Emma turned up the music just a little louder anyway, even though she knew it was useless. She couldn’t help it. He’d sounded so angry when he called her. If she’d known it was him and not her mother, she wouldn’t have picked up at all.
Trees reached out for her, not as friendly as the ones at her house. These were wicked trees, bewitched branches. They’d warn him that she was coming. She wished she’d never agreed to go. But when he invited her for dinner, it didn’t sound like an invitation. It sounded like a command, and as much as she wanted to fight it, to say no, she still couldn’t. In some ways she was still trapped, still vulnerable.
No. She played the music louder to kill those thoughts. She’d done everything she could to prove that she had power. That she was free and strong. That people shouldn’t mess with her, and she thought she did a pretty good job at that. She didn’t have to fear him anymore.
Besides, she had that notebook. If her father ever wanted to hurt her, she could attack him where it really hurt. She’d been collecting dirt on him since she was a child. She’d been curious about the dark secrets that surrounded him, so one day she snuck into his office and found a little place to hide among his bookshelves and listened, confused.
His voice was always raised, though; he would grow so animated that she knew she had to be hearing something important. Something she couldn’t quite yet understand, so she started writing everything down so she could try to figure out what he was doing. Especially the stuff that sounded most important.
She wrote words that she didn’t understand. Ones she knew but didn’t know the context of yet. Over the years she’d gathered quite a collection and now, looking back on those frail words sickened her. The things he did, the things she heard. One day, she’d use them. When the time was right.
She couldn’t tackle this recklessly. People had tried in the past and they’d failed. Showing her cards too early could end in the worst defeat. But one day she’d bring down the ultimate betrayer. The monster of a man known as her father. If he wanted to attack her, she had her armor.
With that, she felt just a little safer when those wide-open fields came into view, followed by the multiple, expensive stables. Horses worth hundreds of thousands of dollars were kept here as status symbols. They weren’t the most expensive horses available, but they were close. They still did great in shows and were her father’s true pride. As much as he said he loved his daughter, she knew he loved the horses more. He loved himself more.
Emma remembered her own horse, Starlight, who’d comforted her greatly after the first incident. Her father threatened to sell her once upon a time, but Emma brought out a bit of information that she’d found during her investigations. He didn’t know how she’d gotten it, and she’d paid dearly. Yet her horse remained with her. Once she died, Emma never rode again.
She didn’t envy their wealth. She’d acquired a bit of her own money through her art, through her work at the yoga studio. Not enough to support herself fully yet, but one day, she would. Regardless, she would always be a little different, a little not like them.
She admired their garden, though, lush and flourishing with rare flowers that had also cost them thousands of dollars. She’d stolen a few for her garden, but they were her mother’s pride, so she didn’t get too greedy. It was the one aspect of their lives that she was jealous of.
She took deep breaths as she pulled up to their white mansion. Parked her car alongside all her father’s ridiculously expensive ones and fought herself as she walked up to their front door. She did not want to go in. But she had to.
By the time she knocked, of course it was too late to change her mind. So, she plastered on a smile as her mother opened the door and gave her a big hug. Her father didn’t even bother to get up to greet her.
“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart,” her mother cooed.
“It’s great to see you, too, Mom.”
She was a little concerned. Even through the makeup, she noticed the dark circles under her mother’s eyes. How she slumped a little more than she used to. She looked…defeated. He’d done this to her, she knew he had. She hated him for it.
Emma’s heels clicked across the marble floor as she followed her mother into the living room where her father sat. He glanced up as she walked in.
“Good evening, Emma,” he said. There was a chill to his voice.
“Good evening, Father.”
“I’m almost finished with dinner,” her mother said. “I know you and your father need to talk.”
“I’ll help you,” Emma cut in and covered her anxiety with another smile. “Can’t talk on an empty stomach, can we?”
“Of course not,” her mother smiled. “Come along, you always were the best little chef.”
They had maids to clean the house, stable hands, nannies, a variety of staff but never professional chefs or gardeners. That was work they did themselves. That helped them feel real among this world of plastic.
As they worked, her mother hinted at things being a little turbulent in the marriage. They always had been, but it had been wearing on her more in recent years. Tears gathered in her eyes, but they wouldn’t fall. They rarely did.
“I just don’t know what I can do anymore,” she said. “I thought with that woman gone, out of our lives for good, that things would get better, but I was only fooling myself. She was never the only one, and now he has others at his beck and call. I’m trying to be the best wife I can be, but I’m not young anymore. I’m not captivating. I’m never enough, and I never was. I don’t think I ever can be now.”
“Oh, Mom,” Emma gathered her in a hug. Her heart hurt for the woman she loved and admired her whole life.
She wished with all her heart that her mother would finally leave her father and make a stand on her own. She’d offered multiple times for her to come live at her house. They could start over and find peace together. Yet she’d learned by now that it would never happen. She gave up on that years ago.
They parted just slightly as she looked straight into her mother’s eyes. “You are wonderful, beautiful, so sweet and caring. You have so much to offer this world, and it’s not your fault he can’t see it. Don’t ever let him make you believe otherwise.”
Seconds later, they heard footsteps. Brett peeked in.
“I thought you ladies were supposed to be cooking, not blabbering. I’ve had a long day and I’m starving.”
“It’s almost done,” her mother said, voice a little too high pitched. “Why don’t you sit down at the table? We’ll bring your dinner right out.”
This was why Emma fell head over heels for Nolan. Despite every flaw he ever had throughout their marriage, he was never as bad as her father was. Perhaps it blinded her to who he really was.
Yet even she was silenced in this house, so she didn’t say anything as they brought the food out and set it down.
“You know,” Brett said after the first bite. “Maybe we should hire some professional chefs for the house. Might be good to have a change of pace around here.”
Melinda’s fingers tightened around her fork. She was a wonderful cook. She always had been. She took pride in it, and that’s why Brett said it, to hurt her. Emma noticed the anger.
Despite her attempts to have a pleasant conversation, the chill between her parents was obvious. The glorious chandelier tried to warm them, remind them of the fantasy life they lived. They ignored it.
Her father had never been a nice man, but he had never been this bad. He used to have his good moments. Great moments, even. That cast a rose-colored glare to cover up some of the horrible stuff he’d done. He’d changed, though. Something was weighing on him, and Emma suspected she knew exactly what that was. Who that was.
“Are you sure you should have that?” he asked as Melinda reached for a piece of pie for dessert. “Maybe you should leave that for Emma and me.”
“Brett!” she snapped. “I get it. I will never be as good as her, but she’s dead now, okay! She’s never
coming back. You can at least try to show some compassion!”
“And you will never be her,” Brett screamed, slamming his hand down on the table. “The only reason you are here is for the money and prestige. I doubt you even have the capacity to love someone.”
She stood in a huff and hurried out of the room. Emma stood to go after her.
“Sit!” he commanded. She did. “Enjoy some dessert with me. I want to talk with you in my study after.”
She hated herself for it, but she obeyed him. Did what he said. As she walked up to the study with him, she reminded herself of all those secrets she’d written down. She was ready for him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Amelia woke in a bed she didn’t recognize, under thick, black blankets in a room with white walls, grey, sleek furnishings, touches of gold and modern paintings among the white. Her brain scrambled, trying to remember just how she got here.
Then yesterday hit her. The suspicion about Gabe, the horrible things Brett had done, and Everett… She had gone to see Everett. She must have fallen asleep on his couch. She had been quite tired, and this was the first time in days she awoke feeling refreshed.
She stretched upon the most comfortable bed she had ever laid on and slumped back against the pillows. It was nice to be here, to not have to worry about things for a bit. Her mind needed a break. She needed a break. But she couldn’t afford one until she got justice for Anna and the string of victims before her. For Emma. Until she ensured that no one would ever be hurt by Brett again.
And she still had to get to the bottom of what her mother had to do with all of this. It seemed some questions had been answered, yet she suspected that she hadn’t uncovered everything yet. There was still a gaping hole in this puzzle.
She dragged herself out of bed to the window. Stunning views of a strong mountain shading a peaceful lake wished her a good morning. A lovely view, she thought. Definitely Everett’s house. So where was Everett?
Amelia slowly peeked out the bedroom door and heard a noise in the kitchen. It was odd to be walking through someone else’s house like this. Awkward. She felt out of place, like she shouldn’t be here, with each step.
But as she reached the kitchen, he looked up and gave her the most beautiful smile. She felt right at home and curious as to where all this would go. She could get used to this, even though she didn’t know what this was.
“Good morning,” he said as he walked over and hugged her. Before she could react, he kissed her forehead. They were something way more than friends, though she couldn’t exactly slap a label on it yet. “Sleep good?”
“Good, I think.” Was that bacon she smelled? And something else. Something sweet and delicious, maybe pancakes.
“I’m glad to hear it. You seemed exhausted last night. I’m almost done with breakfast. Bacon and waffles. I hope you like them.”
“Sounds amazing.” She smiled, sweet but also a little odd. No guy was ever like this with her before, especially not so soon. Few guys stayed long after they found out what she did for a living and those that did…well, she hadn’t always had the best luck with the very few men she’d ever dated. This was a nice change.
Everett fixed her some coffee, then brought breakfast over to the table for her. They started their morning with easy conversation and then…
“What do you think I should do about Gabe?” Amelia asked, as those worries finally reached her even here. She couldn’t wait until this was over. Until she could escape the shadow of this case for good.
“I think you should play it cool for now,” he said. “You still don’t know exactly who you can trust, so I wouldn’t approach him about it just yet. I wouldn’t tell anyone else about it, either. Just come to me with things for now. Be careful about what you say to everyone else until we have this figured out. And we will figure this out, okay? I will look through the flash drive more while you’re at work. I’ll properly document everything, track down names, uncover connections. I’ll create the perfect case against Brett for you. I’m a lawyer. I’ll know once we have the proper evidence to bring charges against him. Don’t worry, it’ll take time, but they will lock him up for this.”
“I just hope it’s before he can get his hands on another woman,” Amelia said.
Less than ten minutes later, she got the call she dreaded.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As she raced to the crime scene, she hoped with each breath that their victim didn’t fit the pattern the others had fallen into. She couldn’t let another person down. He couldn’t have gotten his hands on another woman already. Not when Amelia was so close to catching him. This was agonizing in a way that other cases hadn’t been. She felt responsible for this.
A lifetime later, she finally reached the park and parked her car among the others, all huddled around the scene. She jumped right out and flashed her badge as she knelt under the yellow tape. She joined Trent in front of the body of a young woman.
Her dark, tangled hair framed lifeless brown eyes. Her naturally tan skin had paled because of all the blood loss. Blood seeped from her neck to the ground, staining leaves, rocks, and dirt a horrible death color.
There were bruises on her wrists, bruises on various places all over her body. She was unnaturally thin, like she hadn’t eaten anything lately. Cuts colored her skin. Her hair was full of knots and there was dirt under her nails. It looked like they had held her captive for a while.
“Looks like she might be our third victim,” Trent said.
Amelia didn’t like the certainty in his words when he said it. How could he know that the victims were related? Was he just as guilty as Gabe was? Was he a traitor, too? Did he know more than he was saying? Would she find his name among the others? She hated feeling this speculation about one of her closest friends.
“You don’t know that,” she retorted.
“No, but from initial appearance she fits the victim type, and whoever did this slashed her throat, just like Anna’s. Her body looks like she’s been under distress for quite some time. It looks like they held her captive like Emma, like we assume Anna was. It’s too soon to know for certain.”
“If you don’t know for certain, then you shouldn’t voice it,” she snapped. She was angry at Trent for maybe being a traitor and furious at herself for not stopping Brett before this happened.
She knew it was him. All the evidence pointed to him. And there were so many things he’d done that could get him locked up for years. Forever. So why couldn’t she arrest him already? Why was he walking around free?
She’d talk to Everett about it soon, but he was right. He was a lawyer. He would know when the case was strong enough and she just couldn’t risk it until then. If he walked after they arrested him, they would be in a worse spot than before. Brett would be untouchable, and he’d grow more reckless with that new burst of confidence. Who knows who else he’d hurt?
“That’s rich coming from you,” Trent replied. “You’re always bringing up theories to look into and look where the last one got you. You found a link. Detective work is often about guessing and following those what-ifs. You don’t have to make it seem like a crime for doing so. I’m just doing my job.”
“Well, you don’t have to make it sound like you know more than you should.”
Her words said out loud surprised even her. The look of hurt in Trent’s face was most shocking, though. She felt terrible and wished she could take it back. It had cut deep, obviously. It would kill her if he said the same things, but she just couldn’t be too careful right now. She didn’t know who to trust. Justice was more important than friendship. Trent would understand that.
“What are you insinuating?” Trent’s eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms over his chest, and it seemed their friendship hung in the balance. Things between them were getting so complicated lately. Amelia hated it but was powerless to change it.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “Let’s just focus on the crime scene. That’s what’s important.”
Everett was right. They had to keep this between the two of them for now. He was the only one who wasn’t so closely involved, who’d have no reason to lie to her. Hurting Trent sucked, but she had no other choice.
They didn’t speak even as they headed to their cars. Time to go back to the station to begin the research. They walked with enough space between them to justify the silence.
“Amelia,” Trent said just before she was about to get into her car. He stepped closer so the rest of the team couldn’t hear. She felt something when he was near her like this. She didn’t know exactly what, though. “Look, whatever I did to make you so pissed off, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just…I don’t know what’s going on with you lately. And perhaps I need to take that into consideration. That I don’t know what’s going on with you lately. Maybe you’re going through things, tough things, and maybe I’m making it more difficult. If I am, I’m sorry for that, too. All I know is I hate this. We used to be great friends, and ever since this case started something just seems…off. I want to fix that. I want to talk. I want you to tell me what’s going on in your world. I want to know what’s weighing you down, because I’m certain something else is. So, will you join me for lunch? My treat. We can talk. Sort through this before heading over to the precinct to tackle this case together like the great team we are.”
When he looked at her like that, Amelia saw her friend, a boy she’d known since childhood and watched become a man. Wouldn’t she have noticed if he had somehow been corrupted along the way? She’d like to think there was no way this was possible.
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