by Claire Raye
He turns his head quickly, his neck cracking, even as his eyes never leave mine. “I’m pleased to see you’re still here,” he says.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Trust me, it wasn’t so I could see you.”
He takes a deep breath, his hands resting on the counter. “You and I have some things we need to discuss,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow, taking another sip of my coffee, wishing it were something a hell of lot stronger. “You mean how you killed Mickey Parker and then beat up his son,” I spit out.
“Watch it,” he snaps, his hand slamming down on the kitchen counter, the sound echoing through the room.
“Or what?” I say. “You’ll do the same to me?” I don’t know why the fuck I’m antagonizing him like this, but I can’t seem to stop myself. It’s almost as though I want to push his buttons, torment him, even though I know he’s capable of doing far worse to me.
“You’re walking a dangerous line right now,” he says, his voice laced with venom. “Watch yourself.”
I roll my eyes at his implied threat, putting my coffee down as I walk to the island so we are standing opposite each other, the three feet of counter the only thing that separates us. “How the fuck could you do it, Dad?” I ask. “They are my friends. I’ve known them my whole fucking life. How could you?” My words are harsh, thrown at him in almost disbelief, as though this is all some personal attack on me.
Ray’s hands curl into fists on the counter as he stares across at me, his face completely devoid of emotion. “Business is business, Reid,” he says, as though he’s simply telling me what the weather is. “You’d do well to remember that.”
“Fuck you,” I shout, something inside me snapping at his words. “It’s not fucking business, it’s my best fucking friend. Someone who’s been there for me my entire fucking life, more than you ever have!”
My heart pounds in my ribcage, my chest heaving with ragged breaths. My father watches me, his posture unchanged, his voice calm as he says, “I never heard you complaining about the money that appeared in your bank account each month.”
It’s like a punch in the gut, nausea swirling, and I have to swallow hard just so I don’t throw up. “I never asked for that.”
Ray smiles, but it’s almost menacing. “Yet you didn’t tell me to stop either.”
I shake my head once, slamming both hands on the counter as I say, “Money from my father is a little fucking different to killing someone, Dad,” I say, emphasizing the word. “I don’t even want your fucking money…I can’t…Fuck!”
He lets out a long exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he’s losing patience with this conversation and needs it to be over. “Reid,” he says. “I need you to calm down.” His tone is condescending, and it makes me want to punch him in his fucking face. “We clearly can’t have a rationale conversation about this until you do. Now,” he says, pausing as he looks at his watch, “your mother is arriving soon, so I need to go to the airport. I expect you to be here when we get back so we can finish this. You can use the time I’m gone to calm down.”
I shake my head, looking away from him. “Right,” I mutter, hiding my surprise at the unexpected reappearance of my mother. Although it’s not like I should’ve assumed she’d tell me she was coming home, it’s pretty clear she doesn’t give a shit about me either.
He lifts his hand, pointing a finger right at me. “If you’re not here when I get home, you can forget about ever seeing another dime of my money.”
His words are said as a threat, but what he doesn’t realize is I don’t give a fucking shit about his money. Sure I might have spent it previously, when I absolutely needed too, but that was before I knew where it all came from. Before I knew what it really cost.
“You say that like I give a shit about your money.”
“Be here,” he says, ignoring my comment as he jabs his finger once in my direction before turning and walking out.
I don’t move, not when the front door closes, nor when his car starts up. I’m still standing here even as he backs out of the drive and onto the street. It’s only after he’s been gone for nearly five minutes, do I finally move.
Providence airport isn’t that far away and given she’ll be coming in on a domestic flight, I know I don’t have much time to fuck about.
I head upstairs, taking the steps two at a time until I reach my room. Inside, I pack up my bag, before grabbing anything else that I left in my room when I left for school two years ago and might still want. There isn’t much, just a couple of books and mementoes, some old photos of Caleb, Sienna and me. I shove it all into an old duffel bag in the back of my closet, along with some clothes I left behind, before taking both bags downstairs to my truck.
Before I leave though, I go back inside and into my father’s office. Jimmying open the lock on his desk drawer again, I reach inside and take out the black book that holds all of his dirty little secrets. Underneath it is a bunch of sealed envelopes that I never went through, but I grab those too, shoving them inside the cover.
I skip the bottom drawer, having no desire to touch those items and instead walk over to the safe. After I unlock it, my eyes roam over its contents, knowing that none of this belongs to me, but could still be useful.
I quickly walk back to the kitchen, grabbing some paper bags from a drawer before walking back into his office and emptying the contents of his safe. The cash fills three bags, while the jewelry all fits into one.
After I’m done, I close and lock the safe again, replacing the picture to cover my tracks. I contemplate smashing it, but I don’t, not wanting to give him any obvious clues that I’ve been in here. I need to buy as much time as I can.
And then, with one last glance around the room, I flip off the picture and walk out, knowing what I’m about to do means I am never ever coming back here.
When I get in my truck, my hands are shaking. I grip the steering wheel tightly, overcome with nausea and fear and a sudden need to get the hell out of here. I’m petrified of him coming back, but I’m absolutely fucking terrified about what he’ll do when he finds out what I’ve done.
I reverse out of the drive, my tires screeching as I turn into the street. Heading in the opposite direction of where I really want to go, I instead head into the city, memory driving me through the streets until I finally reach Washington Street.
After I’ve parked the car, I contemplate sending Caleb and Sienna a text asking them to pack their bags and get the fuck out of their house. But I know how they’ll react. Caleb will call me to ask what the deal is, and Sienna will freak the hell out.
I can’t do that to them. I need something more, something safer than just me warning them and hoping they do as I ask. This is about to become so much bigger than any of us can deal with.
Taking a deep breath, I gather up the things I took from my dad’s office, locking up my truck as I walk into the Providence police station.
The cop at the desk greets me with a wary look. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah,” I say, my hands still shaking. “I ahh, I need to speak to somebody, a…um, a detective or something.”
He’s curious now as he glances down at what I’m holding. “What’s this about?”
I shove a hand through my hair, my hands still shaking, my body wired all over again. “I have some information.”
“About?”
I take a deep breath, my hand running over my jaw as I let it out on a long exhale. “Raymond Bowen.”
The cop’s eyes widen in surprise and I watch as he immediately picks up a phone and says something. Evidently my father’s name warrants immediate attention, which should only scare me even more. “Someone will be right with you,” he says after he puts the phone down.
I nod, turning away as I find myself pacing the front reception area. After about a minute, an older guy in a suit walks out. “Can I help you son?”
“Yeah,” I say swallowing hard. “I need to speak to you about Raymond Bowen,
” I tell him. “But before I do, I need you to do something for me.”
The detective narrows his eyes, curious. “And that is?”
“I need you to send somebody to the home of Caleb and Sienna Parker,” I say, rattling off the address. “This affects them too, and I’m not talking until I know they are safe.”
The detective nods slowly as he turns to the reception cop and murmurs something that has him picking up the phone again. “Okay, it’s taken care of,” he says, turning back to me.
“Promise?” I ask, needing to know they’re safe.
“I promise, son,” he says, stepping toward me. “Now why don’t you tell me how it is you have this so-called information on Raymond Bowen?”
Feeling like I’m about to throw up, I grip the stuff I stole from my dad’s office tighter as I say, “Because I’m his son.”
Chapter Ten
Sienna
I don’t sleep, tossing and turning all night, listening to the sounds of the house, terrified that they’re more than just that, worried they’re Reid’s dad coming back to finish what he started. I worry about Caleb because despite acting like he’s fine, he’s anything but. I hear him call out after the house is dark and the fear creeps in. His dreams are loud and jarring, and with each day that passes he struggles even more.
We can’t go on like this: Caleb and me, Reid and me, all of us. We’re far more broken than we even realize. Apart we are a mess. We were always better together.
I’m lying in bed, the morning sun streaming in the windows and normally I’d be grateful for it after days of rain, but right now, nothing feels right and maybe the rain was more fitting.
Ruby’s words ring loud in my ears. Everyone who’s logical knows you should go to the police, but when you’re presented with the reality of the situation, it feels a hell of a lot different. The repercussions of going to the police could be worse than actually dealing with Ray Bowen. And the last thing I want to do is put Caleb, and now Reid, at even more risk.
I can still feel Reid’s lips against mine. I can still smell him and feel the weight of his body when he grabbed me outside the house last night. He kissed me with forgiveness and desperation, and I felt it in every part of my body, reminding me that I loved him, reminding me that I still love him.
I pull up his text messages on my phone, reading his most recent one for what seems to be the hundredth time.
Reid: It was good to see you last night, to finally get a chance to speak to you and… well I meant what I said, Sie. All of it. I hope by tomorrow, things are different and you can believe me. Can trust me again. God I miss you so much.
My heart breaks for the millionth time, shattering in my chest as it does every single time I see him or hear his voice or read his text messages. Hell, even if I just think about him. I don’t know why I’m pushing him away, why I’m still harboring so much animosity toward him when I know deep down it isn’t him I’m angry with. None of this is his fault. He has as much control over his father as Caleb and I did over ours. Judging him by his father’s actions is hands down the most hypocritical thing I’ve ever done in my life and I’m starting to hate myself for it. How dare I judge him based on this, because I would be devastated if someone did the same for Caleb or me.
I drag my ass from the bed, already defeated by the day. The house is still quiet, and Caleb is soundly asleep on the couch when I finally make my way downstairs.
It’s where I’ve found him every day since I’ve come home, and I tiptoe around the kitchen making coffee, because the last thing I want to do is wake him. He doesn’t sleep and when he finally does, I do everything I can to keep him that way.
He’s lost weight and the dark circles under his eyes seem to be turning permanent. We can’t go on like this or it will eventually kill us. I let out a long, hard sigh, dragging a hand through my unwashed and tangled hair, snagging a few knots as I do.
We’re all a fucking mess.
I’m about to take the first drink of my coffee when the doorbell rings. Caleb shoots up from the couch, cringing as he clutches his ribs with his free hand.
“Don’t fucking answer it,” he whisper-shouts, stumbling toward the window, pulling the curtain back slightly.
The adrenaline that courses through my bloodstream kicks my heart into overdrive, my hands shaking as I suddenly have no control over my breathing. I’m gasping for air, swallowing it in huge gulps, but never feeling like I can get enough.
“Caleb, who is it?” I ask, my words so shaky I can hardly understand them myself. I’m scared I might puke on the floor, as we both stand here terrified of what could be. I swallow hard, fighting back the fear-filled tears that sting in my nose.
“It’s the police,” Caleb says, his words strangled in his throat, blocked by all the worry and dread that has been building since he was attacked.
“Then open the fucking door,” I nearly scream, feeling like all common sense has gone out the window.
“Sienna, what if…” He doesn’t finish his thought, his eyes wide with all the craziness that’s running through his head, and while I don’t blame him, I know I need to step in and help. He isn’t rational right now and he won’t be until all of this is over.
“Go in the kitchen,” I tell him, tugging him away from the window when the doorbell rings a second time. This time the police officer pounds on the door, a closed fist connecting with it in a way that indicates urgency. “Go, now. I’ll answer the door.”
Caleb’s eyes are wide and the exhaustion that consumes him takes over once again. He looks defeated and scared, and this is not my brother. This is not the strong protector of our family that I once knew. He’s gone and in his place is someone whose life has changed dramatically over the last two years. I owe it to him to fix this.
Reid and I owe it to him.
“Go,” I say, my word firm and I shove him a little. This time he listens, retreating to the kitchen, but I know he isn’t in there drinking coffee and reading the news. He’s wired and on edge, panicked for all our safety.
I crack the door, my foot pressed against the back of it in case I need the extra bracing, but I’m smart enough to know that if these policemen want in, my skinny ass isn’t stopping them. It’s just become part of my life now—preparation for the worst.
“Can I help you?” I ask, a clipped tone as I cut each word off quickly. I stand a little taller, my shoulders back as I attempt to give an air of confidence when in actuality I’m losing my shit.
“We’re looking for Caleb or Sienna Parker. We’d like to speak to them about their father,” the taller of the two officers says.
“I’m Sienna Parker,” I tell them, but give them no more information. The last thing Caleb and I need is to share too much, to let on that we know what’s happened.
“We have reason to believe your father’s death wasn’t accidental and we’d like to talk to you both. Get some more information about what you know.”
“I don’t know anything,” I assert. “I just got home recently.”
“Miss Parker, we understand the circumstances and we also understand that you may be hesitant to speak to us, but I assure you, we’re here to help.”
I try to control the laugh that bubbles up in my throat. There’s no humor to the situation, but the irony is fucking off the charts. The police have yet to catch Ray Bowen doing anything illegal in all my life. Everyone knows he’s bad news. Everyone knows he’s killed people, shaken people down and ruined lives, but the police stay just enough out of it to make it scary.
“What makes you think I’m suddenly going to help you when for years you’ve let Ray Bowen run this town?” The words shouldn’t have left my mouth, but they’ve stayed hidden for so long, they’re beginning to rot. I can feel their bitterness in my stomach, eating away at me.
“We’ve got new information that is far more solid than we’ve ever had,” the shorter officer says, his hands now on his hips. “If you let us in, we can talk about it.”
/> “I’m not letting you in,” I say, and this time the laugh slips through, humorless and condescending. For all I know Ray Bowen is having our house watched and letting these men in could be the biggest mistake I make.
“Would you like to come down to the station?” one of them says and the smirk he gives me makes me want to smack him across the face. He knows that’s an even worse option than letting them in. He’s pressuring me to make a decision and while neither of them is any good, I choose the lesser of two evils.
“You know we’re not coming to the station so you might as well come in.”
I push the door open and step aside. I’m still dressed in the t-shirt and shorts I slept in but at least I put on a bra. Caleb is just as big of a mess with his disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes. It’s obvious we’re falling apart. Hell, we have fallen apart.
The officers look around the massive house, the furniture sparse and the walls empty. The curtains are drawn closed in every room, darkening it and giving the whole house an even more rundown appearance.
“Everything okay?” one of them asks, his tone somewhat patronizing and I’m starting to think it was a huge mistake telling them to come in.
“What do you think?” I ask, as we walk into the kitchen to find Caleb sitting there, looking like shit. The bruises on his face have taken on a yellowish hue and any scabbing has now disappeared revealing soft pink skin.
The officers pull out chairs and sit down across from Caleb who stiffens in his seat. I have no idea if the police were involved in the initial incident with our dad because Caleb held everything very close to him, telling me nothing of substance. Honestly, I figured our dad died of liver failure or something related to his excessive drinking. It didn’t come as that big of a surprise, but knowing what I know now, it’s clear Ray Bowen beat the shit out of him, too.
“I’m Thomas and this is Greg,” the taller officer says, as if using their first names will suddenly make us more comfortable. Like we’re just friends hanging out and chatting. “We’re here to help.”
