by Tara Thomas
His forehead wrinkled. “Why didn’t you?”
“After what everyone thought Dad did? And then when Mom got sick and she talked to Kipling? I never heard from you, I figured you didn’t want anything to do with me. It never occurred to me that Kipling never mentioned it.”
“I owe Kipling a kick in the ass for not telling me.”
She sighed and they were silent for a few minutes. It wasn’t an awkward silence, rather it was peaceful. Until Keaton cleared his throat.
“Tilly?”
She didn’t like the way he said her name, but she looked up anyway. “Yes?”
He must have seen the worry in her expression because he smiled and kissed her forehead. “Don’t look like that, it’s nothing bad.”
“Tell me.”
“I don’t like the thought of you riding a bus to and from the club when there’s a killer on the loose.”
If he thought she was going to argue with him, he was mistaken. She didn’t like the idea, either. Unfortunately, there was no other option. She had two months until graduation and there was no way she could afford a car. “I don’t have a choice.”
“What if I drove you?”
“I can’t ask you to do that.” But the fact that he offered was amazing.
“I don’t think you did ask me,” he said. “I believe I volunteered.”
“It’s too much.” She shook her head, but when she looked in his eyes, she could tell he wasn’t going to back down.
“Nothing is too much to keep you safe.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “I know you have to work. I know how important it is for you to get your degree, and I want that for you. Let me take care of your transportation these last few months. It would make me feel so much better. Plus, I get to see you a lot more.”
Her eyes filled with tears for what felt like the two hundredth time that day, but this time they weren’t in sadness. She lifted her head and kissed him gently. “I would like that very much. Thank you.”
* * *
Tilly slowly became aware of the bed shifting—Keaton—and she smiled before opening her eyes.
“Hey,” Keaton said, holding something that looked a lot like a note in his hand. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
It was a note. She swallowed her disappointment. “Were you leaving?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that without telling you. I was going to run out and pick up a few things for breakfast.”
She could have smacked herself for thinking he’d leave without saying good-bye. He just wanted more to eat than the two eggs and stale cereal she had on hand. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food. “Let me get dressed and I’ll go with you.”
“I’d like that.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll go wait in the living room.”
She didn’t spend too much time getting ready. They were just going out to pick up a few things and she’d take a shower when she got back. As she was trying to tame her hair, it hit her that Raven’s interview was supposed to be today and a fresh wave of grief washed over her.
Keaton smiled when she made it to the living room a few minutes later and she knew her return smile wasn’t as bright as his.
He reached for her hand and she let his warmth and strength comfort her. She felt better as he opened the door and she knew with time, she’d one day feel normal again. A flash of red caught her eye and she looked down. One of the twin’s lifeless body blocked her way.
Like Raven, her throat had been cut and Tilly’s free hand flew of its own accord to her own neck. This wasn’t a coincidence. This was a warning.
* * *
“This is twice in as many days that you’ve called in to report a body,” Officer Adams said, as if somehow both Raven and Mindy were dead because of them.
Tilly started to say something, but Keaton stopped her by answering first. “We’re not saying anything without a lawyer present.”
Officer Adams cocked one eyebrow. “Noted.”
“Doesn’t that make us look guilty?” Tilly asked Keaton.
“No, it makes us look smart.”
Tilly sighed and stood up from her couch. She wanted to go outside, but the crime scene team she recognized from the day before was blocking her doorway, processing Mindy’s body. She thought she would have felt something over the death of another coworker, but all she felt was numb.
From outside a commotion began to stir. Keaton stood up and put his arm around her.
“Let me in,” a familiar voice said from outside. Tilly looked at Keaton in question.
He nodded. “Kipling.”
Sure enough, a few minutes longer and Kipling stood in her apartment, Officer Adams and her partner nearby.
“Tilly?” Kipling asked.
“Hi, Kipling,” she answered. “Long time no see.”
“Mind if I come in and sit down?” he asked, and at the shake of her head, he added, “I guess you two should come, too,” over his shoulder to the cops. To Keaton, he shot a watch yourself look, which translated to: Don’t say anything until the lawyer arrives.
When they’d all sat back down, Alyssa asked, “Who are you?”
Kipling shot her a smile. “Kipling Benedict.”
“I’m Alyssa Adams and this is Officer Drake. We’re looking into the death of Mindy Jackson,” Alyssa said. “I’m glad you’re here. Now, Keaton, we’ve heard there was an altercation between you, Tilly, and Mindy a few nights ago at the club.”
Keaton’s mouth dropped open. He hastily closed it and said, “I, uh, don’t know if altercation is the right word.”
“Keaton,” Kipling said in the low, but dangerous voice he had. “Shut your fucking mouth and keep it closed until Derrick gets here.”
“Or he could answer a few questions and we’ll get out of your hair,” Alyssa said.
“No one says anything, damn it.”
They all turned to see who had spoken.
“Derrick, our attorney,” Keaton explained as the man in question entered Tilly’s apartment. He was short and overweight and though it was early in the day, already sweating.
“Officers,” he said. “I’m here representing the Benedict family and we’re not answering anything.”
Derrick made it into the living room and stood with his arms crossed. His gaze landed on Tilly. “Who are you?”
“Tilly Brock. I live here.”
Derrick looked from her to Keaton and back again. He snapped his head back to the two officers standing. “She’s my client, too.”
Alyssa’s lips tightened into a thin line. She didn’t like that at all and if Keaton wasn’t mistaken, it appeared Kipling was hiding a smile.
The male officer, who had been silent since the moment Keaton and Tilly arrived, stood. “Come on,” he said to Alyssa. “We’re not going to get anything here.”
Alyssa wasn’t happy to be leaving, that much was clear. “I suggest you don’t leave town,” she told Keaton and then looked at Tilly. “You, either.” To Kipling, she simply said, “I’ll be in touch.”
Kipling saluted her and appeared to be watching her ass as she left.
Everyone held his or her breath until the two officers left. Derrick then looked at Keaton. “Want to tell me what’s been going on?”
Keaton took a deep breath and told him everything he knew, everything he remembered, and everything that happened after they left the club, up until this morning. Derrick made a couple of notes in his phone and then turned to Tilly for her story. When they both finished, he put his phone aside and clasped his hands. “We’ll get statements from everyone and that should be it.”
He stayed at the apartment for a little while longer, mostly making small talk. Keaton whispered to her that the small man was more intelligent than he appeared. He said he was always looking, always taking in the details.
It wasn’t until the attorney left that there was a noticeable change in Kipling’s demeanor. Keaton’s oldest brother took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. He closed his eyes and sighed,
but when he opened them, he was all smiles.
Tilly wanted to smile back, but she found she couldn’t. How could she smile when Raven and Mindy never would smile again?
Keaton seemed to pick up on her mood, because he was frowning, too. “You okay, Tilly?”
She shook her head. “It’s just sinking in that Mindy’s gone. I mean, I didn’t like her, but I didn’t want her dead.” She dropped her head into her hand. “Who could do this?”
Keaton put his arm around her. “I don’t know, but I’ll do anything I can to help, because it makes me sick to my stomach, too. How could someone I talked with less than forty-eight hours ago be dead? Even more upsetting is the thought that maybe there was something that happened, something I saw or heard, that might be a clue.”
“Right?” she agreed. “What if there was something and I’m not able to remember it? Even more sickening is the thought that it happened outside my door.” She tightened her hands into fists. “I told her to come by and get that book I’d planned to leave at the club the morning we found Raven dead. And I can’t help thinking, was it Mindy or me the killer was after?”
Keaton’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Why would you be a target?”
“I don’t know, but I have to think about it, don’t I?”
He didn’t look too happy with her statement and she expected him to argue with her. Which is why his next question confused her.
“Do you know if any homeless people stay near the club on a regular basis?”
Tears filled her eyes. “There used to be one. His name was Charlie. Janie, a bartender who used to work there, and I would take him food when we saw him.”
“Was?” Keaton asked, picking up on her use of past tense.
“He was murdered in the homeless shelter Janie took him to.” Her shoulders slumped. “He was such a sweet old man.”
He took her hand and she knew he was trying to offer her comfort, but she also knew he couldn’t take the pain away. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile. “Thank you. But no, since Charlie, I haven’t seen very many homeless around and none on a regular basis.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Why do you ask?”
“There was a pile of clothes and some other items near the club last night, but I didn’t see anyone near them.”
“That’s odd,” she said. “I wonder what it could mean?”
Kipling’s phone rang and he cursed as he looked at the display. “Hello, Mr. Germain,” he said, answering while at the same time keeping his gaze locked on Keaton. “Yes, I understand. No, there’s nothing to worry about. Yes, he has an alibi. Of course. No offense taken. I’d have done the same. Yes, sir. We’re looking forward to her coming back home and staying here.”
“The hell we are,” Keaton mumbled under his breath.
Tilly sucked in a breath and Keaton turned his attention back to her.
“Are you okay?”
* * *
Tilly hadn’t meant to be so loud, but hearing Kipling talk to Mr. Germain brought home the fact that there were relationships at play she didn’t know about.
“I was wondering, you and Elise…?” She didn’t ask the question, hoping that he would see what she wanted to know. Though she’d like to think that Keaton wouldn’t be kissing her if he was engaged, the truth was, they had been separated for years and his circumstances and character may have changed.
He shook his head. “There’s nothing between me and Elise. She would like for there to be. Her parents would like for there to be. But it’s not going to happen. Elise is a beautiful woman and I’m sure she’ll make some guy a wonderful wife, but it won’t be me.”
“Did your parents want you two together?” she asked.
“It was mostly the Germains. They thought our business portfolios would match up. Mom and Dad would have never wanted me to marry someone for business gain.” He grimaced. “That memo hasn’t made it to the Germain house, though. Her parents have selected me in much the same way you would a horse to breed. Good bloodlines. Sturdy stock. Not too bad to look at. Loaded. Yup, I’ll do for a husband.”
The whole thing sounded clinical and cold. “Kinda makes me glad my parents didn’t have much money.” After, she could have added, but didn’t.
“The bad part is, her parents still don’t see the fruitlessness of it.” He hesitated a second before adding, “She’s actually spending the summer with us at Benedict House.”
“Elise? Here? I thought she went to Yale or Harvard or something.”
“Harvard.”
“When’s she arriving?”
He shot Kipling a look. “Monday.”
“Day after tomorrow? This Monday?”
“Unfortunately.”
“How long is she staying?” she asked, even though she had a bad feeling she knew.
“The whole damn summer. She’ll be interning at a law office.”
She tilted her head. “Something about the way you said that makes me think you don’t believe it.”
“I can’t picture Elise as an attorney. She’s been groomed from the crib to be a trophy wife.”
It sounded awful coming from Keaton’s lips, but Tilly knew he was telling the truth. Years ago, whenever she’d spend the night at the Germains’ house, her mother was always on Elise to do this and act that way and to stop doing that, because no lady would act that way. To Tilly, it sounded like a bunch of worthless rules her friend had to follow.
She’d told Elise that once, but her friend had denied it and said that her mother was just making sure she grew up to be a proper Southern lady. Tilly had snorted and said that sounded boring as hell. She remembered Elise hadn’t taken that very well.
Looking back, they probably wouldn’t have been friends if it weren’t for their fathers both working for the Benedicts, but they had. Tilly and Elise met in kindergarten and were inseparable until that fateful day when they weren’t anymore.
“She probably went to Harvard for her MRS degree,” Tilly said.
“Without question,” Keaton agreed.
There was a lull in the conversation and with it Tilly realized how quiet it had grown outside. She stood up to walk to the front window, right as someone knocked on the front door.
She opened it to find Officer Adams. “Can I help you, Officer?”
Alyssa shook her head. “No, Ms. Brock. I just wanted to let you know we were finished and will be leaving. I’ll let you know if I have further questions for you.”
Tilly nodded. “Thank you.”
Once Alyssa left and Tilly closed the door, Kipling stood. “I’ll get out of your hair, too. Keaton, are you staying here or coming home?”
Keaton turned to her. “Why don’t you come stay at Benedict House?”
As much as she would like to, she didn’t want to be around Elise. Though they had been close at one point, they hadn’t talked in years. From what she understood from Keaton, Elise was not the same person she’d been then and he’d hinted that she’d become quite the snob. Add on top of that the fact that she wanted Keaton, and Tilly just wasn’t ready to see her yet.
“I’ll stay here,” she said. “I need to study and I’ll probably take a nap.”
“I’ll stay, too,” Keaton said.
“No, I’m sure you have other things to do. You haven’t been home in days.”
He looked like he was going to argue, but she stopped him by walking to him and slipping her arms around him. She was vaguely aware of Kipling leaving. “This way you can take me to dinner tonight and I won’t feel bad about monopolizing your time.”
“You call me if you need anything,” Keaton whispered against her cheek. “Anything at all.”
“Okay,” she said, and turned her head so their lips met.
He groaned low in his throat and took her lips in a kiss that started out gentle, but soon grew in intensity. She clutched the fabric of his shirt and wondered if telling him not to stay was the stupidest thing she’d ever done.
* * *
Jade looked up as the Gentleman walked into his room. She frowned. It wasn’t often he sought her out. She put the knife down she’d been sharpening.
“Something wrong, Sir?”
He didn’t smile, he rarely did, and nothing about his expression set her mind at ease.
“No,” he finally said and she could breathe easier. “Just wanted to let you know I appreciate your work at the club. You did well not being seen.”
His praise was rarer than his smile and a flicker of warmth started to fill the dark and empty places inside her.
“You aren’t totally worthless after all,” he said and the warmth died and she was once more cold to her very soul.
“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered, not able to look at him. She had the feeling he wanted to say more, but his phone rang.
“Tom,” he said. “Phase two is a go. Bea Jacobs has been busy looking into things she has no business looking at. You know what to do.”
He ended the call and put the phone in his pocket, his gaze falling on her knives. He nodded toward them. “Bring them and come with me. You need more practice.”
Her stomach flipped in revolt, but she did as she was told.
* * *
Tilly unplugged the landline after Keaton left. She wasn’t even sure why she still had one; no one ever called it. That was, until today, when it stated to ring nonstop as soon as everyone had left her apartment. She turned off her cell, too. She was going off grid. If someone needed her, too damn bad.
Her current plan was to stay sequestered inside her apartment for at least the next eight hours. Maybe by then the reporters would be tired and would leave her alone.
She plopped into her couch and hugged a pillow to her chest. When had everything gone so crazy? In just a few days, so much had changed. Starting with Keaton.
Oh yes, she thought. She could definitely start and end with Keaton. It had to have been fate that brought them together again. She still couldn’t believe both of his parents died. That’s what she got for refusing to watch or read anything mentioning the Benedict family. It had probably been selfish, but after what his father had accused her father of doing, she saw it as self-preservation.