went to bed. It was probably around one."
"And what time you find her?"
"Just before seven. The sun had just come up and I went out back to see if I could figure out what made that noise I heard. The one I told you about."
"Did you find out what it was?"
"The umbrella over the table fell over. I'm guessing that's what it was."
"Why would it just fall over?"
"It doesn't fit right in the pole. It falls over all the time if the wind is going a certain direction."
"Are you sure that's the sound you heard?"
"I'm not positive but I'm guessing that's what it was."
"Unless it was the killer."
"Even if it was, I can't prove the noise I heard had anything to do with her death. I told the cops about it and they didn't seem to care."
"Because they think you're guilty. They're not even trying to look for someone else."
"You believe me, right?" He looks in my eyes, his arms going around me. "That I didn't do this?"
"Of course I believe you." I hug him, pressing my head against his chest. "I know you didn't do this."
He kisses my head, then pulls back, his eyes returning to mine. "I love you. I'm going to do everything I can to fix this."
"I know." I reach up to kiss him.
"Get out!" I hear Braden yell. "You don't fucking belong here."
I turn to face Braden, standing between him and Jackson.
"He was invited," I say to Braden. "Go upstairs and leave us alone."
"I'll go wherever the hell I want," Braden says. "It's MY house. You're just a guest. And he's just a..." Braden narrows his eyes at Jackson. "A fucking murderer."
"Says the guy who shoved his girlfriend off the side of a cliff," Jackson says, crossing his arms. "Correction. MY girlfriend."
"She was never fucking yours," Braden says, his jaw tightening. "She only went to you to get my attention. The bitch could never get enough attention."
"Jackson, let's go." I tug on his arm. "Breakfast is almost ready."
"They're gonna find out you did it," Jackson says to Braden. "It may take years but they're gonna find out."
Braden smirks. "They'd have to make up evidence to convict me."
"That may be all it takes. If they can make shit up about me, they'll do it to you too."
"The difference is you're guilty. I'm not."
"Jackson, c'mon. Let's go," I say, sensing the rising tension between them. If we stay here much longer, punches are going to be thrown.
Braden watches us as we leave.
"Better watch out, Rumor," Braden calls out. "You're gonna be next."
Jackson and I ignore him and go in the kitchen, greeted by the aroma of coffee brewing and bacon sizzling on the stove. Ana is there, wearing a yellow dress with a white apron, her hair wrapped up in a bun. I've never seen her wear a dress to work before but maybe Brock told her to wear nice clothes today as part of his ongoing attempt to impress Roman.
Brock and Roman are seated at the table across from each other, both having coffee. Brock's face is beaming. Having Hollywood's hottest director sitting at his kitchen table? Eating breakfast with him? This a dream come true for Brock. Still, he shouldn't be smiling so much given the situation. Both their sons are being investigated for murder. That's not something to smile about.
&nbs
p; "Rumor. Jackson," Brock says, "Have a seat."
"The food will be ready shortly," Ana says in her usual quiet voice.
I don't know how she got everything ready so quickly. The long center island has trays of muffins and other pastries, along with a large fruit tray and some kind of egg casserole flecked with green and red vegetables.
"Mind if I start?" Jackson asks, grabbing a plate from the stack. "I'm starving."
"Brock?" Ana says, afraid to answer Jackson without Brock's permission.
"Yes, go ahead," Brock says to Jackson.
"I'm going to get started as well," Roman says, getting up. "I need to get going."
"Oh," Brock says with disappointment. "I was hoping we could discuss some things after breakfast."
"Work will need to wait." Roman takes a plate and stands next to Jackson, who's helping himself to some fruit. "There are more pressing issues I need to deal with. I'm sure you understand."
"Of course." Brock races up behind Roman. "Rumor and I will join you. There's no need to wait."
Ana looks back at Brock from the stove. "The soufflé is—"
"Never mind the soufflé," Brock says. "Just put out whatever is ready."
She gives him an annoyed look but he doesn't notice. She was probably still asleep when he woke her up and told her to race over here to make breakfast. I still can't figure out how she made all this in such a short amount of time. The drive from San Diego alone took up half the time. Or maybe she wasn't there. Maybe she was here, spending the night with Brock.
Every time I see her now, I keep thinking of what she used to do, and what she does now with Brock, in his sex room. I try to force myself not to think about that, but my brain does it anyway.
"So," Brock says once we're all seated. "More meetings with the lawyers today, I presume?"
"We have one this morning." Roman glances at Jackson, who's beside him. "They called when you were in the shower."
"Why? I've already talked to them."
"They spoke with the police this morning." Roman picks up his coffee. "We'll discuss it later."
"Everything is ready," Ana says, coming over to the table. "The bacon and other hot items are now on the counter. Would you like me to serve you?"
