Twisted Secrets: A Dark High School Romance (Twisted Pine Academy Book 3) Read online

  Twisted Secrets

  Twisted Pine Academy, Book 3

  Kai Juniper

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Twisted Pine Academy, Book 4

  Also from Waltham Publishing

  Twisted Secrets

  By Kai Juniper

  Copyright © 2020 Kai Juniper

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Waltham Publishing, LLC

  Cover Design by Marisa Wesley of Cover Me Darling

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, things, and events are fictitious, and any similarities to real persons (live or dead), things, or events are coincidental and not intended by the author. Brand names of products mentioned in this book are used for reference only and the author acknowledges that any trademarks and product names are the property of their respective owners.

  The author holds exclusive rights to this work and unauthorized duplication is prohibited. No part of this book is to be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  Chapter One

  "Rumor, let's go."

  A hand pulls on my shoulder and when I turn, I see Brock there.

  "They took Jackson!" I say, my heart pounding, my lungs struggling to get air. "They took him!"

  "Yes, I know," Brock says in a low voice as he glances at the neighbors who have gathered along the line of yellow police tape that surrounds Jackson's house.

  "Do you know what happened?" a man says to Brock. He's around Brock's age with a deep tan and black hair that's peppered with gray. I've see him doing yoga on the beach in the mornings but never talked to him.

  "I'm not sure," Brock hurries to say, turning away from the guy. He puts his arm around me and says, "Let's go back to the house."

  I yank away from him and run up to the police officer who's standing on the other side of the yellow tape. "Tell me what's going on! Why'd you take him? Jackson didn't do anything!"

  Brock races up behind me and yanks me back. "What the hell are you doing?" he whispers in my ear. "You want to get arrested?"

  I whip around to face him. "He's my boyfriend. I love him. You think I'm just going to stand here and do nothing?"

  "Excuse me," the officer says as he walks over to us. "Did I hear you say you're the girlfriend?"

  Brock stands up straight, shoulders back, and clears his throat. "They're just friends, officer. We live down the street."

  "I'm not just his—"

  Brock yanks me against his side before I can finish what I was going to say.

  "Please excuse her outburst," Brock says to the officer. "She's just frightened from all the commotion." He squeezes my shoulder. "We'll be going now."

  The officer stares at him. "Wait a minute. Aren't you—"

  "Brock Halliway," Brock says with his celebrity smile.

  The officer doesn't return the smile. "You and your kid came into the station last week. That was you, right?"

  Brock's smile drops and his jaw tightens. He thought the guy recognized him from TV but instead it was because of Braden. "Officer, we need to be going. We'll let you get back to your work."

  "Sir, answer the question. You're the father of the boy we've been investigating?"

  "Yes." Brock tightens his grip on me, urging me to keep quiet. "But that has no relevancy here." He glances down at me. "I need to get her home."

  "Your boy was friends with him," the officer says. "The Novak kid. Is that correct?"

  Brock lets me go and steps up to the officer. "I am not here to answer your questions, nor am I required to do so. If you have questions, you can speak to my lawyer." He turns and walks back to me, grabbing my arm and pulling on me to move. "Hurry up," he whispers.

  The officer looks at me a moment, then walks over to the other police guy, saying something to him as his eyes go back to me.

  "Rumor!" Brock scolds, yanking on my arm.

  I turn and follow him and we make our way through the crowd of neighbors as they talk in hushed voices.

  "I knew that kid was trouble," a man says to his wife.

  "He's the one they think killed that other girl," the wife says. "Now he's done it again. Hope they lock him up this time."

  "He didn't—"

  "Quiet!" Brock whispers, squeezing my arm as he pulls me beside him.

  "You're hurting me," I say, trying to pull my arm free. "Let me go."

  "Not until we're home," he says, walking so fast I can barely keep up.

  When we're at the house, we go inside and he finally lets go of my arm.

  He slams the door. "What the hell were you thinking?"

  "I'm going to my room." I storm off, furious with him for getting angry about this. My boyfriend just got arrested and he expects me to do nothing? Not even ask what happened?

  "Rumor!" Brock races up beside me, yanking me back and leaning down to my face. "Do you want to get arrested? Go to jail? Is that what you want?"

  "No! But I couldn't just stand there and not say anything. They took Jackson! He didn't do anything!"

  "Except kill someone," Braden says, casually strolling up to Brock and me in the living room. He smirks. "Guess they finally got their killer."

  "He didn't kill anyone," I say, glaring at Braden.

  "You're right," he says with a smirk. "It wasn't just anyone. It was Kristen Reynolds, one of the richest people in town. Most popular girl at school."

  "He didn't kill her," I say through gritted teeth.

  "Then who did?" Braden folds his arms over his chest. "And why would they do it there? At Novak's house?"

  "Who the hell knows? But I know he didn't do it."

  "Okay, enough!" Brock says, raising his voice. "Both of you sit down."

  Braden and I glance at each other, neither one of us moving.

  "I said sit down!" Brock yells, his voice booming in the high ceilings. "Right now!"

  Braden and I take a seat on opposite ends of the couch.

  Brock stands across from us, his arms crossed. "I don't want either one of you getting involved in this. That means no asking questions about it. To anyone. And definitely no answering of questions, especially to the authorities."

  "They're not gonna question me," Braden says. "I had nothing to do with it."

  I look at him. "How did you even know about it?"

  "It's already online. When I saw the cops down there I went online and saw that Kristen was dead. They found her behind Novak's house." He smirks. "The shithead wasn't even smart enough to hide the body."

  "Braden!" Brock scolds. "Show some compassion. A girl is dead. A girl you were friends with."

  "I wasn't friends with her." He leans back against the couch, putting his arms up along the back of it. "Kristen was a bitch. I only put up with her because of her dad."

  "Then why were you kissing her at the front door the other night?" I ask.

  Brock's eyes dart to Braden.
"Is that true? Was Kristen here?"

  "Yeah, but she didn't stay." He gets his phone out. "I had to get to practice so she left."

  Brock sighs and drops his head, rubbing his hand over his face. "Fuck."

  "What?" I say, my eyes going between Braden and Brock. Braden's messing with his phone, not noticing his dad's reaction.

  "Braden!" Brock goes over to him, yanking his phone from his hand.

  "What the hell?" Braden reaches for his phone. "Give it back!"

  "Are you not aware of what this means?" Brock yells at him.

  "What?" Braden shrugs. "So she was here. Big deal."

  "A girl shows up dead after being at our house?" Brock yells. "Goddammit, Braden, you can't be that ignorant to not see what this means!"

  Braden stands up. "She was here for like a minute and then she left. For Jackson's house. The guy who killed her." He turns and points at me. "Why aren't you yelling at HER? She was fucking dating him!"

  Brock storms up to Braden. "You're the one they're looking at. For Andrea. And now another girl shows up dead. A girl who was with you just hours before her death. You don't see a problem with that? Because I guarantee the police are putting together a theory right now that involves you getting back with Kristen right before her death."

  "There's no fucking theory," he yells back, "because I wasn't with her last night! She came here Thursday. I went to practice and when I got home she was gone. There's no fucking way they can connect me with this!"

  "Of course they can connect you!" Brock says, tossing Braden's phone across the room. "We live on the same street where she died!"

  "What the fuck!" Braden yells, going to get his phone.

  Brock grabs Braden's shirt and yanks him in front of him. "Forget the damn phone and listen to me!"

  Braden stands there, glaring at his dad. "I DIDN'T do it."

  "I know that and you know that, but the police don't. And they won't bother checking the facts. It would be far easier for them to accuse you of both girls' deaths than to deal with another investigation involving someone new."

  Braden shoves away from his dad. "They don't have to. They already have their killer! They have Jackson! It was his fucking house! They can charge HIM with the murders, close both cases, and be done."

  "They're not going to do that," Brock says, lowering his voice. "You know that, Braden."

  Braden looks at his dad, then at me. "Get out!"

  "No. I want to hear this." I get up from the couch and turn to Brock. "What do you mean? Are you saying they're going to let Jackson go?"

  Trystan walks in. "What's going on? Did they arrest Jackson?"

  "Yeah," Braden says. "He's a fucking killer, just like we thought."

  "He's not a killer," I say.

  "Did they take him away?" Trystan asks.

  "Yes," Brock says with a sigh. "Trystan you don't need to be involved in this. Go to your room."

  "I'm not leaving. And I'm already involved. The lawyer just called and said the cops want to ask me about Andrea."

  Brock's eyes shoot to Trystan. "Did they say why?"

  "They want to know if I found anything on the beach that morning. Anything that might've been Andrea's."

  "Like what?" Braden says.

  He shrugs. "Jewelry. Keys. Shit that might've fallen off her when she went over the railing."

  "They already searched the beach," Braden says. "There was nothing there."

  "Trystan, I'll talk with the lawyers. You're not required to tell the police anything more about that night." Brock rubs his jaw. "Braden, when did you see her last?"

  "Who?" Braden asks.

  "Kristen!"

  "I just told you. Thursday night. Before practice. And that was it. I swear. I told her to wait in my room but she left."

  "She didn't leave," I say. "She went up to your room. She was in there a few minutes before she was gone."

  "Did you check your room?" Brock asks Braden.

  "For what?"

  "To see if she left anything in there. Or took something."

  "She didn't take anything. It looked the same as when I left."

  "Were you two getting back together?" Brock asks.

  Braden pauses. "I don't know. Maybe."

  Brock turns and walks to the windows, looking out at the ocean, his back to us. "When did this start? You and Kristen?"

  "Thursday." Braden slouches down in the chair next to the couch, kicking his feet up on the table. "She called me and asked me to come get her."

  "Did she say why?"

  "She said she didn't want to be home. She was probably fighting with her mom."

  "Then what?" Brock turns back to us, his eyes on Braden. "You went and picked her up?"

  "Not at first. I told her to call Novak."

  "And did she?" Brock asks.

  "No. She said they were over. She said he made her give him his key back."

  "She still had a key," I say.

  Brock's eyes move over to me. "How do you know she had a key?"

  "Because she kept going over there. She'd go there when Jackson wasn't home. She'd let herself in."

  "And you know for a fact she was no longer seeing Novak?"

  "Yes. They were just friends. He stopped seeing her once he was with me."

  Braden laughs. "You're so fucking stupid."

  I bolt up. "I'M stupid? You're the one who believed Kristen wanted you back!"

  "Because she DID!" He jumps up, staring back at me. "She practically fucked me in the car!"

  "She was using you. Distracting you with sex to get what she wanted. And look!" I throw up my hands. "It worked! You went and picked her up. Let her go in your room. If anyone's stupid, it's you."

  "Okay, both of you, stop it right now!" Brock shouts.

  Braden storms over to him. "Why the fuck are you questioning ME when Rumor's the one dating the guy who got arrested! Ask HER the fucking questions! She probably helped him! She hated Kristen!"

  "Seriously?" I huff. "You think I killed her? I think the person who's already been accused of murder should be the suspect here."

  "Rumor, enough!" Brock yells. He inhales a breath through his nose and lets it out. "Braden, did you see Kristen at any time after you dropped her off here?"

  "No. Like I said, I told her to wait for me but she left."

  "Did either of you see her?" Brock asks Trystan and me.

  "I didn't," Trystan says.

  "I saw her go up the stairs," I say. "And I heard her in Braden's room, but when Trystan and I went in there, she was gone."

  "What about Jackson?" Brock asks me. "Did you hear from him last night?"

  I pause before answering, thinking I should lie, but they already know we're dating so I might as well tell them.

  "We went out," I say. "After the game. We drove down to San Diego and had dinner. Jackson wanted to stay out later but I wanted to get home. I knew Miles and Kade would tell everyone I was dating Jackson and I wanted to get home and deal with whatever was going to happen."

  "I'll tell you what's gonna happen," Braden says, racing up to me. "You're gonna dump Novak and never speak to him again!"

  "Braden, stay out of this," Brock says, coming over and yanking him away from me. "Leave her alone."

  Braden shoves him. "Why the fuck aren't you punishing her for this? He's the fucking enemy! And a murderer!"

  "He didn't kill her!" I yell. "Stop saying that!"

  Brock gets in front of Braden, his eyes narrowed. "What did I say?"

  Braden looks down, shaking his head, his jaw moving side to side.

  "WHAT did I say, Braden?" Brock asks.

  He still doesn't answer.

  Brock grabs Braden's shirt in his fist and yanks on it, pulling Braden up to just inches from Brock's face. "Repeat back to me what I said earlier."

  "Dad, let him go," Trystan says, sounding panicked. He thinks Brock is going to hit Braden like he did after Andrea's death.

  Brock ignores Trystan, his eyes zeroed in on Braden.
"Tell me what I said."

  Braden swallows. "That I'd have to go live with Mom."

  "If you what?"

  "If I do anything to Novak," Braden says, looking away.

  Brock slowly lets him go, a smirk crossing his face. "Good boy."

  Braden yanks his shirt down, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, looking at his dad like he's about to kill him. If he had a gun nearby, he probably would.

  "I'm going to my room." Braden turns to leave.

  "We're not done here," Brock says.

  Braden turns back to his dad, nostrils flared, his hands balled into fists. "What the fuck do you want from me? I didn't fucking do it!"

  "Regardless," Brock says in a calm, even voice. "We need to prepare. There will obviously be an investigation, and since the three of you knew both the suspect and the victim, we need to prepare for what's ahead."

  "Just get your lawyers to deal with it," Trystan says.

  "The lawyers can't be with you every second of the day. When you're at school. Out with friends. You need to keep your mouths shut. You don't answer questions. You don't bring it up. You keep quiet. Understood?"

  Trystan and I nod, while Braden just stands there, his arms crossed.

  "Braden," Brock says. "Do you understand?"

  "Yeah. Whatever." Braden glances at me. "But why does she get to keep going out with Novak? You want us to distance ourselves from all the Kristen shit, why are you letting her date the guy who killed her? The cops are gonna be all over that. Questioning her and then us."

  "You let me worry about that," Brock says.

  The doorbell rings. We all freeze, our eyes going between each other.

  "Keep quiet," Brock says. "And don't leave this room."

  The door rings again and Brock hurries to answer it.

  It's the cops. I know it is. I can feel it. But why are they here? Is it because of me? Do they think I'm somehow involved in this?