WALKING up to the backside of Cade’s house, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. The air is suffocatingly thick with trauma and resentment as I look at the house I lived in the years after I lost my family.
It wasn’t always bad here. In fact, the first year was surprisingly good. Uncle Austin and Aunt Marta did everything they could to make me feel welcome. But even sweet fruit rots after a while.
Looking back, it’s almost as if I can pinpoint the exact day their perspective of me shifted. I was no longer a family member, but their ticket to a multi-million-dollar trust fund. Or maybe it was always that way, and they just put on a show in the beginning. It was a damn good show too.
My second year here is when the verbal abuse began. I was belittled and, many times, forced to eat in my room instead of at the dinner table.
My third year is when things got physical. A slap here, a punch there. My last day here, I’m pretty sure I told my uncle I hated him before he knocked me out cold. I barely remember the details. All I know is, the next day, I fled the house. A week later, a social worker came to school and I was put in foster care with a horrible man—even worse than Uncle Austin.
“You good?” Ridge asks, noticing my reluctance as we approach the house.
“Fucking golden,” I tell him.
The truth is, I am fine. I’ve lived through some shit, but I survived it. I’m still here. It’s those sorry bastards who aren’t. Austin and Cade got what they deserved. Had they not been taken out, they would have found another way to hurt me and take everything my family left to me.
With the camera in sight, Ridge and I press our backs to the side of the house so we’re out of view. Once we’re at the back door, I kick up the mat in front of it and retrieve the spare key that’s been there since I was, like, six years old, long before I even lived here.
I stick it into the key slot and a second later, the door is open. We walk inside and the scent hits me like a tornado. The smell of leather and money, not that they have much. Austin and Marta pretty much live off The Society. Being a member does have its perks, but I have yet to decide if they’re worth it or not.
If my memory serves me correctly, the only cameras are out front and the one we just slipped passed out back. There’s no indoor security, so we’re good there.
Ridge drops the heavy box he’s been carrying to the floor and it lands with a thunderous clap. “Fuck, that thing is heavy.”
“I’m not surprised. After all, it holds everything you’ve collected over the past year on your precious angel.” There’s a bite of sarcasm in my tone, but I’m actually glad Ridge was so obsessed with Riley. It’s about to come in handy.
“Pick it back up. We gotta make this quick.” I walk through the kitchen, taking a left down the hall to Cade’s bedroom. I push open the door and step aside. “Put it all in his closet. Make it a shrine that shows his sick obsession.”
“Hey,” Ridge barks. “It’s not an obsession. It’s love.”
“What-the-fuck-ever.” I roll my eyes. “Just make it look like the guy would kill for her.”
“With everything in here, it most definitely will. After all, I did.”
Once he’s in Cade’s room, I go across the hall to Austin and Marta’s room. I remember a week after I lived here, I walked by this room and saw Austin in his closet, kneeling over an open tote-box full of papers and shit. As soon as he caught sight of me, he quickly threw the lid on it like he was hiding something. Then he jabbed a finger in the air and shouted for me to get the fuck out. So I did.
I approach the closed closet and, with a jerk, I pull it open. Reaching up, I grab the pull string to turn on the light, immediately spotting the same tote from that day. Surrounding it are scattered clothes, shoes, and basically a mess of random shit cluttering the area.
I crouch down and sweep away some of the mess before lifting the lid on the tote. At first glance, it’s nothing of use, just more clothes. But when I pull out the worn sweatshirt, I see a stack of papers, some old pictures, and a manila folder labeled Confidential. Naturally, I go for that first.
Undoing the clasp on the folder, I flip the lip and pull out all the papers inside. It looks like some sort of report for The Society with The Blue Bloods emblem on top. My eyes scan the first page quickly, but I stop when I see the names Rebecca and Donald Pemberley. That’s my parents.
This isn’t just a report, it’s a witness statement from Stanley Crane on the day my family was murdered.
My heart is hammering in my chest as I quickly shuffle through a couple more pages and see a signature at the bottom, and there it is. Maddox’s dad’s signature—Stanley Crane.
“What the actual fuck,” I mumble.
I go back to the first page and begin reading.
Detective: State your name for the record.
Witness #3: Stanley Crane
Detective: Mr. Crane, please tell me in detail what you saw that night.
Witness #3: Well, I was walking my dog down Briar Lane when I noticed the front door was cracked open. It was unusual for Donald and Becca to leave their door open, especially at that time of the night. So I whistled for Sammy to follow me up just so I could holler inside and make sure everything was okay. That’s when I saw their son standing frozen in the entryway with blood on his hands.
What? No. I don’t remember that. Then again, I don’t remember much of anything from that day. I keep reading, hoping something jogs my memory.
Detective: Do you know their son’s name?
Witness #3: Of course. It’s Lev Pemberley. I’ve known the boy his whole life.
Detective: And what happened next?
Witness #3: I approached Lev, but he was too shocked to speak. He just stood there, staring straight through me with his bloody hands held out in front of him.
Detective: Was he holding any weapons?
Witness #3: Not that I could see.
Detective: It’s my understanding that the blood of one of the victims was found on your shoes, is this true?
Witness #3: Yes, sir.
Detective: And how did it get there?
Witness #3: It must have dripped off Lev’s hands.
Detective: And a footprint of that same shoe was found in the bedroom of Alana Pemberley?
I gasp at the sight of her name. God, I miss you, Alana.
Witness #3: Is that a question?
Detective: It is. Please answer it. Was your footprint of that same shoe found in the bedroom of Alana Pemberley?
Witness #3: That’s what I hear.
Detective: And how do you explain that?
Witness #3: I suppose it’s possible that I went in there at some point during the chaos. I can’t really say. I, too, was in shock by what happened.
Detective: Thank you for your time, Mr. Crane. We ask that you stick around town in case we have any further questions.
I stop reading there, although there are many more pages of statements from other witnesses.
I don’t remember any of this. My eyes close as I try to go back to that day, but my mind won’t allow it. I’ve repressed it so much that I don’t think I could remember, no matter how hard I try. I don’t think I want to either.
“All done.” Ridge’s voice comes from behind me.
“Get Maddox on the phone. Now.” I slam the papers back into the tote. “Son of a bitch!”
“Sure. Okay.” A second later, I hear him say, “Hey. Lev wants to talk.” Then he hands me the phone.
I snatch it from Ridge’s hand, my mind in a whirlwind. “The night of the dance…that night…who all was at my house when you walked there after the dance?”
“Shit, man. I can hardly remember. Um, aside from the police and ambulance, all I remember seeing is your neighbor, who put a blanket over you on the steps.”
“Then you called your dad, and he and your mom came and picked you and Ridge up, right?” I ask with panic flooding my veins.
“Yeah. Yeah, I definitely remember that.”
“Did your dad act shocked in any way when you told him what happened?”
“Pretty sure it was my mom I talked to when I called, but yeah, they were both beside themselves. Everyone was shocked. Where’s all this coming from?”
I reach back into the tote and pull out the entire stack of papers, then I stand to face Ridge. “I think whatever your dad is hiding is somehow connected to that night.” I shuffle through the papers and pull out the witness statement from Maddox’s dad, then I hand them to Ridge.
“No shit?” Maddox sighs. “I thought for sure whatever he was hiding had to do with Governor Saint.”
“I would put money on the fact that he was involved with my parents’ death somehow and Governor Saint was protecting whatever he did,” I tell him. “And if I find out it really did…” As I grip the phone, my hand trembles because I know, in my bones, whatever we are about to find is going to change everything.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Maddox says. “At this point, I’m starting to believe he’s just as bad as the rest of them. Finish up there, then hurry up and get back here so we can figure this shit out.”
“We’re done here. We’re on our way.” I end the call and gesture Ridge toward the door while I grab the whole damn tote. He walks as he reads with his mouth hung open. I’m ready to get the fuck out of this house. It holds so many of my nightmares but could never touch the worst one. I can feel my heart racing in my chest, my knuckles white from how hard I’m gripping the tote in my hands, knowing they hold the answers to the questions I’ve been drowning in for the past few years.
