Framed (9 page)

“Officer Beauchamp,” I said, putting a tiny smile on my face as I struggled to quickly pull my hair down and cover the growing bruise on my cheek. I'd hoped he hadn't already seen it. “Don't worry about it. I'm always a bit jumpy. I'm just having trouble finding the right key.”

“This is your place?” he asked, jerking his thumb towards the shop.

“It is,” I replied, smiling. “I'm an upstanding local business owner.”

“So you are,” he said, slowly getting out of his sedan.

“I didn't recognize you right off. You look younger without the uniform,” I explained. “What are you up to tonight?”

He pressed his lips together as his eyebrows furrowed. I knew that look—I didn't like it.

“I'm driving around the downtown area, looking for anything suspicious. Just between you and I, the cops don't have any leads on these murders. That isn't sitting well with me.”

“So they're having you patrol in your off hours too? Or do they just have you in plain clothes?”

“Nobody is having me do anything. I'm taking this on of my own accord.”

“Oh.”

“You really shouldn't be out alone right now,” he said, ushering me towards the entrance to the shop.

“I'm fine, really. It's not even that late.”

“We've gotten some of the autopsy results back,” he said, grimly. “The time of death was never conclusive, so we don't know when he's striking. Don't get a false sense of security.”

He reached for my key-ring and rummaged through the multiple keys strung along it. Just as he pulled the correct one out of the bunch, Peyta appeared in the window. She gave a wave and made her way over to let me in, but her face gave away a hint of uncertainty at the sight of Beauchamp.

“Hey, Ruby,” she said, greeting me as she swung the door open. “Holy crap you have a lot of keys!”

“I know. I need to pare it down a bit. I don't think I even know what most of them are for...,” I said, nervously playing with the keys that Beauchamp handed me. “How did you know which key it was?”

He smiled wide, walking back towards his vehicle. “I'm a detective, Ruby. It's my job to put two and two together. Apart from that, that has to be the oldest hardware I've seen on a door in a long time. I just looked for the oldest key.”

“Ah,” I said, wanting to smack myself on the forehead. “Touché, Officer Beauchamp. Touché.”

“It's Alan,” he said, closing the car door. “Be careful, Ruby. There are a lot of crazies out there.”

“Don't I know it,” I muttered under my breath, the sound drowned out by the turning over of his engine.

Peyta stepped back to let me in. She watched me as I passed her on my left and dragged myself across the floor while I pulled my hair back up into a matted ponytail. I couldn't handle the heat it was trapping around my neck. The momentary change of focus distracted me, and I forgot what my face looked like.

“Jesus, Ruby. What happened to you?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. “Where have you been?”

I laughed the laugh that people do when they're on the brink of exhaustion and a mental breakdown. It had a crazy ring to it.

“I feel like I get asked those two questions all the time, Peyta,” I sighed, plopping myself in the chair behind the counter. “It was a bad day.”

She sidled up next to me, leaning her elbows on the front desk, and her chin in her hands.

“How bad?” she asked, with a softness that said she was aware of my mental state.

“Another brother was murdered,” I replied with a sigh. “I saw him die.”

“You were there?” she asked, standing up straight. She leaned away from me; I didn't want to know why.
“Sean brought me. He got a call. I think he thought it would help somehow.”

“And?”

“Big 'no' on that one. Big. Huge. Ginormous,” I replied. “As always, my presence only started a fight. Sean can't hold them off forever, P. If we don't find out who is doing this soon...”

I trailed off, thinking she would see the writing on the wall. Her eager eyes told me she didn't. I guess it hadn't been impressed upon her exactly
how
much I was despised, loathed, and detested by the PC, both historically and presently. I really didn't want to explain in that moment, but felt she needed to have her eyes opened a little wider still.

“They'll kill me,” I said, plainly. “It's their job.”

“Sean would never let that happen,” she sputtered. “He...he just wouldn't...he can't!”

“No, Peyta,” I said softly, my expression bleak. “He'd be the one to pull the trigger. Some decisions are made
for
you.”

She saw the sincerity of my gaze and knew I was telling her the cold, hard facts—not an exaggeration.

“Shit,” she said with an exhale.

“Exactly.”

“So you rolled up on a crime scene as the prime suspect?” she asked, the wheels in her mind visibly turning.

“I did indeed.”

“You're lucky that welt on your face is all you walked away with.”

“That and the concussion that accompanied it.”

She came to rest her head in her hands again, leaning on the counter. There was silence between us for a minute.

“So you actually saw him die?”

“I did,” I replied mournfully. “It was horrible. He looked so young.” I glanced up and saw the same youth in Peyta's face that was slowly and painfully drained from Thomas's. Tears welled in my eyes. “It made me wish I was blind again.”

Peyta slipped an arm around my shoulders and gently dropped her head against mine.

“I'm sorry, Ruby. I wish I could have been there to help.”

I shot up and looked her in the eyes.

“I don't want you around that shit, Peyta.
Never
again. It's a life of death and sadness and it's not something you should wish for.”

“But Sophie said it's my calling—”

“I don't give a shit what Sophie said,” I spat. “Sophie isn't exactly the model of happiness and fulfillment to me. She's bitter and spiteful and
alone
. Is that what you want? What you want to become?”

“No, I just wanted to help—”

“If you want to help, Peyta, you'll stay far away from the PC,” I said before dropping my gaze as well as my volume. “You should probably stay far away from
me
too.”

“And Cooper?” she asked, choking on her words slightly.

“And Cooper.”

I watched her steel herself, erasing her momentary lapse in control.

“It's not gonna happen, Ruby. You can't shelter me,” she said, anger leaking into her tone. “My mother has been doing that my whole life. I'm tired of it, and I don't need it from you too!”

“I'm sorry I got so upset, Peyta... I'm just worried about you.”

“Maybe you should be worried about
you
. I'm not the one coming home battered and bruised with a lynch mob after me,” she snapped, going into the back to collect her things. She stormed back into the front on her way out the door. “I'm leaving,” she said, hovering at the door before exiting. “Am I coming back tomorrow?”

“If it's what you want,” I sighed. Peyta was a feisty one—there would be no controlling her. She came by those traits fairly honestly. “And, Peyta? I said those things because I care, not because I want to shelter you. Please don't be angry with me. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“I know, Ruby. I'm not angry; I'm frustrated. Maybe I'm projecting feelings onto you that should be directed elsewhere. My mom isn't as easy to deal with.”

“No, she isn't,” I scoffed. “Maybe the PC
is
a safer place for you.”

“You just never know,” she said as she made her way out the door to her mother’s car. “Goodnight, Ruby.”

8

I collapsed down onto the counter, face and all, which proved to be a poorly thought out plan as the pain surged through my cheek. I gingerly turned my face the other direction and laid it back down. It seemed that no matter what choice I made, or reaction I had, it was inevitably wrong. As I blew out a deep breath, the papers I'd been oblivious to flew off the countertop, only further reinforcing my recent observation—things were just not going in my favor.

I heaved myself up off the cold surface, which had felt amazingly good to press against, and bent down to pick up the mess I'd made. Peyta was mad enough with me, regardless of whether or not she said she was. Adding to her filing wasn't going to improve matters. I scooped up the final strays and tapped the pile together on the floor to even the edges up neatly. While I placed them delicately in a pile on the lower shelf of the front desk, the bells alerted me to someone coming in.

“Sorry, we're—” I started as I shot up from behind the counter. I snapped my mouth closed when I saw the figure standing before me. Never in a million years would I have expected to see it.

“I saw the light on,” Sophie said meekly, gesturing to the fixture above her head. “I assumed someone was still here.”

“Peyta's gone,” I told her curtly. “You just missed her.”

“I know,” she admitted shyly. “I saw her leave.”

“Then why—”

“I need to talk to you, Ruby,” she said, cutting me off.

“If this is about me and Sean, I don't even want to hear it, Sophie. I can't help that he drags me to crime scenes and shows up unexpectedly to grill me on my whereabouts. You're going to have to take that up with him.”

“Not about that, Ruby. Something else...something more troublesome,” she whispered. “Sean is in danger. I need your help.”

My heart sank instantly in my chest. If Sophie was coming to me as an ally, things were beyond bad—they were apocalyptic. I straightened my shoulders and pushed the fear and anxiety I felt aside.

“What kind of danger?”

“The lethal kind, Ruby,” she said, lunging gently towards me with an outstretched hand. “I think they're going to harm him. Maybe kill him.”

“Who?” I exploded, backing away from her slightly. “Why?”

She dropped her gaze to her uncontrollably wringing hands. When she looked back up at me, there were tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She was terrified.

“The PC,” she started slowly, trying to calm herself. “I overheard a conversation today that I shouldn't have. I think they thought I'd left after Thomas...after Thomas died, but I hadn't. After Sean got angry with me, I went back to the house. I couldn't stand being out there with all that was going on. I heard a lot of commotion and saw the fighting; I thought it was best that I stay put. Once everything was taken care of, some of the brothers left, but others stayed to clean out the house.”

Sophie had taken to pacing the store, her hands still clasped tightly together as she rambled on without pause.

“As they approached, I could hear what they were saying, talking about the good old days, a poisoned mind...and
retribution. They were talking about
Sean
. I hid in the basement to see what else I could find out. I couldn't recognize their voices, but one of them actually called the Elders. As best I could tell, they're planning to come here.” She finally stopped speaking, staring at me for emphasis.

My mind was too busy reeling to pick up on whatever little nuance I clearly had missed.

“And?” I asked, trying to spur her along.

“And the Elders haven't been to America before, Ruby. Not
ever
. It would take something epic to drag them from their comforts of home.”

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

“So if you think they're coming to kill Sean, why aren't you telling him all this?” I asked, still uneasy about her confiding in me.

“Don't you think I have? He doesn't care, Ruby. He says to let them come, that they can't do anything to him without cause and he's done nothing wrong.”

“Well, if he's not worried about it, why are you?”

“Because Sean doesn't see what's going on.”

“Well, I hope you do, because I think I'm in Sean's camp on that point.”

“He doesn't see that the Elders are no longer happy with his covenant to keep you safe. They allowed it at first, but now it's not to be borne. After everything they were told over the phone, I'm afraid they will suffer it no longer.” she said, her voice becoming increasingly frantic. “Sean thinks he's invincible. He's wrong—I know that to be true.”

I said nothing, only stared and attempted once again to process the subtext of what she was telling me. My bond to Sean that he willingly placed upon us was going to get him killed because he didn't believe that death was even on the table for him.

My initial reaction was to call him and tell him to remove it, but there were two major issues with that. For starters, it would have required Sean to listen to me, and I knew
that
wasn't going to happen. The other issue was if, for some strange reason, he agreed to do it, it left me marked for death—and the PC would make short work of that for sure.

“There's no solution to this...he won't undo it,” I told her, wide-eyed with increasing panic. “There's nothing we can do.”