Twisted Palace (5 page)

Then she gets up from the table and stomps off.

“Hey!” Wade shouts after her. “I only had those other cookies that one time and only because the baker I wanted to get the cookies from was closed!”

He shoots up from his seat and hustles after Val, leaving Easton, Reed, and me staring after them.

“I have a feeling they aren’t talking about cookies,” Easton remarks.

No kidding. And as much as I hate seeing Val upset, I can’t help but envy her problems.

Relationship issues are a lot easier to manage when you’re not worrying that your boyfriend might go to prison.

T
he moment
I walk through the front door, my dad pokes his head into the parlor and jerks a finger in my direction. “I need you in my study. Now.”

Ella and I exchange a wary look. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that word of my fight with Richmond got back to Dad. Damn it. I was hoping to tell him myself.

“Should I come with you?” Ella asks with a grimace.

After a beat, I shake my head. “Nah. Go upstairs and do some homework or something. This won’t be fun.” When she hesitates, I give her a gentle nudge. “Go. I’ll be up soon.”

I wait in the parlor until she disappears upstairs, then release the unhappy sigh that’s been jammed in my chest all day long. School sucked ass today, and not just because I broke a teammate’s nose. The whispers and stares got to me. Normally I don’t give a crap what my classmates think of me, but today the tension in the air was almost suffocating.

Everyone wonders if I killed Brooke. Most believe it. Even some of my own teammates. Hell, sometimes I think Ella might believe it, too. She hasn’t said that, but at lunch I caught her staring at me when she thought I wasn’t looking. She had this expression on her face. I can’t even describe it. Not quite doubt, but apprehension maybe. A flicker of sadness, too.

I told myself that she was just freaked out about everything, but a part of me wonders if
she
wonders. If she keeps looking at me like that because she’s trying to figure out if she’s dating a killer or some shit.

“Reed.”

Dad’s sharp voice spurs me to motion. I march down the hall to his study, and my mood sinks even lower when I spot Grier behind the commanding desk. Dad is sitting on the nearby armchair.

“What’s wrong?” I ask instantly.

“Do you really need to ask?” Dad’s expression is dark and menacing. “I got a phone call from the headmaster earlier. He told me all about your little temper tantrum in the locker room.”

I bristle. “It wasn’t a temper tantrum. Richmond was saying shit about Mom.”

For once, the mention of my mother doesn’t cause my dad to soften. “I don’t care if he was insulting Jesus Christ himself—you can’t fight at school, Reed! Not anymore, and especially not when you’re facing a second-degree murder charge!”

Equal parts shame and anger weigh on my gut. My dad’s face is red, his fists clenched together at his sides, but through the haze of anger in his eyes, I catch a glimpse of something even worse—disappointment.

I can’t remember the last time I cared whether or not my father was disappointed in me. But…I kind of care right now.

“Sit down, Reed.” The request comes from Grier, who has his trusty gold pen poised over his legal pad. “There are a few things we need to go over.”

Reluctantly, I walk over to one of the padded chairs and sit down. My dad stiffly lowers himself into the other chair.

“We’ll discuss the fighting in a moment,” Grier says. “First, you need to tell me why your DNA was found under Brooke’s fingernails.”

Shock slams into me. “What?”

“I spoke to the assistant district attorney today, as well the detectives in charge of the investigation. They were waiting for DNA testing to be conducted before they divulged any details to us. But the results are back, and believe me, they were eager to share them.” Grier’s face becomes grave. “Skin cells were found in the fingernail scrapings they took from Brooke. DNA matches yours.”

“How did they get my DNA?” I demand. “I didn’t provide a sample.”

“They have it from the last arrest.”

I wince.
Last arrest.
That sounds bad. “They can do that?”

“Once you’re in the system, you’re there forever.” Grier shuffles a few papers while Dad looks on grimly. “We’re going to go over your night, step by step, second by second. Don’t leave anything out. If you passed gas, I want to know about it. What did you do after you went to see Brooke?”

“I came home.”

“Right after?”

“Yes.”

Grier’s features sharpen. “Are you sure about that?”

I furrow my brow. “I…think so?”

“Wrong answer. The security footage has you arriving an hour later.”

“Arriving where?”

“Here,” he snaps, looking annoyed. “Your home has video surveillance, Reed, or have you forgotten?”

I glance at my father, who nods grimly. “We checked the tapes when you were at school,” he tells me. “The cameras show you coming home at ten p.m.”

“A full hour after you left the O’Halloran penthouse,” Grier points out.

I scan my brain again, trying to remember that night. “I drove around the city a bit,” I say slowly. “I was still pissed about that whole conversation with Brooke. I wanted to calm myself down before I—”

“No,” my dad interrupts.

“No what?” I’m so fucking confused right now.

“You don’t say stuff like that, you hear me? You cannot insinuate, even between us, that you were in a state that required ‘calming down’ that night. You fought with Brooke, but it was no big deal,” Dad says firmly. “You were calm when you went there and calm when you left.”

Frustration knots inside me. “What does it matter if I drove around for an hour or three or ten?” I burst out. “
Their
tapes show me leaving the penthouse twenty minutes after I got there. So what if I didn’t get home until an hour later?”

“They’re going to subpoena your security footage,” Grier tells my father, as if I hadn’t even spoken. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“Again, what does it matter?” I press.

Grier points the pen at me. “It matters because you lied. If you lie once on the stand, they will crucify you there.”

“The stand? I’m going to have to testify?” A whirlwind of emotions forms one giant lump in my stomach. I’ve been telling myself all along that the police will find the real killer during the investigation, but it looks like they think
I’m
the real killer.

“The detectives noticed you touched your waist a few times and that bloodstains on your shirt developed throughout the interrogation.”

“Fuck,” I mutter. It feels like a rope just got wrapped around my neck.

“How did that happen?” Grier pushes.

“I don’t know. Maybe when I was driving? Or I reached for something?”

“And this injury was the one you sustained how?”

I don’t have to be a lawyer to know that my next admission is going to sound bad. “I got stabbed on the docks.”

“And you were down there why?”

“Fighting,” I mumble under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Fighting. I was fighting.”

“You were fighting?” he repeats.

“There’s no law against fighting.” One of the guys I fight at the docks is the son of an assistant AG. He claims that if we all agree to participate, we aren’t doing anything wrong. Wanting to get hit by someone else isn’t a prosecutable offense.

But I guess it can be evidence of someone who’s violent and possibly murderous.

“And no exchange of money? I have a Franklin Deutmeyer, otherwise known as Fat Deuce, who says that Easton Royal places bets with him for football games. You telling me he never bets on your fights?” Grier doesn’t wait for my lie. “We interviewed Justin Markowitz, who says that there is plenty of money exchanged.”

It doesn’t sound like he needs a response, and I’m right, because Grier barrels forward like he’s ready to give the closing argument to put me away.

“You fight for money. You fight because it makes you feel good. You put a kid in the hospital for no good reason—”

I do interrupt this time. “He insulted my mother.” 

“Like this Richmond boy whose nose you broke today? He also insulted your mother?”

“Yes,” I say tightly.

“And what about Brooke? Did she insult your mother, too?”

“What are you saying?” my father growls.

“I’m saying your son has a temper,” Grier snaps. “You so much as breathe on his dead mother’s grave—”

Dad flinches.

“—and he loses control.” Grier tosses his pen on the desk and glares at me. “The DA has a real hard-on for this case. I don’t know why. They’ve got unsolved crimes up the wazoo, murders that happen regularly from the drug trade, bookies like Fat Deuce running around taking money from kids, but they like this case and they like you as the one who did it. Our investigators did a little digging and there are rumors that Dinah O’Halloran may have had a relationship with DA Pat Marolt.

This time it’s Dad who curses. “Goddammit.”

The rope gets tighter.

“They’re going to interview every single one of your classmates. If you’ve had problems with any of them, you’d better tell me about it now.”

“You’re supposed to be one of the best lawyers in the state,” Dad says testily.

“You’re asking me to perform a miracle,” Grier snaps back.

“No,” I interrupt. “We’re asking you to find out the truth. Because while I don’t mind taking a free shot to my jaw, I do care about going to prison for something I didn’t do. I’m an asshole, for sure. But I don’t hit women, and I sure as shit would never kill one.”

Dad steps close and lays a hand on my shoulder. “You win this case, Grier. I don’t care what else you have on your desk. Nothing else matters until Reed’s free of this.”

The
or else
is implied.

Grier’s mouth thins, but he doesn’t object. Instead, he rises, tucks all his papers away, and says, “I’ll get to work.”

“What should we be doing while the investigation continues?” Dad asks, seeing Grier to the door.

I’m stuck in the chair, wondering how in the hell my life has come to this. I look down at my hands. Did I kill her? Did I dream leaving the penthouse? Am I suffering some weird memory lapse?

“Put on a happy face, act normally, and pretend you’re not guilty.”

“I’m
not
guilty,” I growl.

Grier pauses in the hall. “The DA needs means, motive, and opportunity to prove the crime. Brooke struck her head on the fireplace with enough force to cause her brain to shear from the spinal cord. You’re big and strong and like to punch people around. They have you on tape within the golden period. And they have motive. Oh, and Ella Harper?”

I tense up. “What about her?”

“Stay away from her,” Grier says flatly. “She’s your biggest weakness.”

R
eed is waiting
for me on the front steps when I get to school. This time Easton is the one who’s missing, but I’m kind of grateful to be alone with Reed, especially after last night. His meeting with Callum and Grier left him sullen and close-mouthed, and it was the first night in a long time that he didn’t sleep in my bedroom. I didn’t beg him to stay, but I did push him to talk.

From the little he told me, I guess the lawyer is worried about Reed’s fighting and the fact that he was unaccounted for during the hour he left the penthouse to the time he got back to the Royal mansion.

That part, I don’t really get. So what if he didn’t go home right away? It doesn’t mean he was doing anything suspicious, especially since the cops know he left the penthouse twenty minutes after he got there.

Still, if it bugs Grier and Callum this much, then it must be important. So it’s the first thing I bring up once I kiss Reed hello.

“I still don’t get why that hour you were driving around means anything.”

His eyes darken, which, combined with his untucked dress shirt and unbuttoned blue blazer, gives him a bad-boy vibe. I was never drawn to the bad-boy type before I met Reed, but in him I find it kind of irresistible.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he mutters.

“Then why is the lawyer so worried about it?”

Reed shrugs. “I don’t know. But I don’t want
you
to worry about it, okay?”

“I can’t not worry.” I hesitate, not wanting to bring up this idea again because I know it makes him mad, but I can’t help myself. “We still have time to run,” I plead, then look around to make sure nobody is lurking near us. I lower my voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to sit here and wait for you to be locked up.”

His eyes lose that hard glint. “Baby. It’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know that?” A helpless feeling washes over me. “I’ve already lost the only other person who meant something to me. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Sighing, Reed pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead. “You’re not going to lose me.”

His mouth travels lower and finds mine, and he slips his tongue between my lips, taking my breath away, making my knees a little weak. I grab onto his biceps so I don’t fall over.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” he whispers against my lips. “So be strong for me, okay? We’re not running. We’re going to stay and fight.”

Before I can respond, a car engine snags my attention. I turn around in time to see a police cruiser pulling into the huge drive in front of the main building.

Both Reed and I stiffen.

“Are they here for you?” I ask anxiously.

His dark expression is back, blue eyes fixed on the cruiser. “I don’t know.” His face only gets cloudier when a stocky man with a bald head gets out of the driver’s side. “Shit.”

“You know him?” I hiss.

Reed nods. “Detective Cousins. He’s one of the cops who interviewed me.”

Oh God. This can’t be good.

Sure enough, Cousins marches over the second he spots us on the steps. “Mr. Royal,” he says coolly.

“Detective,” Reed answers, equally cool.

There’s a tense moment of silence before the detective turns his sharp gaze on me.

“Ella O’Halloran, I presume?”

“Harper,” I bite out.

He actually rolls his eyes, which I find a bit rude. “Well, Ms.
Harper
. You’re actually the first person on my list this morning.”

I scowl at him. “Your list of what?”

“Witnesses.” Cousins looks kind of smug as he smiles at me. “The headmaster is allowing me to conduct interviews in his office this morning. If you’d follow me, please…”

I stay put. Callum already warned me something like this could happen, so I’m prepared for it. “Sorry, but that’s not happening. My guardian needs to be present for any and all interviews.” I smile back, also smug. “So does my lawyer.”

The detective narrows his eyes. “I see. So that’s how we’re going to play it.” He nods curtly. “Then I guess I’ll be in touch with your guardian.”

With that, he brushes past us and disappears through the front doors.

Once he’s gone, my confident façade drops and I instantly look at Reed. “He’s interviewing people today?
Who
?”

“I don’t know,” he says grimly.

“Oh my God, Reed, this is bad. This is really bad.”

“It’ll be fine.” But his tone lacks its usual confidence. “Come on. We should get to class. Text me if you have any problems today, okay?”

“Why would I have any problems?” I ask warily.

His answer is cryptic. “Natives are restless.”

This entire conversation—and Detective Cousins just showing up out of the blue—didn’t do a thing to ease my worries, and I think Reed knows it, but he still puts on a smile and walks me to class as if everything is A-OK. After a quick kiss, he takes off in the other direction. I can’t shake my concern. It falls over me like a heavy blanket, and by the time I walk into my chemistry class and settle in my usual seat next to Easton, despair is leaking out of every pore of my body.

“What’s wrong?” Easton asks immediately.

I lean in to hiss in his ear. “The cops are here to interview people about Reed.”

Easton is unfazed. “Nobody around here even knew about Reed and Brooke,” he whispers back. “The interviews will turn up nothing.”

I peek around to make sure nobody is listening. “But everyone in school knows about his fights.” Another thought occurs to me. “And Savannah knows about the Dinah thing.”

He frowns. “That has nothing to do with Brooke.”

“No, but they might be able to twist it around.” I wring my hands together as my anxiety returns, even worse than before. “If they find out that Dinah was blackmailing Reed’s brother, they might come up with some crazy theory that Reed went to the penthouse looking for
Dinah
and killed Brooke instead.”

It’s a ridiculous thought, but it’s just plausible enough that Easton actually looks worried. “Shit.”

“If they talk to Savannah, do you think she’d say anything?”

He slowly shakes his head. “I…don’t think so?”

That’s not good enough for me. Not in the slightest. “We have English with her next period. I’ll talk to her.”

“And what? Threaten to break her legs if she squeals?” His smile is weak and forced.

“No, but I’ll make sure she knows how important it is not to bring up the Gideon and Dinah thing.”

“Sav hates the Royals,” he says in a tired voice. “I’m not sure anything you say to her is going to convince her to keep her mouth shut.”

“Maybe not, but I’m still going to try.”

A
fter Chem
, I race to the second floor to try to intercept Savannah Montgomery before she reaches our English classroom.

Gideon’s ex-girlfriend is the most contradictory person I’ve ever met. She was the one who gave me a tour of Astor Park Prep when I started here, and although she was kind of bitchy that day, she also offered a lot of unsolicited advice about how to survive this school. And even though she kept her distance and didn’t talk to me much in class, she still took the time to warn me about Daniel Delacorte, and then she helped me and Val get revenge on the creep.

So I guess she’s an ally?

Honestly, I don’t really know. She’s hard to read on a good day, and impossible to read every other day.

Today falls into the unreadable category. She frowns when she sees me loitering outside the door, but she does say “Hey” in a voice that lacks hostility.

“Can we talk for a minute?” I ask quietly.

Suspicion flickers in her eyes. “Why?”

I will up some patience. “Because we need to talk.”

“Class is starting.”

“Mr. Winston is ten minutes late every day and you know it. We have time.” I plead at her with my eyes. “Please?”

After a beat, she nods. “Fine. But make it fast.”

We walk silently down the hall toward a bank of lockers that’s squished into its own little corridor. Once we’re alone, I don’t waste any time.

“The police are here today interviewing some of Reed’s friends and classmates.”

She doesn’t look at all surprised. “Yeah, I know. I already got a summons to Beringer’s office. I’m talking to them at lunch.” She rolls her eyes. “They wanted to pull me out of class and I was, like, fuck that. I’m not falling behind just because some Royal killed his daddy’s girlfriend.”

I flinch as if she’s slapped me. “Reed didn’t kill anyone,” I say between clenched teeth.

Savannah shrugs. “Don’t care if he did. I never liked Brooke.”

I furrow my brow. Did Savannah even know Brooke? I’m confused for a second, until I realize that Sav
did
know her. She referred to Brooke as an “extra” the day she gave me the Astor Park tour, and she’d dated Gideon for a year, so she must have run into Brooke at the house on a bunch of occasions.

“That woman was garbage,” she adds. “Gold-digger with a capital G.”

“Either way, Reed didn’t kill her.”

She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Is that what you want me to tell the cops?”

I swallow my frustration. “You can tell them whatever you like, because he didn’t do it. I wanted to talk to you about the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

I shoot a glance at the main hall. It’s empty. “The Gideon and Dinah thing.”

According to Reed, Dinah broke into Gid’s phone and stole nude pictures that he and Savannah had exchanged. With that ammo, she’s holding a statutory rape charge over his head, because Savannah was only fifteen at the time, while Gideon was eighteen.

At the sound of Gideon’s name, Savannah’s wary expression transforms into one of pure malice. “You mean that thing where my boyfriend screwed a trashy cougar?” she snaps.

“Yeah, and that the trashy cougar is blackmailing him with pictures
you
sent him,” I snap back.

This time it’s her turn to flinch. “Are you saying it’s
my
fault Gid is in this mess? Because it’s not!
He’s
the cheater.
He’s
the one who hooked up with that awful woman, and it’s
his
fault she became obsessed with him and stole his phone. All I did was send pics to my boyfriend, Ella!”

I see myself losing control of the conversation, so I hastily put on a calm, non-threatening tone. “I’m not blaming you at all,” I promise. “All I’m saying is that you’re involved in this whether you want to be or not. Gideon could get in a lot of trouble if the cops find out about Dinah and the pictures.”

Savannah doesn’t answer.

“I know you hate him, but I also know you don’t want to see him go to jail. And telling the detectives about it will only make them try to somehow use that information against Reed.” I glare at her. “And Reed’s innocent.” Or at least I think he is.

She stays quiet for a long time. So long that I don’t think I’ve gotten through to her. But then she lets out a heavy breath and nods.

“Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Relief swamps me, but Savannah doesn’t even give me the chance to thank her. She just walks away without another word.