by Elise Noble
I was about to ask them if they wanted anything to eat when I heard my name. Back away, Beth. But I couldn’t. Eavesdropping on conversations was a terrible idea, but growing up with my parents, it was the only way I’d had a clue what was going on, even if I frequently wished afterwards that I hadn’t found out. I tiptoed closer.
“Yeah, Beth’s sweet,” Emmy said. “I’m glad she’s landed on her feet.”
Aw, that was nice of her.
“She’s done more than land on her feet. I mean, if I didn’t work at Blackwood, I’d apply for a job at Sirius. All that eye candy.”
“Dan, you’re practically married.”
“So? I can still look. Ethan knows I’d never touch. Is Naz hot?”
“No idea. I’ve never met him. And Sirius isn’t a fucking pick ’n’ mix. Judd’s a bloody lunatic and Ravi’s gay, for starters.”
What? I clapped a hand over my mouth to cover my gasp. Why didn’t I notice these things? Ravi liked men? I mean, I’d assumed Stéphane leaned in that direction, but Ravi too? And in what way was Judd a lunatic?
“Ravi isn’t gay,” Dan said. “I caught him checking out my boobs.”
“Well, Bradley reckons he is, and his gaydar’s on point. And everyone checks out your tits, honey. I check out your tits. They’re great tits.”
“Yours aren’t bad either, babe. I got a whole bunch of new underwear while I was in London. From Black Lily—you know, the place Max’s fiancée owns? Have you been there? I bought one corset, and when Ethan saw it, he ordered me half of the store.”
“I might have an outfit or two from there. But not corsets. How do you breathe in those things?”
Uh-oh. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and hurriedly backed up a few steps.
“Ready to go?”
We had casual Alaric today. Well-worn jeans and a T-shirt since he’d be staying at the house for a while. I liked him in the sports coat, but this new look wasn’t bad either. Don’t think of those arms around you, Beth.
“Uh, almost. Do you want coffee? Or breakfast?”
“Wouldn’t say no.”
It was eight thirty when I arrived at Lone Oak Farm, just in time for a second breakfast courtesy of Stéphane. I’d happily muck out every day in return for Belgian waffles with whipped cream and maple syrup.
“Ready to get started?” Harriet asked after we’d finished our coffee. “Rodrigo’s gonna feed the cows and fix some broken fencing while we do the horses in the barn.”
“Why not?”
Yes, I liked my new job. And I also liked Harriet. She handled the horses firmly but kindly—exactly what they needed—and she was happy to chat too. Although inevitably, after we’d told our war stories and compared scars, talk turned back to the case.
“So you really think Kyla Devane planted that awful video?” she asked.
“Not personally, but Emmy thinks it was somebody working for her. Or maybe he’s more than an employee? One of the witnesses thinks they crossed that line, although Eric Ridley’s almost old enough to be Kyla’s father.”
“Kyla and an older man? That doesn’t surprise me one bit. She was failing math in high school until she screwed the math teacher. Ditto for chemistry.”
I went into a coughing fit.
“You okay?”
“Just swallowed a hayseed or something.” Or something. “What, she was sleeping with both of them?”
“Yah-huh. What were they gonna do? Complain to the principal?”
I guess not. “Did you ever hang out with her?”
“No way. She was two years ahead of me, and I avoided her like the plague. All of my friends did too. Kyla Devane’s a nasty piece of work, and she always has been. If she gets elected, it won’t be thanks to anyone in this town. And you know what? She probably will get elected. Nobody’s ever made her face the consequences of her actions. Never. She’s brazen, but she’s careful, and on the rare occasions she does get caught, she’ll throw anyone under the bus to escape punishment.”
“What else has she done?”
“When she was sixteen, she crashed her mom’s car into Bubba Morten’s pickup before she got her driver’s licence. Daddy’s little angel convinced her boyfriend to take the rap, except Jarrod had been drinking beer in the Tumbleweed Tavern all night, so he got arrested for DUI and locked up for six weeks while Kyla got a neck brace she didn’t need and a mailbox full of sympathy cards.”
“Didn’t he tell the truth after?”
“Sure he did, when he realised he was going to jail. But Kyla sobbed a lot and Mr. Devane’s lawyer painted Jarrod as a guilty man out to evade responsibility for his mistakes. Ironic, huh?”
“How do you know Jarrod was telling the truth?”
“Because one of my friends saw Kyla get out of the driver’s seat.”
“Did your friend tell the police?”
“No, because Jarrod was a jerk, and she didn’t want to face the wrath of Kyla either. Cross her and you’ll pay. Like the time Piper Simms got voted homecoming queen and Kyla was only a princess.”
Dare I ask? “What happened to Piper?”
“Who knows? She vanished a week before the parade. That was thirteen years ago, and nobody’s seen her since.”
“Did the police look?”
“Officially, the sheriff’s department searched, but guess who was the biggest donor to Sheriff Tucker’s re-election campaign?”
“Was their surname Devane?”
“Good guess. Bribery makes the world go round. Anyhow, Kyla pretended to be really cut up about Piper’s disappearance. They were supposedly best friends before the homecoming quarrel, but did she forgo the crown when she ‘inherited’ it? No way. And a month later, a note arrived from Piper, saying she’d moved to LA to pursue a singing career and she was having a great time.”
“Did anyone compare the handwriting?”
“I heard it was typed.”
“Wow. That’s crazy.”
“Yup. So you see, the stunt with my father was nothing for Kyla. She’s had years of practice. I only hope your friends know what they’re doing.”
“They do,” I assured Harriet, although I wasn’t totally sure about that. The team of Emmy and Alaric had worked well against a muscle-bound psycho in London, but Kyla Devane was a whole other level of cunning. Now that I knew a little more about her past, I needed to warn Alaric what he was dealing with. “What do you think happened to Piper?”
“I have no idea, but I don’t think she’s belting out show tunes in musical theatre.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
When Harriet trundled off to empty her wheelbarrow, I tried phoning Alaric, but my call went straight to voicemail. Rather than leaving a long, rambling message, I sent him a text.
Me: Would you mind calling when you have a moment?
Could eighteen-year-old Kyla really have been involved in her friend’s disappearance? For a homecoming crown? It seemed somewhat drastic, but then again, she might well have bribed a sick senator with an expensive stolen painting and then tried to destroy a rival with underage porn. Perhaps it was all in a day’s work for everyone’s favourite political candidate?
“Enough about Kyla,” Harriet announced. “I need to check on Daddy, but do you want to try barrel racing after that?”
It would be rude not to. When in Rome and all that…
“You’ll have to show me what to do.”
“You can ride Bucky. He’ll teach you.”
“Bucky? That’s not a nod to his character, is it?”
“Don’t worry; he’s a dream to ride. But his registered name is ‘Who Gives a Buck?’ Rodrigo bet me five dollars it’d get rejected, but I think the person who checks the forms must’ve been asleep on the job that day.”
Who Gives a Buck? Yes, I was definitely going to be good friends with Harriet.
CHAPTER 16 - BETHANY
WHAT A RUSH!
Eventing had always got my adrenaline up, especially the cross-countr
y phase, but a short-course round over fixed fences took seven or eight minutes while a run around the cloverleaf pattern took less than thirty seconds. Bucky was a 2D horse, which meant he was usually within half a second of the 1D, or fastest, time. Learning all the new terminology was like getting the pass key to a different world, but even with a western saddle instead of a smaller English one, the basics of riding were still the same. Harriet was of course much faster, but I didn’t disgrace myself.
“Thanks so much! I feel like a traitor when I say it, but I haven’t had that much fun on horseback in years.”
She adopted a snooty pose, back straight and head up. “You think I should give dressage a try?”
“If you ever come to England, you’re very welcome to sit on Chaucer.”
Harriet glanced around the barn, which was in slight disarray before our end-of-day tidy-up.
“Thanks for the offer, but I doubt that’ll ever happen. There’s too much to do here. Want to ride another?”
I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, I was tired, but a good tired. After I worked on Judd’s report, which incidentally, he still hadn’t emailed me, I’d sleep well. Maybe I’d even watch another movie with Alaric? Not that I could tell you what last night’s film was, who was in it, or anything about the plot.
I gave “my” second horse a pat and led him back to the barn. Chaucer would love it here—he was a big fan of summer, always seeking out the sun, and the acres of pastures would be his idea of heaven. But we didn’t have this much space in England. Everything was smaller.
I was just shutting the stall door when my phone rang. Alaric?
No, Gemma.
“Hey, how are you doing?” I asked.
What time was it in London? Nine p.m.?
“Good, I think. Better than last week. I still… I can’t believe…”
“That part of your life’s done now. It’s okay to move on.”
“Move on? Are you serious? I’m staying single forever. I’m totally not cut out for dating.”
“I didn’t mean dating. Just finding new friends.” What was that weird cry in the background? I had limited experience with children—unless you counted Piers—but it sounded almost like a baby. “What’s that noise?”
“Uh, Feather?”
Feather? Feather was Judd’s cat, a velvety grey British shorthair who wore a perpetual scowl and acted as if she owned the place.
“Gemma, where are you? I thought you were staying in my flat?”
“I was going to, but then Judd had to go to Switzerland for the weekend, and he asked if I’d stay to feed Feather, and she’s so cute…”
Fair enough—Alaric had mentioned Sirius’s previous PAs having to take care of Judd’s cat when he went away, and since I wasn’t in London, it was kind of Gemma to step in. But why did she seem so edgy?
“Are you okay?”
“Yes?”
She didn’t sound sure. But the small talk was Gemma’s way—whenever she didn’t want to say something, she’d beat around the bush for a while until she worked up the nerve. I’d left London too soon, hadn’t I? I should have stayed to support her. Four thousand miles away, all I could do was talk.
“It’s Wednesday. Is Judd still away?”
“Uh, no. He came back.”
Please, say she hadn’t…
“Gemma, you literally said two seconds ago that you’d sworn off men.”
“And I have. He’s just…just…”
A lunatic? Emmy’s earlier words echoed in my head. Dammit, I wished I’d been able to hear the rest of that conversation.
“He’s just nice. Honestly, that’s all.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“And I’m worried about you.”
“With Alaric? There’s really no need.”
Gemma gave a little giggle, and I was glad to hear it. Perhaps things weren’t as bad as I’d feared?
“Oh, no, I’m not worried about Alaric. Like, he’s the gay best friend every girl wants. I meant with all the stuff in America. Judd said the people Alaric’s after aren’t very nice.”
I’m sorry. What?
“Back up a bit. What did you just say?”
“The painting thing—Judd said the people who took it could be dangerous. I haven’t seen any more dodgy art at the gallery, in case you were wondering. Hugo’s had a cold the whole week, so he’s been moping around and complaining instead of working.”
“No, I meant the part about Alaric being gay?”
“You didn’t know?”
“Well, I don’t think he is.” He definitely knew how to please a woman.
“Really? But I heard him…you know…with Ravi.”
“What?” Was she serious? “When?”
“The first night I was at Judd’s place.”
“You must have been mistaken.”
Although hadn’t Emmy also thought Ravi batted for the other team?
“No, I don’t think so. When we walked past the bedroom door, I could hear…uh…”
“Gemma…”
“Balls on flesh, okay? It’s quite a distinctive sound. And Judd, he just chuckled and said that Ravi and Alaric were up to their old shenanigans again.”
Alaric and Ravi? My knees gave way, and I slumped onto a hay bale. I felt sick. No, not at the thought of that. Rather, at the loss of a man I’d never truly had. I… I really, really liked Alaric, yes, in that way, even if I’d been in attempted denial. The big speech in England he’d made, the one where he’d told me he wasn’t worth it… I’d thought that if I just stuck around long enough and showed him that he was, maybe things could be different. His words replayed in my mind. I live in the shadows, Beth. I’m no Prince Charming. And I’m not the kind of man you throw your entire future away for. It’s only a job. Had he been talking about himself as relationship material? Or merely as an employer? I’d believed it was the former. At least, I’d wanted to believe it. But what if I’d been wrong?
Another memory popped into my head, of Alaric telling me he wasn’t in the market for a woman. I’d assumed he meant work took priority at that time, but what if he’d been trying to tell me in a roundabout way that he preferred men?
“Beth?”
“Oh,” was all I managed to say.
“Shit, I’m sorry. You like him?”
“Alaric’s just a friend. Really. If he’s happy with Ravi, then I’m happy he’s happy.” Desperate to change the subject, I latched onto something else. “What were you doing up with Judd in the middle of the night?”
A long pause.
“I was a bit upset. Everything…it just got to me. I was trying to stay quiet, but Judd must have superhuman hearing because he heard me crying and came in to check I was okay. And when I wasn’t, he took me downstairs and made me hot chocolate. See what I mean? He’s nice. And he looks out for me. He drives me to work every day and picks me up, and…and…that’s the main reason I’m calling, actually. Judd said not to say anything, that he’d handle it, but…”
See? I was right, even though I wished with all my heart I’d been wrong.
“What happened?”
“Judd picks me up from the gallery, and he waits out the front in his car. Did you know he drives a Jaguar?”
“No.” And I didn’t care either. “Gemma, what happened?”
“There was a girl standing outside this afternoon with a baby in her arms. Really nervous looking. And she asked if I knew an American man who’d been asking questions on the Bellsfield Estate.”
Alaric. Or possibly Ravi. It had to be. And they’d been asking those questions right before we’d killed a man. Me, Alaric, Ravi, Emmy, Sky, and Gemma. We’d all been involved.
Shit.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing! I had no clue what to say. Judd got out of the car, and I thought he’d help me, but then this woman walked past on the phone—one of those hoity-toity types, you know the ones—a
nd she wasn’t watching where she was going. She just walked right into the girl. And the girl fell into the road, and there was a car coming…”
Now I felt even sicker. “The baby?”
“She tried to jump out of the way, but she lost her balance and kind of threw the baby. I managed to catch it, but Judd couldn’t get to her in time.” Gemma gulped back a sob. “She bounced off the car and hit her head on the pavement.”
It was a good thing I’d sat down already. This whole case was jinxed. More than once, Alaric had muttered about the Becker paintings being cursed, and I was beginning to believe him.
“Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. She’s in the hospital. We followed the ambulance in the car, and the police were on their way, and I was panicking because what if she knows what we did and she tells them? And Judd told me not to worry, that he’d sort it out.”
At that moment, I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“What did he do?”
“Well, they wouldn’t tell us anything at first because apparently they can only talk to next of kin. So he fibbed a tiny bit.”
Uh-oh. “What did he say?”
Another pause, and I imagined Gemma biting her lip the way she always did when she got nervous.
“He told the nurse that the girl was his wife and the baby was his.”
“He did what?”
“The good news is that we’re allowed in to see her now—I’m his sister, by the way—but Alaric isn’t answering his phone and neither is Emmy, so Judd basically made up a name for the girl because we have no idea who she is. Plus we also have a baby to look after. I don’t suppose you know where Alaric disappeared to?”
“No, but he’s meant to be coming to pick me up soon.”
“Oh, thank goodness. Could you get him to call Judd? And don’t tell him I told you any of this. We didn’t want to worry you.”
Usually, I tried to avoid swearing out loud, but “fuck” really was the only appropriate word in that situation. It just slipped out.
“Where’s the baby, Gemma?”
“On the sofa. Judd’s gone to the shop to buy food and nappies.”
