Twisted Palace
Page 19
My blood runs cold.
Ella’s grip tightens on my fingers.
Steve straightens from the desk. “Callum, I appreciate you taking care of her when I was gone, but I’m Ella’s father. You have your hands full with your own children right now—Ella and I don’t need to be here.”
Oh hell no. She’s not leaving me or this house.
“Dad,” I say in warning.
“Steve, your place hasn’t been released yet,” Callum reminds the other man. “And it doesn’t sound like it will be for a while.” He looks at the attorney for confirmation.
Grier nods. “The sheriff’s office said they’ll be collecting evidence for another two weeks, at least.”
“That’s fine. Dinah and I procured the penthouse suite at the Hallow Oaks.” Steve reaches into his pocket and pulls out a plastic keycard. “I’ve added your name to the reservation, Ella. Here’s your key.”
She makes no move toward it. “No. I’m not sleeping in the same house as Dinah.” Hastily, she adds, “No offense.”
“Ella’s a Royal,” I say coldly.
Steve’s gaze falls to where Ella’s hand is white-knuckling my wrist. “You better hope not,” he murmurs in amusement.
“Be reasonable, Steve,” Dad says. “Let’s get you settled first. We have a number of legal matters to work out. This is new for everyone.”
“Ella’s seventeen, which means she’s still under her parent’s authority, isn’t that right, Halston?”
The lawyer tips his head. “That is correct.” He rises and shakes out his pant legs. “It sounds like all of you have private matters to work through. I’ll get out of your way now.” He stops when he’s halfway to the door and frowns at me. “I assume I don’t need to tell you to stay away from the funeral on Saturday?”
I frown back. “What funeral?”
“Brooke’s,” Dad says tightly, before glancing at Grier. “And no, Reed won’t be attending.”
“Good.”
I can’t stop a bite of sarcasm. “What happened to your whole stand-united-as-a-family thing?”
Grier’s response is just as biting. “You can stand united anywhere but that funeral home. And for the love of God, Reed, keep your nose clean. No more fights at school, no bullshit, all right?” His eyes fall to Ella with an unspoken warning.
My biggest weakness? No way. Ella’s the steel in my spine, but Grier only sees her as evidence of my motive. I step closer to her.
He shakes his head and turns to Dad, adding, “Let me know if you want me to arrange another meeting with Delacorte.”
“There’s no meeting,” I snap at them.
Dad pats the lawyer on the back. “I’ll call you.”
Frustration jams in my throat. It’s like I’m not even here. And if no one’s going to listen to me, then there’s no point in being here.
“Let’s go,” I tell Ella.
I pull her out of the study without waiting for her agreement—or anyone else’s.
A minute later, we’re upstairs, and I throw open her bedroom door and hustle her inside.
“This is stupid!” she blurts out. “I’m not moving into some hotel with Steve and that horrible woman!”
“Nope,” I agree, watching as she climbs onto her bed. Her uniform skirt rides up and I get a nice view of her ass before she sits down and draws her legs up under her chin.
“And you’re being stupid, too,” she grumbles. “I think we should take Delacorte’s deal.”
“Nope,” I say again.
“Reed.”
“Ella.”
“It would keep you out of prison!”
“No, it would keep me in that bastard’s pocket for the rest of my life. It’s not happening, babe. Seriously. So get the idea out of your head.”
“Fine, let’s say you’re not taking the deal—”
“I’m not.”
“—then what do we do now?”
I take off my white dress shirt and kick off my shoes. Wearing my pants and a wife-beater, I join Ella on the bed and draw her into my arms. She snuggles up against me, but only for a brief moment. Then she’s sitting up again, scowling at me.
“I asked you a question,” she grumbles.
I exhale in frustration. “There’s nothing for us to do, Ella. It’s Grier’s job to deal with everything.”
“Well, he’s not doing a very good job of it if he’s recommending you make deals with shady judges!” Her cheeks redden with anger. “Let’s make a list.”
“A list of what?” I ask blankly.
“All the people who could have killed Brooke.” She jumps off the bed and hurries to her desk, where she grabs her laptop. “Other than Dinah, who else was she close to?”
“Nobody, as far as I know,” I admit.
Ella sits on the edge of the bed, opening the laptop. “That’s not an acceptable answer.”
Exasperation shoots through me. “It’s the only answer I’ve got. Brooke didn’t have any friends.”
“But she had enemies—that’s what you said, right?” She pulls up a search engine and types Brooke’s name into it. About a million results pop up for a million different Brooke Davidsons. “So it’s just a matter of finding out who those enemies are.”
I rise up on my elbows. “So you’re, what, Lois Lane now? You’re going to solve this case on your own?”
“Do you have a better idea?” she counters.
I sigh. “Dad’s got investigators. They found you, remember?”
Ella’s hand pauses over the mouse, but her hesitation lasts only for a second before she clicks on what appears to be Brooke’s Facebook page. While the page loads, she throws me a thoughtful glance.
“The funeral,” she announces.
“What about it?” I ask cautiously. I don’t like where she’s going with this.
“I think I should go.”
I sit up in a rush. “No way. Grier said we couldn’t go.”
“No, he said you couldn’t go.” Her gaze returns to the screen. “Hey, did you know Brooke had a BA from North Carolina State?”
Ella’s grip tightens on my fingers.
Steve straightens from the desk. “Callum, I appreciate you taking care of her when I was gone, but I’m Ella’s father. You have your hands full with your own children right now—Ella and I don’t need to be here.”
Oh hell no. She’s not leaving me or this house.
“Dad,” I say in warning.
“Steve, your place hasn’t been released yet,” Callum reminds the other man. “And it doesn’t sound like it will be for a while.” He looks at the attorney for confirmation.
Grier nods. “The sheriff’s office said they’ll be collecting evidence for another two weeks, at least.”
“That’s fine. Dinah and I procured the penthouse suite at the Hallow Oaks.” Steve reaches into his pocket and pulls out a plastic keycard. “I’ve added your name to the reservation, Ella. Here’s your key.”
She makes no move toward it. “No. I’m not sleeping in the same house as Dinah.” Hastily, she adds, “No offense.”
“Ella’s a Royal,” I say coldly.
Steve’s gaze falls to where Ella’s hand is white-knuckling my wrist. “You better hope not,” he murmurs in amusement.
“Be reasonable, Steve,” Dad says. “Let’s get you settled first. We have a number of legal matters to work out. This is new for everyone.”
“Ella’s seventeen, which means she’s still under her parent’s authority, isn’t that right, Halston?”
The lawyer tips his head. “That is correct.” He rises and shakes out his pant legs. “It sounds like all of you have private matters to work through. I’ll get out of your way now.” He stops when he’s halfway to the door and frowns at me. “I assume I don’t need to tell you to stay away from the funeral on Saturday?”
I frown back. “What funeral?”
“Brooke’s,” Dad says tightly, before glancing at Grier. “And no, Reed won’t be attending.”
“Good.”
I can’t stop a bite of sarcasm. “What happened to your whole stand-united-as-a-family thing?”
Grier’s response is just as biting. “You can stand united anywhere but that funeral home. And for the love of God, Reed, keep your nose clean. No more fights at school, no bullshit, all right?” His eyes fall to Ella with an unspoken warning.
My biggest weakness? No way. Ella’s the steel in my spine, but Grier only sees her as evidence of my motive. I step closer to her.
He shakes his head and turns to Dad, adding, “Let me know if you want me to arrange another meeting with Delacorte.”
“There’s no meeting,” I snap at them.
Dad pats the lawyer on the back. “I’ll call you.”
Frustration jams in my throat. It’s like I’m not even here. And if no one’s going to listen to me, then there’s no point in being here.
“Let’s go,” I tell Ella.
I pull her out of the study without waiting for her agreement—or anyone else’s.
A minute later, we’re upstairs, and I throw open her bedroom door and hustle her inside.
“This is stupid!” she blurts out. “I’m not moving into some hotel with Steve and that horrible woman!”
“Nope,” I agree, watching as she climbs onto her bed. Her uniform skirt rides up and I get a nice view of her ass before she sits down and draws her legs up under her chin.
“And you’re being stupid, too,” she grumbles. “I think we should take Delacorte’s deal.”
“Nope,” I say again.
“Reed.”
“Ella.”
“It would keep you out of prison!”
“No, it would keep me in that bastard’s pocket for the rest of my life. It’s not happening, babe. Seriously. So get the idea out of your head.”
“Fine, let’s say you’re not taking the deal—”
“I’m not.”
“—then what do we do now?”
I take off my white dress shirt and kick off my shoes. Wearing my pants and a wife-beater, I join Ella on the bed and draw her into my arms. She snuggles up against me, but only for a brief moment. Then she’s sitting up again, scowling at me.
“I asked you a question,” she grumbles.
I exhale in frustration. “There’s nothing for us to do, Ella. It’s Grier’s job to deal with everything.”
“Well, he’s not doing a very good job of it if he’s recommending you make deals with shady judges!” Her cheeks redden with anger. “Let’s make a list.”
“A list of what?” I ask blankly.
“All the people who could have killed Brooke.” She jumps off the bed and hurries to her desk, where she grabs her laptop. “Other than Dinah, who else was she close to?”
“Nobody, as far as I know,” I admit.
Ella sits on the edge of the bed, opening the laptop. “That’s not an acceptable answer.”
Exasperation shoots through me. “It’s the only answer I’ve got. Brooke didn’t have any friends.”
“But she had enemies—that’s what you said, right?” She pulls up a search engine and types Brooke’s name into it. About a million results pop up for a million different Brooke Davidsons. “So it’s just a matter of finding out who those enemies are.”
I rise up on my elbows. “So you’re, what, Lois Lane now? You’re going to solve this case on your own?”
“Do you have a better idea?” she counters.
I sigh. “Dad’s got investigators. They found you, remember?”
Ella’s hand pauses over the mouse, but her hesitation lasts only for a second before she clicks on what appears to be Brooke’s Facebook page. While the page loads, she throws me a thoughtful glance.
“The funeral,” she announces.
“What about it?” I ask cautiously. I don’t like where she’s going with this.
“I think I should go.”
I sit up in a rush. “No way. Grier said we couldn’t go.”
“No, he said you couldn’t go.” Her gaze returns to the screen. “Hey, did you know Brooke had a BA from North Carolina State?”
