by Cassie James
Copyright © 2019 by Cassie James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For you, dear readers.
Thank you for following me back into the world of Patience.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
“What did you do?”
Now, hours later, those words haunt me as two men sit across the table, both staring at me expectantly. One of them has been doing most of the talking. “Miss Lexington, why would you have asked a question like that unless you believed there to be foul play?” He seems to think if he asks me enough times that I’ll come up with an answer he deems acceptable.
“I don’t know,” I answer instead. Just like every other time.
Kathryn Lassiter is dead, and these guys are badgering me instead of finding out what actually happened. I got there too late to be of any real help, and yet this man keeps asking me the same question over and over. Why did I ask that? What did you do? Probably because the one lesson I’ve learned here is to not trust anyone. But how do they expect me to put that feeling into words? That assumption that one of Patience’s little darlings must be doing something nefarious at all times, or otherwise I wouldn’t recognize this place at all.
The other man, the one that’s been mostly silent, sighs and crosses his arms as he leans back in his chair. “We can do this all night, if that’s what it takes.”
“I’d think again, gentleman.” All three of us turn as someone new steps through the door. The man joining us looks familiar, though I can’t quite put my finger on why. “My client has been more than forthcoming for the several hours that you’ve been interrogating her. But she’s not a suspect, and her aunt would like to take her home now.” He looks at the two detectives with a clear challenge in his eyes until they both grumble, standing and gathering their things from the metal table separating us.
I’ve never had my own lawyer before. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Pearl hired one, though I am surprised it took this long. Couldn’t she have done this a couple hours ago and saved me a whole hell of a lot of repeating myself?
As the detectives make their exit, the lawyer slides into one of their empty chairs. He reaches across the table to offer me his hand. It seems strange to make such a formal introduction in a place like this, but I’ve never been in a police interrogation room before, so what do I know?
“Grant Harrington,” the man introduces himself, and finally I understand why he looked familiar. I’ve never seen the man in person, but I have seen him in their family photos. It’s strange meeting him for the first time under these circumstances. “You can call me Grant. Sorry it took me so long to get here. I was working another case in the city when Pearl called me.”
Oops, maybe I should have given Auntie Pearl the benefit of the doubt after all. “You’re Sadie and Smith’s dad,” I say, stating the obvious. It’s late and I’m exhausted, which is my excuse for saying something so stupid and obvious.
Grant nods, completely unfazed. “That’s right. Two of my top partners are meeting with each of them right now.” He says it like he’s reassuring me, but it actually puts me more on edge. It all seems more serious than I thought if the Harringtons are calling in a whole team of lawyers in the middle of the night.
“What about everyone else?” I ask, because of course I do. Even at this moment, when they’ve roped me into the worst mess of my life, I’m catching myself worrying about all of them. Even Jax, the biggest asshole I know. Not that I need to be worried about Jax. His dad made it to the house even before the police did.
“The governor’s son was out early.” Of course he was. “I think they were still questioning Dupont when I got here, but I’d imagine he’ll be on the way out soon, too. His lawyer got here about the same time my team did.” He doesn’t seem concerned about any of it. I don’t know how much Grant actually knows, but it’s reassuring to see him so calm, especially since his own kids are involved.
“Now, I need to go over everything with you. Anything you told the detectives.” He looks pointedly at me. “And anything you didn’t.” He pulls a legal pad and a pen from his briefcase and makes himself comfortable. So much for that whole Pearl wanting to take me home thing.
“I told them everything I could.” I don’t want him to think I withheld anything from police. I get that that’s probably a thing people do around here to protect themselves, but I’m not one of them. I might come from a place where snitches get stitches, but this is a dead girl we’re talking about. Sadie’s sort-of-secret-girlfriend. Cece’s friend. Someone’s daughter. They deserve to know what happened to her. Assuming Sadie wasn’t the one that did it. That thought draws me up short.
“I’m not accusing you of withholding anything on purpose, just that sometimes detectives don’t ask the right questions. Like, about Sadie and Kathryn’s relationship.”
“Oh.” Is he asking me to out his daughter? Does he actually know or just suspect and looking for me to confirm? This feels like a big moral question mark, one that I’m not prepared to face.
He must see my hesitation. “Don’t worry, Miss Lexington. A good lawyer never asks a question he doesn’t already know the answer to. I know that Sadie and Kathryn were more than just friends. Despite what my wife and kids may think, I do have a pretty good handle on what goes on under my own roof.”
His words make me fidget, wondering just how much he really knows. “I kissed your son,” I blurt out nervously. It’s not actually relevant to what’s going on, and as soon as I blurt it out I wish I could call the words back.
Grant sets his pen down and studies me. “My son is quite taken with you.” That’s all he says. And based on the lack of surprise in his reaction, I’m guessing he already had at least some idea that something was going on. Which, is fair, I guess. It’s not like I was exactly discreet the first time I kissed Smith. If the whole school knows it’s happened, I’m not sure why it would be a surprise to find Grant Harrington knows, too.
“All I’ll say about it,” Grant continues, “is that I’m glad to see the next generation choosing to look past old family feuds. I’d say it’s about time.” I nod, fully willing to agree to that. I guess I don’t need to mention to him that I still don’t fully understand the feud between our families in the first place. Whatever happened between Hollis and the Harringtons, I don’t want it to cloud my judgement. It has nothing to do with me or Smith.
“Thank you?” I say uncertainly, mostly because I have no idea what proper etiquette is for responding to your sort-of-friend’s dad when he gives—what seems like—his approval of your still very casual relationship with his son.
God, when did my life get so complicated? Oh right, probably sometime around Child Protective Services showing up to let me know I’d spent sixteen years living as the daughter of my kidnappers. That sort of thi
ng does have a way of complicating things.
“Alright, let’s get down to business, now. Shall we?” Grant picks his pen back up and taps it against the table, the metal pinging off each other in a surprisingly pretty rhythm. “Tell me what happened tonight.”
I tell him everything—well, nearly everything. I don’t mention the parts where his son gave me back a book he’d stolen or that my childhood friend might have just broken my heart in a gazillion pieces. But I tell him the important details, like who was at the party and why I went searching for my friends up on that roof. It’s all the same details I told the detectives the first time they asked. Grant doesn’t look the least bit surprised when I mention the roof being Sadie’s secret spot that she’d shown me. It turns out he wasn’t joking about knowing what goes on under his roof—and on top of it, apparently.
“Good,” Grant says when I’m done. He’s been jotting down notes while I talked, but I can’t read his handwriting from this side of the table. “This is all very good. There’s definitely nothing to hold you on, so let’s get you out of here, what do you say?”
“That would be really, really great, yeah.” I need a good night’s sleep, if that’s even possible. And time to digest what happened tonight. I still feel a little numb when I remember the way Kathryn’s body contorted around Pearl’s dead rosebush. I’m actually not so sure I’ll be getting a good night’s sleep after all.
Grant walks me out, leading me through the hallway maze that leads back out into the lobby of the small precinct. Pearl stands up, relief flooding her face when she sees me. It’s so very strange to see her outside of Lexington Estate. I’m pretty sure this is the first time she’s left the house since I got here. As Pearl picks her way towards me, I turn to watch Grant step away to greet his family.
Celia is standing with an arm protectively over each of her children, both who look even more exhausted than I feel. Celia looks as sloshed as she did the last time I saw her, but I try not to think about that.
I make eye contact with each of the Harrington twins in turn. First, Sadie. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying. No one could blame her for that. She looks away quickly when our eyes meet. I try not to take that personally. She’s suffered a major loss tonight and then been forced to be questioned about it instead of being left to grieve. I can’t believe I thought for even one second that she might be in any way responsible for what happened to Kathryn. The overwhelming sadness is all too clear on her face. She didn’t do this.
When I look to Smith, he meets my gaze steadily. His face is blank at first, but softens after a moment. His dad says something to him, and Smith nods. He starts to take a couple steps in my direction, but Pearl reaches me first.
“I know you want to speak with your friends, Juliet, but we must get back to the house. The police won’t stay all night, and we can’t leave the estate unprotected.” She gives me a slight pinch behind my arm, spurring me forward towards the double doors. I try not to think too much about how it stings to hear her prioritizing Lexington Estate over me once again. Her whole heart is in that house. I don’t know why I still manage to let it surprise me.
Just as we’re about to walk out, a door slams open behind us. Headmaster Dupont exits from the back, followed closely by a woman who must be his wife, then Patrick and another man. A lawyer, I presume.
My eyes meet Patrick’s. He looks a little frenzied as he seems to check me over, his eyes examining me like he’s worried something might be wrong with me. I’m so confused by the gesture that I glance down to look myself over, too. Does he know something I don’t?
The group of them storm towards the door—well, Headmaster Dupont storms, the others just kind of trail behind his angry form—forcing Pearl and I to step out of the way or risk being bowled over. As they pass, Patrick slows beside me.
“I’m sorry you got roped into this crap,” he says quietly, reaching out to squeeze my hand. I squeeze back automatically, only afterward considering how weird the contact was. Pearl makes a harrumph sound from beside me.
For a second, time seems to slow. I look back at the Harringtons, making eye contact again with both of them. Then, I look at Patrick one last time. All of us are suddenly exchanging eye contact. The weight of what happened tonight seems to be weighing on everyone. I can see it in all of their eyes, a sort of lost look that makes me avert my own gaze. I might have felt traumatized by seeing Kathryn’s body tonight, but for them, they just lost one of their own.
Chapter Two
I’ve barely slept at all when the early morning text comes in from Sadie asking me to meet. She sends directions to a guest cottage on the Harrington property that I didn’t even know existed. I climb out of bed, where I’ve been laying awake for what feels like forever anyway, and dress in exercise leggings and a big sweater. I don’t have the energy for more than that, not at this hour.
The sun is barely peeking over the horizon when I sneak quietly out of the house. I go out the back, but regret it almost immediately. My feet freeze, my eyes zeroing in on the spot in the garden where police tape still surrounds the spot where Kathryn’s body was. Two police officers are still here, both of them nodding to me as I tear my eyes away. If they wonder what I’m doing, they don’t say anything.
Last night, when Pearl and I got back from the police station, the police chief was here. He warned us then that we were still considered an active crime scene. I’m actually surprised we were allowed to come back here at all.
Back in Nikon Park, a murder would have kept a house tied up for days, maybe even weeks. It happened to my classmates more than once. It’s obvious the rules are different here in Patience.
Cold winter wind whips around me, blowing my hair around my face as I follow the tree line between the two properties. Sadie mentioned a wooden bridge over the creek running between the two properties. I don’t remember seeing any such thing when I explored the property back in the fall, but now with the trees dead it’s not hard to find it.
The wooden planks cross the widest part of the creek. They groan under my weight as I cross carefully. Despite the low temperature, there’s still water flowing through the creek bed.
As I emerge on the other side, officially crossing over onto Harrington property, I can see the lights glowing from the guest house. Though, guest house feels like a bit of an exaggeration. Mini-mansion would feel more accurate. Even the Harrington’s guest house is at least five times bigger than the house I grew up in.
I hesitate in the doorway, not sure if I should knock or what. I’m standing there for a solid minute or two when Patrick’s face appears in the glass of the door. He frowns at me and I frown back as he pulls the door open. I didn’t know he was here.
“Has no one ever taught you to knock?” Patrick asks, staring at me with that same look he gets every time he accuses me of being stupid in some way. So glad I came out in the cold for this.
I shake my head at him, completely unable to take this so early in the morning. “Okay, see ya.” I turn to go, fully willing to deal with the consequences with Sadie later for not showing up. I don’t get far before Patrick is yanking me back by a fistful of my sweater.
“Someone died last night, Juliet.” His face is grave when I turn back, pulling my sweater out of his grip. “So get your ass in here so we can all figure out what the hell happened.” Hearing him say all makes me even more reluctant to go in. I have a bad feeling I can guess who’s waiting inside. When I don’t move right away, Patrick gives me the same confusing look he gave me last night. “It’ll be okay,” he says, his voice ten times softer than before.
He reaches out and strokes my cheek with his thumb. It’s a tender gesture, surprisingly so. But then Jax’s voice yells out from inside, “What the fuck are you all doing out there? Foreplay? Get the hell in here and close the door.”
I’m sure my face is beat red as I step around Patrick and follow Jax’s voice to a full living room suite. Sadie and Smith are both sitting in chairs on one sid
e of the room. On the other, Jax is leaned back against a plush sofa. Looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world, of course. As if we’re all just casually hanging out, instead of meeting to talk about a death. I’m so mad at the sight of him that even that black eye he’s sporting from Patrick isn’t enough to ease the burning in my gut. I really, really hate him.
I force myself to look away. Focusing instead on Sadie, who’s suffered the biggest loss of anyone, as far as I’m concerned. Her face is pale, and I eye the cup in her hand warily. I can only guess that she’s drinking something a lot stronger than she should be. Her bloodshot eyes seem to confirm it.
There’s a pain in my chest as I look around at them, sparing another glance in Patrick’s direction as well when he joins us. Everyone looks ragged. I think it’s safe to assume they got about as much sleep as I did, which was next to none. We’ve all only been home for a few hours anyway, the mild bleach smell of the interrogation rooms still lingering on all of our skin.
Patrick brushes past me to sit on the opposite end of the couch from Jax. With a sinking feeling, I realize I should have moved to sit first. Now I’m left with no choice but to sit between the two of them. Actually, I eye the rug on the floor. That might be pretty uncomfortable…
“Just sit the fuck down,” Jax snaps as if he’s read my mind.
I hold back my eye roll and take the open seat. It won’t do me any good to antagonize him while he’s already obviously on edge. It does seem a little unfair, though, him being the most dicey even though he was the first to get released last night. Thanks to Governor Daddy Dearest.