by Callie Rose
Huh. What do you know? Maybe he developed some manners in the past month.
Or maybe that’s giving him way too much credit.
I suppress an eye roll and work to keep my expression neutral as I head toward the bar with the empty glass. My mom worked hard to make this party a success, and I want to be here to support her.
Just as I deliver the wine refill to the bitchy woman, the doorbell chimes. I barely hear it over the rumble of conversation in the room, but Mom perks up a the sound too, so I know I didn’t imagine it. I give her a wave to let her know I’ve got it before heading toward the front of the house.
When I pull open the door, I frown.
It’s not more party guests.
It’s four cops.
At least, I’m assuming they’re all cops. Three of them are dressed in uniform, and the fourth is just wearing a suit and tie—but he’s the one who flashes a badge at me as they all step forward.
“Good evening.” He nods curtly. He has deep set eyes, a receding hairline, and a thin, straight nose. “I’m Detective Leland Dunagan, Fox Hill police department. May we come in?”
I step back automatically, forgetting for a second that this isn’t my house and I don’t have the authority to let them in. Not that I really have the authority to deny them either.
The four men stride into the house, turning toward the sound of voices emanating from the ballroom. I trail along after them, not sure what to do. Should I try to get ahead of them and warn Mr. Black they’re coming? It’s a little late for that. And what do they want?
The second they step into the ballroom, heads turn their way. Samuel notices them immediately and steps forward to meet them, Audrey right on his heels. From the corner, I can see Lincoln, River, Dax, and Chase all watching curiously.
“Excuse me, Officer. Can I help you?” Mr. Black’s voice is polite but cool. He obviously isn’t a fan of having his parties busted up by the cops.
“We’re here in regards to the death of Iris Lepiane,” the man in the suit—Detective Dunagan—says quietly.
My heart seems to skip several beats in my chest before thudding hard and fast like it’s trying to make up for lost time.
They’re here about Iris. About her murder. Does that mean their investigation has been progressing all this time, even though River didn’t learn about it from his dad?
And does that mean someone in this room is a suspect?
A wave of horror and disgust washes over me at that thought, but it’s drowned out almost immediately by relief.
It’s over. They found whoever it was. They’ll stop him.
Samuel’s eyebrows shoot up, and he shakes his head slightly, seeming confused. “You’re here about Ms. Lepiane’s death? I’m not sure what—”
“If you’ll step aside, Mr. Black,” the detective says, his voice almost an exact mirror of the other man’s. He’s being polite, but he’s not fucking around.
So much for the cops being in anybody’s pocket.
Samuel and Audrey share a look, and then he moves out of the way. He looks pissed, his face flushed with embarrassment and anger, and I’m sure the Fox Hill police department will be hearing about this.
Detective Dunagan raises a hand to gesture his men forward, and they cross the ballroom. The entire room has gone silent as everyone watches, and people melt out of their way as they cross the space.
The tall man in the suit finally comes to a stop near the bar… directly in front of my mom.
Time seems to slow down as I stare at the strange sight before me, my brain refusing to fully process it.
What is he doing?
What…?
Mom’s brown eyes widen, and she blinks up at him in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Penelope Thomas,” he intones gravely. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Iris Lepiane.”
26
No.
No. No, no, no!
That’s not right. That’s not fucking possible.
I lurch forward, but before I can cross the room toward them, two of the officers step out from behind the detective and take my mom by the shoulders. One turns her around, and the other secures her hands behind her back in a pair of metal cuffs.
She doesn’t resist, seeming almost as shocked as I am. Her gaze darts around the room, and the second it lands on me, I see fear well up in her eyes. Not for herself though, I don’t think.
For me.
She blinks at me, opening her mouth like she might say something, but no words come out.
I can hardly hear anyway. Detective Dunagan is reading her her rights, and the people in the ballroom are whispering to each other under their breath, but the only sound I’m aware of is a low rushing in my ears.
This isn’t possible. There’s been some kind of huge mistake.
The two officers each grab one of my mom’s elbows as they turn for the door. As they all cross back toward it, Mom stumbles over nothing, too surprised and overwhelmed to even walk straight. Her face is pale white, like all the blood has drained from her body, and she’s still shaking her head.
The detective brushes by me, and the band of tension in my chest snaps.
I let that asshole into this house. I let him come for her.
“Wait!” I scream, finally forcing my body into action. I turn and follow them, catching up as they reach the front door. They step outside, and I’m right behind them, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard it’s making me dizzy. “Wait!! What the fuck are you doing? You can’t just take her! Let her go! You can’t just take her like this!”
Detective Dunagan moves between me and the other officers, who still have a firm grip on my mom. “Miss, you have to back away. Step back.”
“No! I won’t fucking step back! That’s my mom! What are you doing? Why did you—”
“Low, it’s okay! It’s okay, sweetheart.” Mom’s voice is low and choked, but she shakes her head, trying to put a smile on for me. I don’t buy it though. I can still see the fear in her eyes, the disbelief. The utter confusion. “It’s okay. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. I’ll go with them and get it sorted out, and I’ll be back before—”
“No!” I launch myself at Detective Dunagan, and he raises his hands, catching me by the wrists before I can scratch him or punch him or do anything.
A second later, strong arms are pulling me away from him.
Dax.
The muscled boy keeps his grip on my waist even as I struggle in his embrace, trying to wriggle free, to reach my mom. To reach the detective.
No. No, goddammit, no! This isn’t right. He can’t fucking do this.
“I’m sorry, Detective, but what grounds do you have to arrest this woman?”
Mr. Black steps forward, his voice hard. A few people have followed us outside, although most of the party guests didn’t. All four of the guys are gathered around me though, helping Dax restrain me as I continue to struggle.
“We received an anonymous tip that placed Penelope Thomas at the scene of the crime and have found credible evidence to support that tip,” Detective Dunagan offers smoothly. “I can’t disclose more at this point. We have a warrant to search her car and parts of your home as well.”
Samuel looks livid at that, and I’m sure he hates the idea of anyone going through his house. But all I can focus on are the words “credible tip”. Someone told them my mom did it? Why? How?
“That’s not true!” I scream, finally breaking out of Dax’s grip as he loosens it a little in surprise. I charge back toward the detective, brushing right past Mr. Black in my fury. “That’s a lie! How could you believe that? It’s insane! My mom didn’t fucking kill anybody!”
Dunagan shakes his head. “Miss, I can’t—”
“I’m telling you, it’s not true!” Adrenaline is roaring through my body, like a fight or flight instinct on steroids. I hardly know what I’m saying—I just know that if they drive away with my mom in the back of a police car, part of me will die and
never come back. This can’t be happening.
He presses his lips together as the officers surrounding my mom start to pull her away. “Miss—”
“I know it’s not true!” My voice is a raspy, broken cry. “I was there. I saw. I saw Iris die. It wasn’t my mom, it was a man in black. He had a black mask and drove a dark car. He—he hit Iris on purpose. He killed her. Not my mom. It was him! Find him! The man in the mask, he’s the one you want.”
Detective Dunagan gives me a look that’s almost pitying, and live snakes seem to twist and writhe in my stomach.
Please, God. Please, no. Don’t let this happen.
“I’m not lying!” I gesture to the four boys behind me, turning to face them quickly. Their expressions are all grim as they stare back at me. “Ask them! They were there. We all saw! It was a man. He killed her on purpose. He checked the body.”
The tall detective sighs, transferring his focus to them with a slightly raised eyebrow. My chest burns, and I can feel tears tracking down my cheeks.
Fuck. I know we don’t have much evidence. But maybe we can still convince Dunagan. Maybe we can show him the pictures Lincoln took and at least get him to realize he needs to keep looking, that there’s someone else he should be trying to find.
“You all saw something?” the detective asks, his voice almost weary.
Lincoln glances at me, and something passes across his face—a look I can’t quite read. His amber eyes smolder like banked fires as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, tapping in his password and swiping across the screen a few times. Then he looks up and meets the detective’s gaze.
“No, sir. We didn’t. I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
The breath leaves my lungs like a crushing weight just descended on me. My chest heaves, but I can’t pull in any oxygen.
“No. I didn’t see anything,” River says quietly. “I’ve never heard about this man before.”
“Yeah, I dunno what she’s talking about,” Dax mutters. His jaw twitches as he says it, and when Chase echoes his words, the copper-haired twins both look almost angry.
What?
“They’re… lying,” I force out.
My voice doesn’t sound like my own, and I’m starting to feel that same numbness in my fingertips I did after we saw Iris die—like my body is becoming a foreign entity, something strange and uncomfortable my consciousness is trapped inside.
Detective Dunagan sighs, scrubbing a hand over his chin. “Miss Thomas, I know you’re worried for your mother. But making up stories won’t help her.”
“I’m not! They’re the ones who are lying!” I run toward Lincoln and pull the phone from his grip before he can stop me. “He took pictures. Look! Look! We have pictures of the man who did this! It’s not—”
My words break off. My finger swipes desperately over the screen again and again.
There are no pictures.
None at all.
Every single photo on the phone has been erased, wiped out with a few taps of Lincoln’s finger. That must’ve been what he was doing earlier when he pulled his cell out.
The small device falls from my hands, and I don’t know if it hits the ground. I don’t know if it cracks, don’t know if it breaks. And I don’t care.
My gaze tracks slowly up to meet Lincoln’s. His face is impassive, his eyes carefully blank.
“You…” I choke out. My lips feel numb, my throat tight. “You… How—could you?”
He doesn’t respond, and movement behind me pulls my attention away. The officers have opened the back door of one of the police cars and are putting my mom inside, one of them placing a hand on her head to make her duck.
My heart cracks; the blood it was pumping turns to poison.
I didn’t even get to hug her. Didn’t get to say anything to her before they took her.
The door closes with a dull thunk, and I see her pale, wan face staring back at me through the window. Tears cascade down my cheeks, blurring my vision as Detective Dunagan joins the other officer in the second car. Their lights flash, but no sirens wail as they pull around the circle drive and head back toward the main entrance.
They took her.
They just fucking took her.
They think she murdered Iris.
And the one piece of evidence I might’ve used to convince them otherwise is gone.
I stare at the place where the tail lights of the cop cars disappeared from view for what feels like hours. Then, slowly, I turn around.
My gaze catches on Mr. Black first. He looks shocked and angry, but pity rises in his face when he looks at me. He probably thinks I’m crazy—emotionally unbalanced. That I made all this stuff up just to try to save my mom. That I’d say anything, spout any lies I could think of, to stop them from arresting her.
Audrey is nowhere to be found. She must still be inside entertaining the guests, trying to downplay what happened. For the people inside the house, the party is still going on.
How is that possible when the whole world just came crashing down?
Reluctantly, almost against my will, I find the four boys standing in a group near the base of the stairs. They all wear slightly different expressions, but there’s one thing I see on each and every one of their faces.
Resolve.
What they just did wasn’t an accident. They knew what refusing to back me up and deleting those photos would mean. They didn’t even try to help.
For weeks, I went along with their secrets and their plans. I listened to them and trusted them when they said it was the only way. I honestly believed they had good intentions, that they were trying to handle a horrible, fucked up situation the best way they could.
I believed they cared about me.
But they don’t. They can’t, or they wouldn’t have abandoned me like this, let me dive off this cliff by myself. They wouldn’t have let me lose my mom, the person who sacrificed everything so I could live. The person who’s been my rock, my best friend, my everything.
The world is quiet. Or maybe it’s horribly loud and I just can’t hear any of it. Everything seems muffled as I stand across from the kings of Linwood, me on one side of an invisible line and them on the other.
They stare right back at me, their beautiful faces unreadable.
My tormentors.
My protectors.
My betrayers.
The Lie
1
My favorite color has always been blue.
I never had a least favorite before.
But I do now.
Orange.
I fucking hate it.
My mom smiles at me from behind the glass partition that separates us, and the sight of it twists my stomach into knots. She’s only been in here for four days, but when your mom’s been arrested for a murder she didn’t commit, four days feels like a goddamn lifetime.
“Harlow, sweetheart, it’s going to be all right,” she promises for the millionth time, and I do my best to smile back at her, even though it hurts my face.
I don’t see how that’s true, but I can’t stand that my mom, the one locked behind bars, is the one trying to comfort me. I should be protecting her, comforting her—hell, I shouldn’t have let Detective Dunagan and those other cops haul her away in the first place.
That thought makes my stomach clench so hard I think I might throw up, so I push it away, attempting to slow my heart rate by sheer force of will.
“Are you okay? Are you sure you’re doing all right?” I scoot to the edge of my chair, getting as close to the glass divider as possible. “I can’t believe they won’t even let you out on bail. This is fucking bullshit. You didn’t do anything.”
“Low.”
Mom shoots me a disapproving look, shaking her head slightly. Normally, she doesn’t really care about my tendency to curse like a sailor. She had me when she was nineteen and raised me on her own, so we’ve always been as much like sisters as mother and daughter. I heard those words from her lips plenty of times g
rowing up.
But when her gaze leaves me, it darts to the guard standing near the door, looking bored out of his mind—and I know it’s not the swearing she minds so much as where I’m doing it. She doesn’t want me to say something to rile up the guard or get myself in trouble.
And that’s what tells me, more than anything else, that she’s scared.
She may be trying to put on a brave face for me, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s caught in a system now that won’t let her go until she proves her innocence.
And whoever put her here, whoever called in the anonymous tip to Detective Dunagan and his buddies, did everything they could to make sure that never happens.
I’m losing my battle to keep my emotions under control—again.
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth hurt, and I blink back the tears that make my eyes sting.
Motherfucker.
Mom can read me like a book, so she sees on my face that I’m about to lose it and scoots closer to the window dividing us too. Her gaze flicks to the guard by the door one last time, then she looks back to me, her voice softening to a whisper.
“I hate this, Low. I hate it so much. But we have to just… have faith in the system. We have to believe that when the truth all comes out, they’ll know it wasn’t me. It has to be possible to prove that, because it’s the truth.”
“I know it is, but—”
My voice is ragged and too loud, and she cuts me off, putting her hand against the glass.
“It will be okay. The lawyer Samuel recommended is excellent; she really knows her stuff. I’ve got money saved up from my first few paychecks, and beyond that… well, we’ll figure it out.”
We’ll figure it out.
Loans, maybe. Credit cards.
My chest squeezes painfully, and I have to fight down the urge to yank the phone receiver from the wall and bash it against the glass until it breaks—the receiver, probably, not the glass. I’m sure the clear pane that separates us is made of some kind of unbreakable material.
