Lilly: A Kensington Family Novel

by Allie Everhart

  "Why now? Why would they wait three years?"

  "I don't know. Maybe because my uncle is a cop. I'm sure this person saw him at the scene, trying to cover it up. Maybe he thought the cops wouldn't believe him or maybe he thought he'd get in trouble for accusing a cop of a crime."

  "So the witness is a man? Do you know anything else about him?"

  "No. I don't even know if it's a man."

  "Did this person know it was you driving the car?"

  "My uncle doesn't know. The police haven't told him anything other than that they know he was involved. But he thinks the witness might've seen him stop and wipe down the front bumper. There was some paint on there that my uncle wiped off, along with anything else that might incriminate me."

  "So what happens now?"

  "There's going to be an investigation. They took my uncle in for questioning, which was humiliating for him given that he was questioned by one of his cop friends."

  "But he'll be okay, right? I mean, they can't prove this. Any evidence that was there is gone."

  "My uncle said they have evidence. He just doesn't know what yet. They wouldn't tell him." Reed leans against my desk, his arms crossed, his eyes on the floor. "They put him on probation until the investigation is over. He might lose his job. If he does, I don't know what he'll do. Lori doesn't work. He's their only source of income and they're barely making ends meet."

  "The evidence can't be that strong if it's three years old. I mean, what could it even be?"

  "It doesn't matter. Even if they can't prove my uncle did something wrong, his boss will go back and look at the police report and might see it differently than before. He'll wonder why my uncle was there that day. Why he was alone instead of with Lori and the kids. Why he was in a part of town he normally didn't go to. Once someone plants doubts in your mind, you start questioning everything. You stop trusting the person. And if his boss thinks he can't trust my uncle, he'll fire him."

  "You have no idea who this witness might be? You didn't see anyone that day?"

  "No. Nobody."

  "Did your uncle see anyone?"

  "Not right away. After he got there he said a car drove by, but he'd already cleaned the paint off by then."

  "Then who could it be?"

  "My uncle said the witness wanted to remain anonymous." Reed's eyes meet up with mine and he gets quiet. Too quiet.

  "Wait. You're not—" I pause, suddenly feeling nauseous, the pizza I ate sitting heavy in my stomach. "You're not accusing me of this, are you?"

  He doesn't answer, but his eyes haven't left mine.

  "Reed. Are you serious? You know I would never do that." My throat is burning as I fight back tears.

  He doesn't answer.

  "You're really accusing me of this? Are you kidding me?"

  His gaze drops to the floor. "You were the only person I told. I've never told that story to anyone else. My uncle said he hasn't either. He didn't even tell his wife. And my mom doesn't know. We never told her. So besides my uncle and me, you're the only one who knows."

  "I didn't do this. I swear." A few tears slip down my face.

  "I want to believe that, Lilly, but..."

  "But what? You don't? You don't believe me?"

  "It's been three years. If someone was there that day, why would they wait three years?"

  "You just said why! You said because your uncle is a cop and—"

  "I was just making excuses, okay?" He pushes away from my desk and stands in front of me. "Because I didn't want to believe that you'd do that to me. And to my family."

  "I wouldn't! I would never do that!"

  "I just told you that story. And now suddenly someone calls in an anonymous tip?"

  "Why would I do that?" I yell, then lower my voice because I don't want my whole floor hearing this. "Why would I want to get your uncle in trouble?"

  "I don't know. Maybe because you were mad at him for not helping me out with my mom. Or maybe you thought he deserved to be punished for covering up what I did."

  "No. You're wrong. None of that is true." I take a breath. "Why are you doing this? Why are you accusing me of something you know I would never do?"

  He steps around me and walks to the door. "I need to go."

  "Reed." The tears fall faster now. I can't stop them. "I'm telling you I didn't do this."

  He turns back and sees my tears. "Shit. What am I doing?" He comes back over and brings me into his arms. "Lilly, I'm sorry. I know you didn't do it. I'm just panicking right now and trying to find a way to explain this. I never should've accused you like that. God, I'm so sorry."

  I push him back and look in his eyes. "I would never try to hurt you. Or your uncle. I don't judge him for what he did. I know he was only trying to help you. I think he's a good person for doing so much for you and your mom. I would never do anything to hurt him or his family." I swallow hard. "I thought by now you knew what kind of person I am, but since you don't I—"

  "I do." He holds my face. "Lilly, listen to me. I was wrong to accuse you of that. Completely wrong. I know what type of person you are. You're kind and honest and have a huge heart, which is why I love you so—" He cringes, then whispers, "Shit."

  The room is silent as we both realize what he said.

  I put my hand over his, which is still on my face. "You love me?"

  He looks at me. "Yes."

  I smile a little. "Then why did you say 'shit'?"

  "Because I wasn't ready to tell you."

  "Why not?"

  "I didn't want to scare you off."

  "Why would that scare me off?"

  He glances down. "Because you'd say I'm crazy. You'd say it's too soon."

  "I guess you were wrong because I haven't said either of those things."

  His lips turn up as his eyes return to mine. "No. You haven't."

  "Maybe you should stop making assumptions about me."

  As I look in his eyes, I wonder if I should tell him how I feel. I've wanted to, but I've been afraid to because I'm not completely sure what my feelings for him mean.

  "You don't have to say it back," he says. "I don't expect you to, and I don't want you saying it unless you mean it. But just so you know, I did mean it. I love you, Lilly."

  "Reed, I..." I stop, afraid to say the words. But I really want to.

  "What is it, Lilly? What were you going to say?"

  "I was going to say that...that I've never been in love, so I don't know if I am or not. But I do know that I've never felt this way before. I can talk to you about anything and I'm not afraid to let you see all sides of me, even my crazy, girly, pink side or my insecure artist side. I love that you're always open and honest with me and that you're always looking out for me." I smile. "Like holding my hand when we cross the street or making sure my fridge is always stocked with fruit punch. I feel really happy when I'm with you, and when you're not around, I get happy just thinking about you. I don't know what any of that means, but I wanted you to know how I felt."

  He smiles a little. "I'm not an expert in this or anything, but it kind of sounds like you might be in love. But I wouldn't commit to it until you're sure."

  I smile back. "Okay. I'll give it more time."

  His phone rings and he jerks back, yanking it from his pocket. "Hello?" he answers. He ends the call. "Wrong number. Lilly, I need to go."

  "But we're not finished eating."

  "I'm not hungry. I'm a mess right now and I need time to think."

  "Do you want some company? We don't have to talk."

  "I think I just need to be alone right now. I'll call you later tonight."

  I nod. "Okay."

  He kisses me, then slowly pulls away. "I love you." He smiles. "It feels good to finally be able to say that."

  It feels good to hear it too. I didn't think I'd hear a guy say those words to me for years. And now it's happened, when I least expected it.

  After Reed leaves, I lie on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I'd planned on studying toni
ght but now I can't focus. I'm too worried about Reed. What if whoever reported this knows Reed was driving that night? Would the police arrest him all these years later? They couldn't prove he was drunk so they couldn't arrest him for DUI. But they could prove he was underage, driving without a license. And they could charge him with leaving the scene of an accident. But without video to prove it, there's no way they could convict him.

  What if there is a video? Is that the evidence the police have? If so, why would this person hold onto it for so long?

  "Lilly," Willow says as she knocks on my door. "Can I come in?"

  "Yeah, the door's open."

  She walks into my room, glancing around. "I thought Reed was in here."

  "He was, but he left."

  She grins. "He's not staying over tonight?"

  I feel my cheeks heating up. "How do you know he stays over?"

  "I've seen him leaving your room in the morning." She grins even more. "Does that mean you guys are—"

  "No. We're not doing that."

  She plops down beside me on the bed. "I wouldn't judge you if you did. In fact, I can't believe you've waited this long."

  "I'm not ready yet, and I don't want to rush into it."

  "I understand. I just thought since you guys are so in love you might've done it by now. But you have plenty of time."

  "What makes you think we're in love?" I sit up and cross my legs as I lean back against the headboard.

  "I can tell by the way you look at each other, especially Reed. He looks at you like you're the only girl in the world."

  "He does?"

  "You can never see it yourself. But other people can. My mom used to always say that Silas looked at me that way. And just like you, I never believed her. I couldn't see it." She gives me a sly grin. "It's good you found yourself an artist."

  "I know. It's great to be able to talk about art with someone. We can talk about art for hours."

  She swats at my leg. "That's not what I mean. I'm talking about sex. Artists are great in bed. When you finally have sex, it's going to be amazing."

  "You said hippies are great in bed. How do you know about artists?"

  "Silas is also an artist. He paints. Makes jewelry. He's made a few sculptures."

  "I didn't know that."

  "He just did it as a hobby. Except for the jewelry, which his mom sold as part of her business. Anyway, hippie-artist is even better than artist. Some artists can be uptight perfectionists, which doesn't make for a good lover. Hippies are more laid back. Reed seems laid back."

  He usually is, but not now. Not with what's going on.

  "Oh, here's why I came in here." Willow takes a bracelet off her wrist. "This is yours."

  It's a bracelet made with a black cord and a row of reddish-pink beads. The beads have a swirling pattern that remind me of stones you'd find on the beach. "I love it! Thanks!"

  "It's from Diane, Silas' mom. I told her you love pink so she sent that one. But she said she'd make you whatever you want so just let me know and I'll tell her."

  I slip the bracelet on. "I thought you weren't going to talk to Silas' mom."

  She shrugs. "My mom was right. Enough time has passed. There's no reason not to talk to her. I've always liked Diane. I've kind of missed talking to her."

  "Did she say anything about Silas?"

  "She told me about his volunteer work. It sounds like he's been all over the world, digging ditches, building houses, farming."

  "He must be in good shape doing all that physical labor. I bet he looks even better than he did in that photo you have of him."

  She rolls her eyes. "You sound like my mom. She said the same thing when I told her what Diane said."

  "Why don't you just call Silas and see how he's doing?"

  "I know how he's doing. His mom just told me. Besides, it's best if we don't talk."

  "Why?"

  "It would just bring up old feelings that..." She clears her throat. "It's just a bad idea. Anyway, I'm glad you like the bracelet." She motions to it. "Let me know if you want another one."

  "How much do I owe her? And how do I pay her?"

  "She wants a drawing. No rush. You can send it to her any time, or just give it to my mom next time she's here. She sees Diane all the time."

  "A drawing? What are you talking about?"

  "I told her you're an artist so she wants one of your drawings. She said it can be of anything, but she really likes flowers so maybe draw her a flower."

  "I don't understand. Instead of money, I'm paying her with a drawing?"

  "Is that a problem?"

  "Um, no. I guess not. But I'm not a professional artist."

  "You are now. You've been commissioned." She smiles. "Consider this your first sale."

  "This is odd. Are you sure she asked for this?"

  "A lot of hippies aren't into money. They prefer the barter system, exchanging goods and services. Like when my mom gets jewelry from Diane, she pays her in organic vegetables or some of her homemade granola."

  "I didn't know people still bartered."

  "So will you do it? Will you make her a drawing?"

  "Well, I have to. I have to pay her. Tell her I love the bracelet. It's perfect."

  She hops off my bed. "I need to get back to studying. I'll see you later."

  When she's gone, I take out a book I'm supposed to read for art seminar. I try to read it, but I can't concentrate, my mind still on Reed. I want to help him but I don't know what to do.

  If I asked Garret for advice, he'd tell me to stay out of it. He'd say it's Reed's problem, not mine. And yet I have this strange feeling I'm somehow part of it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Reed

  Why is this happening? The accident was so long ago. Why would someone wait this long to talk to the police? They wouldn't. Which means this has to be some kind of set-up. But who would do that? And why?

  My mind keeps going back to the fact that the only person who knew about this was Lilly. She said she didn't tell anyone and I want to believe her, but if she's telling the truth, then how did this happen?

  I need to stop thinking that way. I need to stop blaming Lilly. She'd never do this. I know she wouldn't. Seeing her face just now, I could tell she wasn't lying. There has to be some other explanation.

  I'm pacing my room when my phone rings. It's my uncle.

  "Do you have an update?" I ask.

  "Yes, and it's not good."

  "What is it?"

  He sighs. "The witness provided evidence that supports what they told the police."

  "What is it? A photo? Video?"

  "It's a recording. A recording of you confessing to what you did, and in it you mention my involvement."

  "That's not possible. I never confessed to anything."

  "It's your voice, Reed. It's you telling someone everything about that night."

  "Then it's a fake. I never told anyone. I swear."

  "You said you told Lilly."

  "Yes, but she didn't record me!"

  "Are you sure?"

  "Of course I'm sure. Why the hell would she record me?"

  "To get you in trouble. Get you arrested."

  "She would never do that. She didn't even know I was going to tell her that story so how would she know to record me?"

  "Maybe someone put her up to it. Maybe she's been trying to gain your trust this whole time so you'd confess."

  "That's not what happened. Lilly didn't do this, so stop accusing her."

  "Reed, there's no other way to explain this. If she's the only one you told, then she recorded you."

  "And how exactly would she do that? I never saw her turn anything on."

  "She must've had a recording app on her phone. Maybe she's been recording you for weeks, seeing if you'd tell her anything. She must have some connection with the man you hit. Has she said much about her family?"

  "The man I hit was not her family. He was driving a piece of shit car."

  "What's that
have to do with anything?"

  "Lilly is a Kensington. As in THE Kensington."

  "The billionaires?"

  "Yes."

  "What the hell is she doing dating you?"

  "Yeah, thanks a lot." I roll my eyes.

  "I'm just saying, shouldn't she be dating someone with more money? I thought people that wealthy had to date their own kind."

  "She's not freaking royalty. She's just rich. It doesn't matter. The point is she wouldn't do this. She has no reason to."

  "She does. You just don't know what that reason is. You obviously don't know this girl as well as you thought you did."

  I rub my head, which is now aching. There's no way this can be true. Why would Lilly do this? I don't understand.

  "Reed, you need to stay away from her. And stay away from her family."

  "This doesn't make sense," I say pacing the floor. "She wouldn't do this!"

  "Calm down and listen to me. Either tonight or tomorrow the police will be at your door asking you to come down to the station for questioning. Don't argue with them. Don't try to explain. Just do as they ask and go to the station. If you're cooperative, you won't look guilty."

  "What do I do when they ask me about the accident?"

  "Pretend you know nothing about it. Act confused, like you have no idea what they're talking about. If they present you with the evidence, tell them someone must be trying to frame you. Then wait for them to release you."

  "What if they don't? What if they arrest me?"

  "They can't. This evidence can't be used against you. It's against the law in California to record someone without their consent."

  "Then why are the police using it against us?"

  "They're using it to get us to confess. They know they'll get nothing out of me since I know the laws and I know how the system works. They're counting on you to screw up and say something you shouldn't, which is why I'm telling you how to act and what to say. As long as you do as I said, you'll be fine."

  "What about you? Are they going to kick you off the force?"

  "I'll probably quit before they do. Even if they can't use the evidence against me, it's stirred up enough suspicion that I won't be able to stay there. They won't trust me. They'll be constantly watching me."