by Marlie May
“This isn’t even a first date.”
“You’ve got a point.” He held open the door to the police station and waved for me to enter ahead of him. “The ambiance is way off.”
Inside he marched up to the desk. Bold as day.
“What can I do for you?” asked the woman sitting behind the desk. “You here for the Chief?”
The Chief? I grimaced. Talk about going all the way to the top. I wanted answers, not a tour of the first available jail cell.
“Nah, not today.” He nudged his head toward me. “We’d like to speak to whoever’s handling the Davis yacht case.”
I gave her the date and she looked it up in her computer. “That’ll be Officer Brent.” She reached for the phone. “I’ll get him for you.”
“It’s okay,” Manly said with a laugh. “I know where to find him.”
Lovely. How far did his criminal past go beyond punching someone?
“This way.” He led me down a hall. “Officer Brent’s office is at the end.”
I refused to ask how he’d know this.
He knocked on the partly opened door, and someone called, “Come on in.”
Manuel creaked the door the rest of the way open and strolled inside, with me following.
An officer looked up from where he was reviewing papers lying on his desk. “Emanuel, buddy.” He stood, extending his hand. “Good to see you.”
“Officer Brent,” Manuel said. “This is Janine Davis.”
“Janie,” I hissed.
“Janie it is,” Manuel said, a hint of laughter in his eyes. Ass.
“Take a seat,” Officer Brent said, and after, “What can I do for you kids?”
Manuel explained while Officer Brent studied me.
I added details I’d read in the report I found in my father’s office.
Officer Bent clicked into his computer and frowned at the screen.
Before he could say anything further, someone knocked on the door and poked his head inside the room. “John, I—” The scowl he sent our way made me slide lower in my seat. Or, the scowl he directed at Manuel, that is. Grumbling, he stepped inside the room. Tall, graying hair at his temples, narrow but muscular build. “Emmanuel? What are you doing here?”
“Crap,” Manuel mumbled. “I thought he had the afternoon off.”
“You in trouble again, son?” the man asked. Not said like he was joking, unfortunately. This man’s tone rivaled that of a pastor at a funeral.
“Hey, Chief Sancini,” Officer Brent said.
Son. Chief of Police. Of course. So much for Manly’s magic.
“You,” I said, frowning at him.
“I’ll explain later,” Manuel said to me, and to his father, “I’m not in trouble again. It was just one punch.”
With his shoulder braced against the doorframe, Chief Sancini growled. “You dropped a senator to the floor with your fist.”
I gasped. “A senator?”
Manuel smirked. “Go big or go home.”
“You going to introduce me to the little lady, son?” his father asked.
Manuel made the introductions.
“I can handle this, John,” Police Chief Sancini said to Officer Brent. “Why don’t you kids come with me?” He waved for us to follow, and we crossed the hall and entered another office.
“Have a sit.” Rounding his desk, Chief Sancini dropped into a big wooden chair while we took two smaller ones across from him. “If you haven’t assaulted anyone, son, then why are you here?” His shifty eyes pinned me in place. He had to be joking around, right? “You haven’t gotten this little lady in trouble, now have you? Punching’s one thing, but if you’ve come down here to confess something like that, you’re on your own.”
Like we’d come to the police station to confess a pregnancy? I shriveled in my chair. Could I escape before this went any further?
“Shit, Dad.” Manuel rammed his fingers into his hair. It flopped back onto his forehead in seconds. “Stop fooling around.”
Manuel’s father shook his finger. “Don’t you swear in front of me, let alone this young lady.”
Manuel drooped as low as me in his chair and tapped his sneaker on the desk. “Sorry.”
“No grandbabies in my foreseeable future, then.” Chief Sancini shook his head. As if this was a problem.
Staring back and forth between them, I gulped. The dynamics between these two…well, talk about awkward.
“Dad, please.” Manuel’s voice came out utterly defeated, and I felt bad for him. Since this was embarrassing for me, I could only imagine how he felt about it.
My face burned with fury. His father was a piece of shit. But we didn’t have to put up with this sort of crap. Since his father seemed to be treating this like a comedy, I’d find my answers a different way. I grabbed Manuel’s hand and tugged him up to stand with me. “Let’s go.”
“I was only kidding,” Chief Sancini said, but his eyes weren’t exactly laughing. “Sorry. Please take your seat again. You came to the station for a reason, and I might be able to help.”
A nice switch in behavior, but I wasn’t convinced he meant it.
“It’s nothing,” I said shortly. “We’re done here.” I widened my eyes at Manuel and mouthed, “Right?”
“More than done.” He started for the door but paused and grumbled. By the high color in his cheeks, I could tell he’d like to storm from the office but was torn. He turned and glared at his father. “We need answers about this case, and we’re not leaving without them.”
All humor fled Chief Sancini’s face. “Wait a minute. Case? You aren’t just here for a visit? If you being here is regarding police business, you need to take those seats again.”
We did, and he leaned back in his chair, studying me while I explained. The only part I left out was my search of Mr. Somerfield’s office.
“Well, I’d like to help you, but that case is closed,” Chief Sancini said.
I bolted forward. “What?”
“You sure?” Manuel asked at the same time.
“Of course, I’m sure.” Leaning on the arm of his chair, he clicked into the computer and studied the screen. “Closed August fifteenth.”
I yanked on my hair, unable to believe the police was no longer investigating. “You don’t think it’s murder?”
“Our initial investigation suggested foul play but with further research, we realized our conclusions were unfounded.”
“What do you think caused the yacht to burn, then?” Manuel asked.
“Fireworks. The cooking oil in the galley. That’s where the evidence shows the fire started. Cooking fires on boats are more common than you think, especially when there are explosives like fireworks involved.”
Had I broken into Mr. Somerfield’s office for nothing? But what about that note about me snooping? And the lamp in the library.
“The distress call was the final proof,” Chief Sancini said.
My pulse skipped. “What distress call?”
“The one your father made saying the boat was on fire. A mayday call.”
How had I missed that in the police report?
“But—” I gulped. “What about Mr. Somerfield?”
Chief Sancini frowned. “Who?”
“My father’s business partner. I think he’s involved. I just haven’t found enough evidence, yet.” I explained about the partnership and the codicil that let him buy the stock at a low price days before the company released a profitable app. Plus, the document Dad had drawn up to dissolve the partnership. “All this is rather convenient, don’t you think? It’s a motive.”
“I already told you we’d closed the case, ruling it an accident,” Chief Sancini said softly. He looked ready to lean over the desk and pat my shoulder. “Please tell me you’re not looking into this yourself.”
My eyes fell to my hands pinched together on my lap. “Not exactly.”
His sigh made me wince, and the weight of his gaze pressed down on me for far too long in the si
lence that followed. Hints of Manuel shown in the Chief’s gaze, only sharper, and it was beyond intimidating. “Because, if you are looking into this, I’m telling you right now that I want you to stop.”
We were talking about my parents and Brianna. I wasn’t going to let this go as easily as the police had. “Can’t you reopen the case? You must agree that this stock purchase sounds suspicious.”
“While the circumstances do point to something unusual, you just said the agreement had been in place for a period of time. Exercising his legal right shortly after this incident is hardly enough evidence to convict someone of murder.”
“I’ll get more—”
His hand rose. “You will not do a thing. This is out of your hands, Ms. Davis. The case is closed. Of course, if something comes up or we have questions for you, we’ll be in touch.” I’d heard that last bit on one too many TV shows. The police always said that when they wanted the victim’s family to go home and do nothing.
Well, I wasn’t. I couldn’t.
Chief Sancini stared toward the door a moment before tapping his chin and turning back to face his computer. Frowning, he clicked through a few screens. He grunted and released the computer mouse. “You’re the daughter with the missing memory.” While his gaze had intimidated me before, now, it made me long to hide. “Have you remembered any details yet?”
At this point, I wasn’t sure I dared share anything further with him. He’d probably tell me the flashbacks meant nothing. “You just said the case is closed.”
The Chief’s face could fool competitors in a Vegas poker match. “It is. Unless you’ve remembered anything helpful.”
Helpful. Since I barely knew what the memories meant, it was doubtful he’d be able to ‘help’ me interpret them. It was obvious I wasn’t going to learn anything new here. I stood. “I think we should go.” I nodded to Chief Sancini. “Thank you for speaking with me.”
He crossed his arms on his chest, and his brown eyes—much like Manuel’s—studied me. Lord only knows what he saw. “You’re welcome.”
We left the office, closing the door behind us.
This had been a wasted trip. Why had I thought the police would actually be any help? Chief Sancini had made it clear I was to let this go but with the case closed, they were no longer looking into anything.
I wouldn’t discover the truth about what happened unless I found it myself.
Of course, I knew exactly what I needed to do next to further my investigation.
If only I didn’t have to do it.
Cringing, I paused in the parking lot and sent Sean a text. You want to go to Brandon’s party tomorrow night? He said you were interested in going. Because I’m in.
There were more ways than one to get to the bottom of this. Brandon’s party was at Brandon’s house, where his father had an office.
Sure, Sean replied. I guess I’m up for something like that.
I’ll be the designated driver. Beer was overrated, wasn’t it?
Decent of you.
Seven-thirty.
I’ll be waiting.
Inside my car, I turned the AC on high and we sat while the vehicle idled.
“I’m sorry. That was a bad idea, wasn’t it?” Manuel said. “My father was supposed to be at home today. I intended to stroll in there and get you some answers. Show you I did have a magic touch.”
“I still think you’re pretty magical.”
Leaning back against the door, he cocked one eyebrow. “Magical enough for that kiss?”
“Ha, ha. Not that magical.” He was cute but not that cute. “You’re just like him, you know. Your father.”
“What do you mean by that? He’s an ass.”
“You’re always joking around. The only difference is, he’s had time to practice so his jabs are sharper.” Chief Sancini knew which arrows stabbed Manuel deepest.
“We’re nothing alike.” When I huffed, Manuel’s lips twitched upward. “We’re not.”
“You keep thinking that if it makes you feel better.”
Manuel stared forward in silence, and I wondered if he was considering my comment.
Shifting my car into gear, I pulled out of the lot. “Maybe you should try being serious every now and then instead of always pretending life’s a big joke.”
Turning, his eyes fell to my mouth.
The expression filling his face was so hot, it made my fingers tremble on the wheel. My foot hit the brake, jerking the vehicle to a stop and sending us forward against our seat belts.
Behind us, someone laid on their horn.
But I couldn’t take my eyes of Manly’s.
He grinned. “How do you know I haven’t been serious already?”
13
Belly fluttering, I yanked my gaze away and gave the car some gas. The car jerked forward like a bucking horse.
Best to ignore his comment but I did wonder what he meant. He’d been joking again, hadn’t he?
“Where should I take you?” I asked.
“Out the Parkway. I’ll show you where to go from there.”
I tapped my fingers on the wheel as I drove. “Want to tell me why you punched a senator?”
“My little sister’s ten, and she has Cerebral Palsy.” The smile he sent me showed me how much she meant to him. “She’s had a ton of surgery, but she’s a real trooper. She’s stronger than I’ll ever be.”
I shrugged. Manuel seemed strong to me.
“Her legs weren’t growing the way they should,” he said. “They were deformed. So, the doctors are always working on them, doing things like putting in plates or lengthening tendons and muscles, anything to help her legs grow straight.”
“That’s got to be hard on her.” I’d only had minimal surgery but it was enough to last me a lifetime. At least I was old enough to understand why.
“My stepmom held one of those afternoon party things. A tea party to raise money. She’s the mayor and is running for re-election.”
The mayor? Manuel was one surprise after another.
“My sister dressed up for the party. She knows she’s a princess because that’s what I call her all the time. My little princess.” Jaw clenching, he stared forward before speaking again. “She pushed her walker out onto the patio, looking gorgeous, all decked out in a fairy gown. Even had a crown on her head. A grin bigger than the moon on her face.”
“What happened?”
“That senator took one look at her and while he did a great job covering it up, I heard him laugh.”
“She heard, too.”
“She always hears.”
“Can I punch him?”
He chuckled. “Be my guest. My father might not like it any more than when I did it.”
“You explained why you punched him, right?” I asked.
“I didn’t think my father would believe me.”
“He would’ve.” Wouldn’t he? I couldn’t imagine my father not believing me. Not believing in me. Sad that Manuel didn’t share the same confidence in his own dad.
“I didn’t want to test it.” His lips curled down. “He loves my sister but the senator had just given my stepmom a big campaign donation. No way would my father jeopardize that.”
That was crap. If you couldn’t stick up for a kid, what kind of person were you?
We rode in silence, me driving to his directions while I fumed about injustice.
“Confession time,” I eventually said.
Manuel darted a confused look my way. “What’s up?”
“I’ve already been investigating.” I explained how I’d snuck into Mr. Somerfield’s office.
“Cool.” He grinned. “What did you find?”
I puffed out a breath, making the loose hair hanging in my face scatter. “Not much. A few suspicious papers I took pictures of. But Mr. Somerfield’s my prime suspect. The only one, actually.” I hesitated. “I guess there could be a second one. My aunt.” I hated even suggesting her name.
“Really?”
Just
thinking she could be involved made me flinch. “She’s my heir if something happens to me. But I can tell she cares. I just can’t see her wanting to harm me. The lawyer said she’s entitled to a salary from my estate but she refused to take it at first, which kinda proves she’s not willing to do anything for money, right? I had to convince her to take it.”
“Doesn’t sound like someone who’d kill for an inheritance.”
“Maybe. Probably not.” I hated the worm of unease inside me that said I couldn’t completely trust her. But I’d have to. For now.
“We need to come up with a strategy, then,” Manuel said. He shifted around in his seat to face me. “It could be hard for you to do this on your own. If you want, I’ll help you find out who did this and make them pay.”
How awesome it would be to have someone helping me.
“Your father said the case is closed,” I pointed out. “That I need to stop investigating.”
He snorted. “Will a request from my father stop you?”
I didn’t need to answer. He already knew I couldn’t let this go.
“Then, yes, I’d love your help. You think we can handle this by ourselves?” What if our investigation put us in danger? If my parents and Brianna had been murdered, snooping around could put our lives at risk. I’d already been warned.
If he wanted in, I could include him in my upcoming plan. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
He shrugged. “Not much…” Brow narrowed, he glanced my way. “Yet?”
“There’s a party tomorrow night. I need a date.” If I showed up at Brandon’s after he thought I’d gone to his dad’s office specifically to see him, he’d be convinced I was still interested. Which was the last thing I wanted.
He’d never believe I was with Sean and I wouldn’t ask Sean to pretend.
“How much of a date are we talking about here?” Manuel asked.
“The fake kind. But…” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Can you be convincing?”
His eyes twinkled. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
14
Early Saturday afternoon, I sent Alex a text. You want to go to a party tonight?