He stretches across the table, taking my hand. “Yes. Now that I know what it feels like to be inside you, I’m on a permanent boner.”
I fling my napkin at him. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“I’m only teasing, babe, although that’s no word of a lie. But, yeah, I’ve got all the feels too.”
I smile at his statement. “I won’t ever want to leave here.”
He shrugs. “Then we won’t.”
I roll my eyes. “We can only avoid the outside world for so long.” And Adam is waiting on an answer from me, and it’s not fair to keep him hanging. I still don’t know what to do, and my head is a horribly confused place in that regard.
“Hey.” Ky moves over beside me. “Where’d you go?”
“I haven’t had a chance to tell you this yet, but I met my bio dad. I met Adam.”
His eyes pop wide. “You did? How was it?”
I proceed to fill him in on how it went down, and he listens attentively. “I’m glad your meet and greet with pops went better than mine,” he half-jokes when I’ve finished talking. I send him a sympathetic look. “If you want to meet him this weekend, we can head back. I was only joking before. I know we can’t hide away forever. I know I have to confront my parents at some point.”
I rub a hand behind my neck. “I don’t know what I want. He seems nice, and he’s trying to make the best of this, like me. And I have questions. Lots of them. But I’m not sure I’m ready to hear about his other kids, about my siblings. What if they want to meet me?” A fluttery sensation takes up residence in my chest.
“He said you could set the pace, right? So tell him you need to go slow. Get to know him first before you even start thinking about that. Unless you don’t want to get to know him at all?” Ky tilts my chin up.
I fidget with the belt on my dressing gown as emotions churn in my mind. “Is it disrespectful to my dad, my real dad, to want to get to know Adam? Because guilt is a huge part of what I’m feeling.”
“Your mom said in her letter that your dad had wanted to tell your bio dad when they first found out. If that’s the kind of man he was, then, I think he’d want you to do whatever you feel comfortable doing. And your mom said this was your decision.”
I tip my head up to the ceiling, sighing. “What would you have done? If your dad had been different. Had been decent?”
He blows air out of his mouth. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m still processing.”
I nod in agreement. Ky called it. I’m still trying to figure all this out, and I think I need more time to consider it. I’ll text Adam later and ask him if we can meet the following weekend instead. At least I’ll have had more time to structure my thoughts by then. I peck Ky on the lips. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He gives me a funny smile as someone raps loudly on the suite door.
Ky frowns, getting up to check it out before I can answer him. I pull my knees up to my chest and start making tentative plans in my head for today.
“What the hell?” Ky yells, and I hop up, racing to the other room.
My mouth hangs open as I reach the front door. Two policemen wearing blue shirts and navy trousers are standing in front of Ky with fierce expressions. The short, stouter man is holding Ky’s hand, inspecting his injured knuckle. He nods at the second man, as he simultaneously twists Ky’s hands behind his back.
“Kyler James Kennedy. You are under arrest for the murder of Douglas Brian Grant.”
Chapter Eleven
Kyler
“He’s dead?” My eyes dart between the two police officers but neither of them is giving anything away. I glance over my shoulder at Faye. Her eyes are wide and panicked. “Call Dad.” The officer who cuffed me starts nudging me out the door.
“At least let him get dressed,” Faye demands, hurriedly composing herself. “You are not bringing him out there like that.” She glares at the cops, and they exchange looks.
“Fine,” the taller, older man says. “But I’ll be in the room with you.”
Faye harrumphs. “What, you think he’s going to jump off the roof like he’s Spiderman or something?”
“Watch your tone, young lady, or I’ll detain you for obstructing an arrest.”
“Fine.” She shrugs. “See if I care.”
“Faye.” I shake my head. There’s no way I want her tied up in this mess. “Just call Dad and tell him to get Dan on the case.”
I get dressed with the cop facing the door, and he insists on re-cuffing me before we leave the room. I hope there’s no press around. Mom will have a conniption if this gets out. Not that I care what she thinks anymore. It’d serve her right. Let her be blindsided and see what that feels like.
Faye flings her arms around me before I’m removed from the suite. “I’ve spoken to James and he’s on it. I’ll follow you to the station. Don’t say a word until your attorney arrives.”
I nod. “The keys to my truck are in the pocket of my other jeans,” I tell her before I’m steered out of the room.
I do the walk of shame across the crowded hotel lobby, staring straight ahead and not making eye contact with anyone. A couple of flashes go off in my face out on the street, and any hope of keeping this on the down low is fading. Once they figure out who I am and what I’ve been arrested for, it’ll be all over the net.
The cruiser pulls away from the sidewalk, and I stare out the window as the magnitude of what’s happening starts to hit home.
The sperm donor is dead?
And they think I did it?
Which must mean I was one of the last people to see him alive. Panic presses down on my chest, but I plaster a blank expression on my face. I’m not showing shit, saying shit, until I speak to an attorney.
The journey back to Bayfield drags by, and it does nothing to stem my nerves. I go over and over Monday night in my head, wondering if I hit Doug harder than I thought. He was still on his ass when I left, but he was coherent enough to scream obscenities at me while I walked away. I can’t believe that one punch was enough to kill a man, but I’m terrified it did.
I’m brought into the station and processed quickly. Before I know it, I’m in a lineup, facing a glass window, along with four other guys. I show no reaction as I’m called forward, stepping out and then falling back as instructed. When it’s over, I’m escorted into an interview room and left there with only my thoughts for company.
The longer they leave me in isolation, the more freaked out I’m becoming. Thoughts of what Kal recently went through are at the forefront of my mind. It didn’t take much to frame him for a crime he didn’t commit. Sweat coasts down my spine, and my foot taps nervously off the floor.
The door slams open, and I jerk a little in my chair. Two plainclothes detectives enter the room and sit down across from me. The dude with the buzz cut slaps a paper folder down on the desk and pins me with a grim look. The other guy slouches in his chair, yawning and feigning disinterest.
They turn on the camera and read me my rights. “Where were you Monday night between the hours of eight p.m. and two a.m.?” Buzzcut asks.
“I want an attorney.”
“I understand someone is on their way.” He puts his elbows on the table, straining toward me. “But this doesn’t look good for you, kid, and the sooner you start talking, the sooner we can eliminate you from our investigation.”
Does he think I was born yesterday? “I’m not saying a word until my attorney gets here.”
The two detectives share a look while I fold my arms across my chest and lean back in my chair.
They stand up, chairs screeching in the process. “Fine. Your funeral.”
I release the breath I’d been holding the second they exit the room. I crick my head from side to side, attempting to loosen up. Every muscle in my body is corded into knots.
About a half hour
passes before a distinguished-looking guy steps into the room. He sits down beside me, extracting some papers from a well-worn brown leather briefcase. “My name is Fitzgerald Manning, and I’m an attorney with Manning, Tanner, and Hawthorne. My services have been retained by Dan Evans, acting on behalf of your parents. I’ll be representing you in this matter.” He opens a pad and removes a slim, silver Montblanc pen from his jacket pocket. Setting both items down on the table, he clasps his hands in his lap and swivels in his chair, facing me. “I can’t do my job unless you are completely honest with me.”
I’m not an idiot. I know it must look bad or they wouldn’t have arrested me. And I’m not naïve enough to believe this will go away because I actually am innocent. Look what happened to my brother. “I didn’t kill him,” I admit truthfully.
He scrutinizes my eyes, and my focus doesn’t waver. “Okay.”
“I didn’t. My girlfriend and my brother will confirm I was drunk and passed out in my hotel room when they arrived.”
“I have already spoken with Ms. Donovan, and she has given a statement to that effect. The police are interviewing the bartender in Randy’s Tavern as we speak, but that only accounts for the latter part of the night. It doesn’t exonerate you for the hours leading up to your arrival in the bar.”
“Is Faye okay?”
“She is fine. She’s waiting outside for your parents to arrive. My understanding is they are traveling by private plane and they are expected shortly.” He takes the tip off the pen, holding it poised over the pad. “We need to go over this before the detectives return, so let’s take this step by step. Where were you Monday night?”
I fill him in on everything from the time I stepped foot in the town, leaving nothing of relevance out. I don’t mention the part of the conversation surrounding past events at Uxbridge because it has no bearing on this, and I don’t want any whiff of that getting back to my parents until I’m ready to tell them about it.
“Do you own a gun, Mr. Kennedy?” He scrutinizes me over the edge of his black-rimmed spectacles.
I shake my head. “No.” My eyes narrow as I come to the obvious conclusion. “He was shot? That’s why they took swabs of my hands earlier?” I wait with bated breath for his reply.
He nods, and a layer of stress releases knowing I definitely didn’t kill him. “Yes. The good news for you is that no gunshot residue was found on your hands, no gun was uncovered at the crime scene, and forensics didn’t discover any incriminating evidence in either of the hotel rooms you occupied or in your truck.”
“But?” I know there’s one coming.
“A witness identified you from the lineup, and she has confirmed that she left you with Mr. Grant in his house on the night of his murder. In her statement, she has referred to you as, and I quote, ‘an asshole with a major chip on his shoulder.’”
“I know who she is. She was waitressing at a diner in town, and she was fucking Doug Grant when I arrived at his house. She doesn’t know me, and it’s not like I’m denying I was there that night.”
Manning takes off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It is most likely you were the last person to see him alive.”
I stiffen. “No, I wasn’t. The killer was.” I grind down on my teeth.
“Let me rephrase. You were the last person seen with the victim and that’s not looking so good for you, even if all they have is circumstantial evidence right now.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “I told you he was alive when I left. I punched him once, knocked him on his ass, but he was most definitely alive. I didn’t do this. Are the cops even looking for anyone else or have they already deemed I’m guilty?”
“It’s an open investigation, Mr. Kennedy, and the police will pursue all leads. However, at this time, you look good for this. Ms. McKenna, the waitress, has already told them you were his son, and they are keen to pursue that line of questioning. Look at it from their perspective—you have motive, a witness has placed you at the scene, you agree you fought with the victim, and most likely there is DNA evidence that will corroborate same.”
“I know how it looks,” I roar, losing the battle with my self-control, “but I’m telling you, I didn’t do this. Someone else killed him. He’s well known, and given what I saw of him, I’d say he’s made his fair share of enemies over the years. God only knows how many kids he’s fathered with various women, so I can’t be the only one who’d have motive to kill him. And do they even know he was murdered? What if he shot himself?”
“They can tell from the bullet trajectory that it wasn’t a suicide, but we won’t have conclusive results until the autopsy report is issued.” He looks at his watch. “The detectives will be here any minute now. Do not blow up like that in their presence. Tell them what you’ve told me, and only answer questions where I nod my agreement. I’ll intervene if they ask you something I don’t want you to answer.”
The detectives reenter the room and waste no time getting stuck in. The interrogation goes on for hours, and they keep asking me the same questions over and over, trying to trip me up. Eventually, they call a halt to the interview, rising along with my attorney. “Unless you are charging my client, I expect he is free to go?”
“That will be all for now. Mr. Kennedy is free to leave, but we ask that he remains in the vicinity for the time being. We will need to question him again in due course.”
Manning nods his agreement, keeping a hand on my shoulder to hold me in place while the detectives exit the room. “They don’t have enough to charge you, and let’s hope it stays that way. I expect your parents are here by now, but, I must warn you, news of your arrest is already in the public domain, and a few reporters had gathered outside when I first arrived. I’d imagine their numbers have swollen by now. Prepare yourself.”
I get up, arching my stiff back. “I’m well accustomed to dealing with the media. It’s part and parcel of growing up in the family I did.”
He ushers me from the room and out into the front reception area. Faye races toward me the second she sees me, enfolding me in a mammoth hug, almost squeezing the life out of me. Mom and Dad are standing behind her with worried expressions on their faces. I’m surprised to see Kal, although I guess he may have been required to give a statement, too. Manning goes to talk to them. I hold Faye close, smoothing a hand over her hair and allowing her body heat to soothe me.
“Stupid question,” she says, peering up at me. “But are you okay?”
Air escapes my lungs in a mad rush. “I will be as soon as we get out of here. Are there many reporters out front?”
Her mouth narrows in distaste as she nods. “I’m sorry, Ky. It’s all over the news already.”
I peck her on the lips. “I figured as much when people started taking photos of me as they led me out of the hotel.”
“If they’re letting you go that must be a good thing, right? They know you didn’t do this?”
“It’s not that straightforward. The girl who was with him at the house picked me out of a lineup, and they’re going to find my DNA on him, and my injured hands confirm I fought with him, but it was a gunshot wound that killed him and they haven’t found the gun so that stands in my favor.”
Faye scratches the side of her head. “I saw a girl leave here a while back with blonde hair, pretty, if a bit rough around the edges. Kal and I saw her the night we arrived. She was outside the bar arguing with some guy. Was that the girl your dad was with?”
“Sounds like it.”
“Well, maybe she killed him? Lovers tiff gone wrong? She was pretty smashed when we saw her, and she was crying. She could’ve gone back there and fought with him?” Her eyes fill with hope.
“It’s a possibility.” I take her hand. “Come tell the attorney what you just told me.” I walk her over to where my parents are speaking with Manning. I avoid looking at either Mom or Dad as Faye tells the attorney what she s
aw. Kal confirms he saw the waitress too. Manning agrees to update the police, advising both Faye and Kal that they may be called back to revise their statements.
Dad steps in front of me when the attorney leaves to update the detectives. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll fix this.” Looking at my feet, I nod. I can’t face him, even though this isn’t his fault. For once, I’m on his side, and it’s Mom I’m furious with. “Let’s get out of here,” he adds. “We have reserved rooms in a hotel in the next town over. We didn’t think it was a good idea to return to the scene of the crime.”
I have a quiet word with Kal before we leave. I’m not sure I’ll get the alone time to make the call and rearrange our plans, so he’ll have to do it on my behalf. He agrees without argument, and I send her number to his cell.
Faye grips my hand tight as we vacate the station. Swarms of reporters crowd the pavement outside and Dad has to wrestle his way through the masses to get us to the rental. Mercifully, he had the forethought to organize a vehicle with blacked-out windows, and I only start breathing again once we are safely tucked away inside.
No one speaks the entire ride to the hotel, but that suits me just fine. Faye never lets go of my hand, and I’m so grateful for her support. Her unquestioning loyalty. Mom checks us in, and I’m beyond pissed when I discover she’s booked separate rooms for Faye and me. Before I can raise any objection, Faye takes matters into her own hands. “I’m staying with Ky, so you can return this key and get your money back.”
“Honey,” Mom starts to say, but Faye stalls her with one of her special, deadly looks.
“I’m not leaving him by himself. Period.” She stubbornly holds the key out to Mom.
My eyes meet Dad’s for the first time, and a flare of pride glimmers in his gaze. Mom pouts, frowning. “For God’s sake, Alexandra,” Dad says, not attempting to hide the disdain in his tone. “Let them be. They need each other.”
Keeping Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 3) Page 9