“I think Wade has hidden depths but maybe is afraid to show them?” I suggest.
“Maybe.” She sounds dubious.
“Are you going to Winter Formal with him? Reed said he asked you.”
She grimaces. “No. I’m staying home. I hate Winter Formal.”
“Is it that bad? Everyone at Astor acts like it’s the best thing ever.”
“This is the South. Any time you can get dressed up and parade around, it’s going to be celebrated.”
“But not by you?”
“Nope. I hate that stuff. Is Steve letting you go with Reed?”
“Um, I doubt it. I haven’t talked to him about it, but I don’t think he’ll be on board with it at all. Besides, I don’t even have a dress. You never told me I’d need one for this.”
We share a grin. When we first met, Val told me I needed dresses for every event from weddings to funerals, but not a dress for a school dance. “You’ll need to get on that,” she says.
“Mmm,” is all the enthusiasm I can muster up. Dancing, dresses, and parties hold no interest for me right now, not until I find evidence to get Reed out of this mess. I am not going to let an innocent guy go to prison. The rest of the Royals might be down for that, but not me.
Ten minutes later, I pull up at the curb in front of a low-rise building in the city. I kill the engine and glance at Val. “Ready?”
“Remind me why we’re here again?”
“I need to talk to someone.”
“And you can’t call them?”
“I don’t think she’ll answer my calls,” I admit, shifting my attention out the window.
All of the statements Reed told us about are essentially true—or some variation of the truth. But Reed insists that this one isn’t. Plus, none of us ever remember seeing this server upstairs. So I decided to seek her out. I want her to tell this lie to my face.
“This place looks sketchy,” Val observes, leaning across the console to look out my window at the sprawling apartment complex.
She’s right. All the buildings look tired and worn. The cement sidewalk is cracked and buckling. Weeds creep up the chain link fencing that encloses the parking lot in the center of the buildings. But I’ve lived in far worse conditions than this.
“Do you think I should knock on the door or wait for her to come out?” I ask.
“Do you know what she looks like?”
“Yeah, she was part of the catering staff that came to the house once. I’d recognize her if I saw her.”
“Then let’s wait. If she’s not going to answer the phone, I can’t see her opening the door to you.”
“Good point.” I tap my fingers against the wheel impatiently.
“You ever think Reed did it?” Val says quietly after a few minutes.
“Yeah, I think about that.” All the time.
“And?”
“I don’t care.” And then, because I want Val to be clear on this, I abandon my stakeout for a second. “I don’t think he did it, but if it was an accident and they got in a fight where she fell and hit her head, then I don’t see why Reed should be punished for that. Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but I’m Team Reed.”
Val smiles and reaches out to cover my hand with hers. “For the record, I’m Team Reed, too.”
“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand and turn back to the window in time to see the door to apartment 5B swing open. “There she is!”
I scramble out of the car, nearly taking a header on the pavement in my haste.
“Ms. Myers,” I call out.
The petite, dark-haired woman stops, just inside the fence. “Yeah?”
“I’m Ella Harper.”
To my relief, her face registers no recognition. I straighten my blazer—one that I ruined by ripping the Astor Park badge off in hopes that it makes me look like a journalist. “I’m a reporter for The Bayview News. Do you have a minute?”
Immediately, a shield falls over her face. “No. I’m busy.”
She turns away, but I yell her name sharply. “Ruby Myers, I’d like to ask you a few questions about the statement you gave in the Davidson murder.”
I can only see the side of her face, but it’s pale and stricken. Suspicion spikes through me.
“I-I got nothing to say,” she stutters, then puts her head down and rushes to a vehicle parked three spaces away.
I can only watch as she climbs in and speeds out of the parking lot.
“Did you see that?” Val demands.
I turn to find her at my elbow. “What? That I suck as an investigator?” I want to stomp my foot on the ground like a spoiled kid. “I couldn’t even get one answer out of her.”
“No. Did you see what she was driving?”
“God, not you, too. Reed was hassling me about not knowing the difference between a truck and a car. It was an SUV?”
“That’s a Lincoln Navigator and it runs about sixty grand. This one still has the showroom shine, it’s so new. You said she was a catering waitress, right? You’re telling me she just found a bunch of money?”
“You think someone paid her to lie about Reed?”
“Maybe?”
I think it over for a beat, then hiss out a breath. “There’s only one person who really has anything to gain by pinning this on Reed.”
“Who?”
I lock eyes with Val. “My stepmother.”
28
Ella
After I drop Val off at home, I immediately speed back to the hotel. It takes me all of two seconds to find Dinah. She’s lounging on the sofa when I storm in, her eyes glazed and her hair slightly mussed up.
“Where’s Steve?” I demand, glancing around. If I’m going to confront Dinah about possibly paying off Ruby Myers, then I don’t want an audience. Steve will just antagonize her, and then she’ll clam up.
Dinah lifts one shoulder, her barely-there nightgown sliding halfway down her slender arm. “Who knows? Probably buying a sixteen-year-old hooker down at the wharf. He likes them young, you know. I’m surprised he hasn’t crawled into your bed yet.”
Disgust fills my throat. “Do you do anything but sit on your ass all day?”
“Why, yes. I shop. I go to the gym. Sometimes I fuck your stepbrother, Gideon.” She laughs drunkenly.
I loom over the couch, my arms crossed, but a part of me is hesitating. My plan was to come out and confront her about Myers, but I don’t know how to start. How would she have paid Myers off? Cash, right? I wonder if Steve would let me look at their bank withdrawals. Or does she carry around a bunch of cash?
Instead of accusing her right off the bat, I decide to use a different approach. Drunk people have lower inhibitions. Maybe I can squeeze some information out of her without her knowing I’m even doing it.
So I sit on the opposite end of the couch and wait for her to keep talking.
“How was dance practice? You don’t look very sweaty.”
I shrug. “That’s because I quit.”
“Ha!” she exclaims way too loudly. She points a shaky finger in my direction. “I told Steve that you joined just so you could sleep with your boyfriend.”
I give another shrug. “What do you care what I do with Reed?”
“I don’t. I just enjoy making the Royals miserable. Your unhappiness is a little extra something special.”
“Nice,” I say sarcastically.
“Nice gets you nowhere,” she snarls. But then her whole face crumples, and for the first time since I walked in, I notice that besides smelling like a brewery, her eyes are rimmed with red.
“Are you okay?” I ask uneasily.
“No, I’m not okay,” Dinah snaps, except this time her voice shakes a little. “I miss Brooke. I really miss her. Why did she have to be so greedy and stupid?”
I swallow my shock. I can’t believe she’s the one who’s bringing it up! Okay, this is perfect. I sneak a hand into my pocket and fiddle with my phone. Do I have a recording app? Can I get Dinah to say something incrimin
ating?
“What do you mean?”
Dinah’s eyes take on a faraway glimmer. “She said you were like us. Are you?”
“No,” I blurt out, and immediately regret it. Damn it. I should’ve said yes.
But Dinah seems too lost in her own world to notice my disagreement. “You need to be careful of those Royals. They’ll take you in and then stab you in the back.”
I watch my words this time. “How so?”
“It happened to me.”
Was this before or after you slept with Gideon? Before or after you decided to take down the Royals?
“How?” I ask instead.
She fiddles with one of the heavy rocks on her fingers. “I knew Maria Royal. She was the queen in Bayview. Everyone loved her, but no one saw how sad she was. I did, though.”
I frown. Where is she going with this?
“I told her I knew where she’d come from and how lonely it could be when you weren’t born into these circles. I was being friendly,” Dinah mutters. “But did she appreciate that?”
“No?”
“No, she certainly did not.” Dinah slams a hand on the coffee table, and I flinch in surprise. “The Royals are like the apple in the fairy tale. Golden on the outside, but rotten to the core. Maria didn’t come from money. She was poor trash from the wharf who opened her legs at the right time to the right man—Callum Royal. Once she was pregnant, he had to marry her. But Maria wasn’t satisfied with Callum’s devotion. She always wanted more, and woe to any woman who stood in her way of total domination over the males in her circle. She was a manipulative bitch who enjoyed playing both sides of the table. To the women, she was spiteful and cruel, running others down constantly. To the men, she was nothing but sweet words and compliments.”
Wow. This is a side of Maria Royal I’d never heard about. Reed and his brothers remember her as a saint. But then the comments Steve made when he dragged me out of school pop up in my head.
No living person is a saint.
On the other hand, Dinah isn’t exactly the most trustworthy person. And she probably paid someone off to send Reed to jail. I’d be stupid to believe anything she says.
Besides, even if Maria was a bitch, Dinah’s obsession with the Royals still doesn’t make sense. “You and Brooke had it in for the Royals and Steve because Maria Royal was rude to you at one time?” I ask in disbelief.
She sighs heavily. “No, honey. Maria Royal represents every other rich bitch around here. You’ve encountered these types at school. They’re the kind who believe their own shit doesn’t stink.”
Like Jordan Carrington. I guess in some ways, Dinah’s lecture isn’t completely crazy. Except the difference between us is that I don’t give a crap about Jordan while Dinah obviously cared a lot about Maria’s opinion.
“And the one time I tried to reach out to her, she slapped me down. Called me a whore and said I was nothing like her.”
“I’m sorry.”
It doesn’t come out sincere enough, because Dinah starts to cry. Big, fat tears roll down her face as she sobs. “No, you’re not. You don’t get it. You still think the Royals are wonderful. The only person who understood was Brooke, and she’s gone. She’s gone.”
It’s the perfect opening, so I take it. “Did you kill Brooke because she was trying to horn in on your piece of the pie?”
“No, damn you, I didn’t kill her.” Anger drips from Dinah’s tone. “Your precious Reed did.”
“He did not,” I answer between clenched teeth.
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”
I face her mocking gaze head on. “Did you pay Ruby Myers to say that Reed threatened to kill Brooke? Did you?”
Dinah smiles. A cold, humorless smile. “And what if I did? How will you prove it?”
“Her financial records. Callum’s investigators will find out the truth.”
“Will they?” She releases a short, angry laugh, her hand snaking out to grab my chin. “The Royal resources won’t buy Reed’s freedom. I’m going to do whatever it takes to see that piece of murderous shit in prison, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
I slap her hand away and jump off the couch. “You’re not going to pin this on Reed!” I spit out. “I’m going to prove that you paid off Ruby Myers. And maybe I’ll even prove that you killed Brooke.”
“Go ahead, Princess. You’re not going to find anything on me.” She tosses back her booze and then refills her glass.
Sick of her smug, awful face, I hurry off to my room and slam the door. The moment I’m calm enough to hold my phone without dropping it, I call Reed.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“I went to Ruby Myers’ house and—”
“What?”
He yells so loud that I have to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Are you kidding me? What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed?”
“You and I both know her statement is a lie,” I shoot back. Then, lowering my voice to a whisper, I say, “Dinah is up to her ears in this. She virtually admitted to buying Myers off.”
“Ella, dammit, stay out of this. Dad has investigators crawling all over this case and we haven’t been able to turn up new information. If Dinah’s involved, then you poking a hornet’s nest is only gonna get you hurt. I can’t have you hurt.”
“I can’t just sit around.” I stomp over to the window and yank the curtains open. Housekeeping always shuts them for some stupid reason.
Reed sighs. “Look, I know. I know it’s tough for you. But you just gotta accept that this is the right thing for all of us. If I accept the plea deal, it goes away. Instead of a year of uncertainty and then a few more years of appeals with all our dirty laundry parading across the front page, we get it over and done with.” More quietly, he adds, “It’s not gonna last that long.”
Tears well up in my eyes. “It’s not right. And I don’t want you gone for even a day.”
“I know, baby.”
But does he? There’s aloofness in his voice, as if he’s already putting distance between us. A little desperately, I say, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” His voice is rough and low and gravelly. “Let’s not fight. Let’s try to put this aside and enjoy the time that I’m still here. Before you know it, I’ll be back.” He pauses. “It’s going to be okay.”
But I just don’t believe him.
* * *
The next day, I try to act as if nothing awful is happening in our lives. As if Reed didn’t just announce he’s going to prison for a minimum of five years. As if my heart isn’t breaking every time I look at him.
He’s right in one sense. If we spend the next five weeks or so dwelling on the horrible future, he might as well start his sentence today.
So I go through the motions at school, acting like nothing’s wrong, but by the time the final bell rings, I’m exhausted from all that pretending and more than ready to go home.
I’m halfway across the parking lot when a sharp voice calls my name.
Instantly, I go stiffer than a board. Great. Jordan.
“We need to talk,” she says from about ten yards away.
I try to get the car door open, but Jordan’s at my side before I can escape. I turn around with a sigh. “What do you want?”
An evil gleam lights her gaze. “I’m calling in the favor.”
Every muscle in my body coils tight. Crap. I was really, really hoping she’d forget all about that. But I should’ve known better than to think that Jordan Carrington forgets anything, especially when it’s to her advantage.
“All right.” I fake a smile. “So who am I duct-taping to the school doors?”
She rolls her eyes. “Like I’d get an amateur to do my dirty work.” With a wave of her manicured hand, she says, “I think you’re going to like this favor, actually. It requires almost little effort on your part.”
Suspicion trickles down my spine. “What do you want?” I repeat.
Jordan gives me a
big, broad smile. “Reed Royal.”
29
Ella
It takes a few seconds for Jordan’s words to sink in. Once they do, I can’t stop a loud burst of laughter. She wants Reed? Um, yeah. Not happening, bitch.
“I’m not sure what that even means, but either way, Reed’s not on the table,” I say cheerfully. “So you should probably come up with something else.”
She cocks a brow. “It’s this or nothing.”
I grin. “Then I pick nothing.”
Jordan laughs at that. Or maybe she’s just laughing at me. “Sorry, did I say nothing? I meant, if you don’t uphold your end of the bargain, then ‘nothing’ is what your social life will be. As in, I’ll tell your father all about how you lied to him about the dance team so you could bang your boyfriend at a hotel. I’m pretty sure you’ll be grounded for life after he finds out.” She bats her eyelashes. “Or maybe he’ll pick up and move you to another state. Actually, maybe I’ll recommend that to him. I’ll even give him some brochures for really good prep schools upstate.”
Damn her. That’s totally something Steve would do, force me to transfer schools. If he finds out I lied about the away game and spent the night with Reed, he’ll lose his shit.
“So,” she says, her smile returning. “Should I tell you the details?”
“What do you want with Reed?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“I want him to take me to Winter Formal.”
My jaw falls open. Is she freaking serious?
Jordan rolls her eyes at my shock. “What? It’s not like you can go with him, unless your dad is suddenly on board with you dating a killer?”
I stare at her. “What happened to your whole speech about you not wanting to be with a killer?”
She shrugs. “I changed my mind.”
“Yeah? And why’s that?” I mutter.
“Because Reed’s star has never shone brighter.” She flips her dark, glossy hair over one shoulder. “When he was first arrested, his social status plummeted, but now he’s all these pathetic chicks can talk about. Unlike your trashy ass, the social hierarchy matters to me.” She shrugs again. “I want to go to the formal with Reed. That’s the favor.”