Chloe whimpered as I attacked her mugger, and I noticed her purse and its contents strewn across the ground. I suddenly realized she could be hurt—what it the guy had brandished a knife at her and sliced her open? I let go of him and rushed to Chloe, and her assailant took his chance and darted off into the night.
“Fuck, Chloe,” I managed to get out, picking her up and pulling her into my arms. I checked in a frenzy to see if she was all right, my fingers feeling around for a nonexistent wound. She was fine, but my mind couldn’t comprehend it just yet, and I found my own fingers shaking almost as badly as Chloe’s were. “What the hell happened here? Who was that? Did he take anything?”
“No, no, I think I’m okay,” Chloe said shakily, feeling up and down her body as if she still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not she was in one piece. Then she wrapped her hands around my neck and I held her close for a second, thankful that she was—seemingly—all right.
We both bent down at the same time, picking up the stuff from her purse. “Is anything missing?” I asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” she replied in a small voice. “Phone, bank cards… everything’s still here.”
“I have to call the police,” I muttered, helping her get up and fishing for my cell in my pocket. Claremont Bay was generally a pretty safe city, and I wanted to keep it that way. “Did he try to hurt you? Did he have a weapon?”
“No. But…wait,” Chloe said, her hands going to her sides as she looked down at her jeans. “He kept touching my hips. I thought he was gonna stab me or something, but there was no knife or any other weapon, not that I could see. I think he stuffed something in my pocket when he was holding my sides.”
My eyes followed hers, and they widened when I saw the piece of paper sticking out of her pocket. She grabbed it and unrolled the lined notebook paper in front of us, her hands shaking so badly that I had to help her hold it up so we could read it.
‘Killer Daddy’s Girl—He did it, and you know it. We ALL know it. So keep your dirty little mouth SHUT and stop digging or there will be consequences.’
We stared at the note in stunned silence for a moment.
“Jesus. That guy wasn’t mugging you, Chloe,” I finally said, and she moved closer to me, seeking comfort in the crook of my arm and snuggling as close as she possibly could. “He was trying to send a message and scare you off.”
“Who would do that?” she asked, and I held her close to get her to calm down a little or at least stop shaking so badly. “Why would anyone do that? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I guess someone wants you to stop telling people you think he’s innocent,” I replied. “They must really think your dad deserves to be in prison to attack you like that.”
“That’s awful,” she muttered. “I…he’s my dad. Of course I think he’s innocent.”
“I know,” I murmured into her hair, kissing her forehead. She felt so fragile and vulnerable in my hands, and for a moment, I worried about losing her like I thought I was going to when I saw her with the attacker. It made my grip on her tighten. “Chloe, I don’t mean to be a prick, but…”
She raised her wide eyes to meet mine. I felt like a dick as I smoothed some hair off her face, but this needed to be said for her sake. “Maybe it’s time you accept that your father did this and try to move on. The fact that you’re still going around saying he’s innocent after all this time is obviously pissing off some assholes out there, and I don’t want to see you in trouble. If something happened to you, I…”
I left my sentence hanging in the air, unsure of how to finish it. I could only hope Chloe understood I was being honest, that she meant so much to me that I couldn’t fucking stand to see her get hurt.
“But I’ve done nothing wrong,” she repeated, and her voice was shaky as she averted her eyes. I got the impression she was hiding something from me, and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “There’s nothing wrong with me saying what I think is true. And I think he’s innocent. I really do.”
“I know. I guess other people don’t like hearing what you think is true,” I said softly. “Anyway, we need to call the cops and report this.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, she started shaking her head vehemently, her pleading eyes meeting mine and begging me not to do it. “Please don’t,” she said. “I’m fine, that guy didn’t hurt me, and I just can’t deal with having the police involved right now. Mom would have a heart attack and your dad would be right there with her. They don’t even know…”
She didn’t finish her sentence, but we both knew what she meant. Neither of our parents had a clue about our little visit to the state penitentiary to see Chloe’s father a few weeks ago.
“All right,” I replied in a cool tone after a long, uncomfortable silence. It didn't mean I agreed with what she was asking of me, but I couldn't deny her what she wanted. If our parents knew about Chloe being assaulted tonight because of her father, they would immediately increase the security at the house and grounds of Briarwood and likely even assign a private security team to Chloe and her mother. We could afford it, after all.
Higher security would mean that Chloe wouldn't be able to sneak out again to see her father, because someone would always be watching her. As opposed as I was to the idea of her visiting her father—especially after what happened last time—I couldn’t say no to her. Not when she loved him so much.
It wasn't my place to stop Chloe from seeing him or doing anything else she wanted. I could merely do my best to make sure she came out of whatever awful situation that occurred unharmed, and that was exactly what I intended on doing. I was going to keep her safe, and tonight’s incident with the masked assailant would never, ever be repeated.
I pulled her close. She was trembling badly, probably from the cool night as well as the terror she’d just experienced, and she snuggled gratefully against my body.
“Are you gonna be all right?" I muttered into her hair, and she nodded slowly with a soft sigh. I realized she wasn't completely sure, and even though we'd straightened out the subject of calling the cops, it still felt like she was keeping something from me. "Is there anything else on your mind?"
Chloe went rigid in my arms, her whole body stiffening as I held her. I pulled back and flashed her a concerned look, but she wouldn't quite meet my eyes, which confirmed that something else was going on inside that pretty little head of hers.
“I can't tell you," she whispered, turning away.
I put my hands on her shoulders and made her face me, my expression now clouded with concern. "What's going on, Chloe?" I asked. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm not going to judge you, no matter what it is. I hope you know that."
“Yeah. I do,” she said softly, but I could tell she wasn't convinced. I was about to launch into another speech when her lips parted and words started spilling out as if a dam had broken inside her. “It’s just…you might hate me for telling you. You might think I'm an awful, awful person, and I just can't risk that.”
A part of me wanted to ask her why, but I knew how important this moment was in order for me to gain her trust, so I simply wrapped her up in my arms again. She accepted my hug with gratitude and I held her like that for a long moment. “I'm not going to hate you,” I said softly. “Whatever the hell it is, I could never hate you. I think you know that, Chloe.”
She hesitated for a moment before pulling back a little, her wide eyes meeting mine. “Okay.”
“Okay as in you’ll tell me?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’ll…I’ll tell you,” she said, her voice shaky and her breaths quick and shallow. “But you can’t tell anyone else.”
“I won’t.”
“There was this party, over a year ago now.”
“Yeah?” I nodded and urged her to go on, but tried not to be too impatient. I needed to know what had been weighing on her so heavily, making her think she couldn't tell me, but I couldn’t rush her. I was certain it wasn't as awful as Chloe thought, though. "
What party?"
“It was a birthday party for a girl I went to school with.” Her voice was soft and I had to strain to hear her speak. “I was there with my best friend. It was my first real party and….well, I got a little drunk.” She smiled, but it was bitter. “Okay, a lot drunk.”
“Did something happen?” I asked, and the mere thought of some guy hurting Chloe at that party had my hands tightening into fists. No one better have touched her, because I would beat them into a bloody fucking pulp.
“I knew my dad wasn’t home that night, but my mom was, and I didn’t want her to see me so drunk. So I got a ride from my friend and went to one of my dad’s investment houses to crash there instead,” she continued in the smallest of voices. "It was the house...the house where your mom was killed, Asher. On Fontenot Avenue.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, my voice a little strained. "But you probably went there sometimes, right? It's not like it's a big deal.”
She swallowed thickly, her eyes going to mine and begging me to understand. “The party happened on the night your mom was murdered, Asher,” she said.
My heart dropped in my chest. I didn't know what to say to her, but I hoped my eyes said enough, and I kept them on hers and pressed her small body tightly against mine. “Okay,” I said, my voice laden with the emotions that were overwhelming me. “Did you…did you see her at all?”
“I'm not sure.” Chloe was shaking all over, and no matter how hard I held her, she couldn't stop. "I was only there for an hour or so, and then I think I took a cab home. I don't remember anything about the night except for a few flashes, really.”
“Well, you were probably totally out of it,” I replied. "If it was your first time drinking that much, you must've just passed out for a little while and then gone home when you felt a little better. Right?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly. I told Mercedes I left because the bed was too uncomfortable. But…”
She chewed on her bottom lip nervously, and I gave her a questioning look. “Is there anything else?” I asked, and she just looked at me with her eyes empty and so very scared. “Chloe, did you see something?”
“I'm not sure," she admitted. “Because I can't remember anything properly. But what if...” She swallowed again, even harder this time. “What if I had something to do with your mom's murder, Asher? What if I was there when it happened, and I could’ve stopped it but I didn’t because I was so wasted?”
“No,” I replied right away. “No fucking way.”
Jesus, this was the secret she’d been carrying around? I couldn’t even imagine the burden it must’ve been for her, but I was certain there was no connection between Chloe being in that house on the night of my mother's murder and the actual murder itself. There couldn't be, and I explained all this to her as best as I could.
“Chloe, I know you. I know you’d never do anything to hurt anyone, and if you saw anything that night, you would’ve called the cops or done something to help. Like you said, you were only there for an hour or so, and you were drunk and only half-conscious that entire time. My mother was probably asleep until you decided to leave, and you never even saw each other,” I said. “You had nothing to do with her death. Nothing at all. I know it.”
I smoothed a strand of dark hair off Chloe's face as I spoke. Her face turned hot, and I thought she'd never looked quite so beautiful or quite so vulnerable before.
“That’s what I keep trying to tell myself. But..." Her eyes went to mine again. “You're not mad at me, are you?”
“Why would I be? It’s just a horrible coincidence that you were there that night.”
She shook her head. “But what if we’re wrong about me never seeing your mother that night? What if I did see something and forgot?” she asked, biting her bottom lip again. Her eyes swelled with tears. "And what if...”
Her voice trailed off, and I frowned. “What if what?”
She looked down at her feet. “Asher, what if I was the one who hurt your mom? I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Her chest started heaving as I pulled her against me, holding her steady in place as sobs racked her body. “You didn't, Chloe," I said with all the conviction in my body, because it was truly what I believed. “You had absolutely nothing to do with what happened to her and you need to stop blaming yourself right this second, okay?"
“I know. It’s just so hard when I can’t remember properly,” she whispered, sniffling a little. “But thanks for believing in me.”
“It’s fine. And I'm serious,” I said. "You had nothing to do with it, Chloe. I trust you completely, and like I said earlier, I know you're a sweet, caring and honest person. You wouldn't hurt a fucking fly."
The mere thought of her obsessing about this and getting upset made me upset myself. She shouldn't have to worry about this shit, and I decided on the spot that we'd get to the bottom of this mess together and help her remember exactly what happened that night while she was in the Fontenot Avenue house. I wasn't sure how, but I was going to make it happen.
"Chloe," I said, and she looked up at me. "Please, don't worry about it. I'm glad you told me about this, and I promise you, we're gonna find out exactly what happened that night one way or another. Okay?"
“Okay.” She nodded, and a small, albeit sad, smile lit up her face. "Thanks, Asher. I really appreciate it. I don't...I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“Well...” I grinned at her wickedly. "You'd still be a virgin, for one.”
She punched my arm playfully and I grinned at her, pulling her to my side. “Come on, let's go back to the restaurant before our parents report us as missing. Are you gonna be okay?”
“I think so. God, I’m so sorry,” she said, wiping her face. “I’m so selfish. You’ve had a horrible night as well, after hearing what your dad had to say back there, and here I am whining about all my stuff.”
I shrugged. “Nah, I’m fine. I was mostly just shocked by what Dad said, that’s all. Needed some time to think about it.”
“And what did you end up thinking?” she asked softly.
“I guess now I know why he’s been so frosty to me over the years—I always thought it was because I looked a bit like my mom. But now I know it was just out of guilt. He felt bad about not being able to take away the pain of abandonment and rejection from me, and that made him avoidant.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. That’s such a guy thing to do; avoid all your issues,” Chloe said with a wry smile.
I grinned again. “There’s that fiery spirit rearing its head again. I guess you’re already feeling a little better, huh?”
“Yeah. But I’m still scared after what happened tonight.”
“I know. But you’re safe with me. Always. So come on,” I replied softly, reaching for her hand. “Let’s go.”
“Okay." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed my lips gently, her scent permeating my bubble and lingering around me. I wanted to kiss her deeper, harder, but I knew I had to wait a while, and we really had to get back to the restaurant.
We walked out of the park hand in hand and only let go when we reached the block the restaurant was on. I could tell Chloe was still thinking about everything she’d told me about her night at the house where my mother died, but she was worrying needlessly. There was never any doubt in my mind that she had nothing to do with the murder and wasn’t even in the house when it occurred, and I realized that for once in my life, I was putting my full trust in another human being—something I’d never been able to do before.
As I contemplated all of this, the note flashed in my mind’s eye again; the one the mugger stuffed in Chloe’s pocket. ‘Killer Daddy’s Girl—He did it, and you know it. We all know it. Keep your dirty little mouth SHUT and stop digging or there will be consequences.’
Earlier, I’d been convinced that the note was simply a warning from someone who was simply sick to death of Chloe saying her father was innocent, so it hadn’t occurred to me until now that there was another very obvious and far
more insidious possibility. It said ‘stop digging’, which could easily just mean ‘stop digging around in your father’s case and saying he’s innocent,’ but it also made it sound like there was something about my mother’s case that was still hidden away.
Something that a little digging might uncover.
If that was the case, then maybe there was a chance that Chloe had been right all along. Maybe her father was innocent after all. Maybe someone else killed my mother, and now that person was stalking Chloe around and trying to shut her up, seeing as she was pretty much the only person defending her father at this point. Perhaps the killer was afraid that if Chloe kept proclaiming her father’s innocence, then other people might finally begin to listen to her and look into it, subsequently realizing that there was something the police missed the first time around—something that would free her father and cast suspicion on someone else.
Maybe Chloe even saw something incriminating that night when she was drunk at the Fontenot Avenue house; something the killer worried she was on the brink of finally remembering. Maybe that was the real reason he wanted to keep her quiet—enough to stalk her down in the city like this and assault her when she was alone.
If that was true, then we were entering dangerous territory by looking into it or even talking about it. That only made me more determined to keep Chloe out of harm’s way, and I set my jaw in a hard line as we kept walking. If there was indeed something more to my mother’s case that could place Chloe or anyone else in danger, then I was going to investigate, and I was damn well going to find out what it was.
Whatever it took, I was going to get to the bottom of Claremont Bay’s biggest scandal.
The real bottom.
Sixteen
Scandal (A Dirty Money Novel) Page 15
