Twisted Sins: A Dark High School Romance (Twisted Pine Academy Book 2) Page 10

  "He wouldn't care if you lost the card. He'd just cancel it and get a new one."

  "Okay, well, I didn't know that." I put my hand on my hip. "Are we done now?"

  He keeps his eyes on me a moment, then walks past me to the door.

  I follow him, then watch as he turns the button on the inside of the door handle that locks it when you close the door.

  "Why does it have to be locked?" I ask. "It's just a room with movie posters and awards."

  "And money." His eyes go to mine. "Money my so-called cousin seems to be unable to keep her hands off."

  "I wouldn't have to borrow it if I could drive to an ATM. Having money is useless if you don't have access to it."

  "Then let's go." He walks down the hall toward the garage.

  "Go where?"

  "To get money. I'll take you to the ATM. Or the bank. Whatever you want."

  "Now? Don't you want to wait for your dad to get back?"

  "Why? They don't care if we go somewhere."

  I don't want to go out right now. That man might call again, and if he does, I can't answer his call with Trystan there. But I can't tell Trystan that, and coming up with another excuse will just make him more suspicious.

  "Okay, let's go," I tell him.

  "You need to go find your card."

  "Oh. Yeah." I half smile. "I'm not really awake yet."

  All these lies are starting to pile up. I'm losing track of them.

  Back in my room, I take my debit card from my drawer and go find Trystan in the kitchen, downing one of his protein shakes.

  "Found it," I say, holding it up. "It was in my laundry. Must've fell out of a pocket."

  We go out to his car and as he's pulling out of the driveway, I look down the street. There's nobody at Jackson's house. I thought an investigator would be there by now but maybe they'll question Braden first.

  "Why didn't you go with them?" I ask Trystan. "To the lawyer's office?"

  "Because I don't need to."

  "Aren't they going to question you? You found the body."

  "I found her. I didn't do anything to her."

  "What if the new evidence makes it look like you did?"

  He gives me a confused look. "What kind of evidence would that be?"

  "I don't know. It just seems like on those crime shows they always question anyone who knew the victim or was around the person that night."

  "I found her in the morning, not the night she died."

  "And they're sure she died during the night, not the morning?"

  "She died after the party ended, so whenever that was. Why are you asking this shit? You think I killed her?"

  "No, but I think they might question you about it."

  "Yeah? So? I've got nothing to hide."

  "If she WAS killed, who do you think did it?"

  "Anyone at the party could've pushed her over the railing. But the cops don't consider that because those people don't have a motive."

  "But Braden did."

  "Dating her isn't a motive. That's why it's bullshit they even considered he might be involved." Trystan pulls up next to the ATM, rolling his window down. "How much do you want?"

  I hand him my card. "A thousand."

  His brows rise. "Planning on going on a shopping spree?"

  "Really?" I say, displaying the same raised brow. "You spend that much in a weekend."

  "Not always." He puts the card in. "What's your PIN code?"

  "I can't give you that."

  He sighs. "Then punch it in yourself."

  "I can't reach it from here."

  He leans back in the seat. "Hurry up."

  I undo my seatbelt and reach across him out the window to punch in the code, then sit back while he finishes up the transaction. The money spits out and he hands it to me.

  "Eighteen nineteen?" he says, while driving away. "That's the best you could come up with?"

  "You looked when I put in the code?" I shove the money in my pocket.

  "You're supposed to cover the keypad with your hand when you punch it in. You didn't know that?"

  "I didn't think my cousin would be looking," I say, annoyed.

  "It's not just me. The security camera saw it too. Now whoever watches it will know your PIN."

  "Whatever. At least they don't have my card."

  He makes a turn on the next street, heading away from the house.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To get coffee."

  "Just make some at home."

  "I don't make coffee. And I want a latte." He turns into Starbucks and parks. "You want anything?" He smiles. "I'll buy. Consider it a gift for punching Kristen. I would've done it myself if I could."

  "Why? She didn't do anything to you."

  "She treated Braden like shit, and then dumped him for that asshole, Jackson."

  We get out of the car and go inside.

  "Speak of the devil," he says with a laugh.

  "What?"

  He nods toward the line. Kristen is there with her mom. I recognize her mom from the photo Principal Edwards had in his office. She looked better in the photo than she does in person. Her face is pulled tight from a really bad facelift and her lips are abnormally large and puffy from injections.

  Trystan smiles. "This should be fun."

  "I'll go wait in the car."

  "Rumor!" Trystan yells as I turn to leave.

  He yells it so loud the whole place stops and stares, including Kristen and her mom. He did it on purpose. Asshole.

  "Did you want a latte or espresso?" Trystan asks, smiling at me.

  "Neither," I mutter, coming back beside him. "What is wrong with you?" I whisper.

  He takes my arm and forces me into the line behind Kristen.

  "Hey, Kristen," Trystan says. "What are you up to this weekend?"

  She gives him a sarcastic smile. "I'm seeing a surgeon in LA to correct whatever damage was done by your cousin."

  "Rumor?" He yanks me into his side. "She couldn't do any damage. Look at her. She's barely over a hundred pounds."

  "Let me go," I mutter but he ignores me.

  Kristen's mom turns to face us, smiling at Trystan. "The Halliway boy?"

  "Yeah," he says. "I'm Trystan."

  She looks at her daughter. "Did you date them both or just the one?"

  "One, Mother," she says, rolling her eyes. "I dated Braden."

  Her mom shrugs. "It's hard to keep track, given how many boys you've been with."

  Kristen takes a deep breath and stares up at the menu. I'm staring at her mom and all the diamonds she's wearing. Earrings, a necklace, two bracelets, multiple rings. Who wears that much jewelry to get coffee on a Saturday morning?

  "I'm Daphne Reynolds." She extends her hand to me. Her rings look huge on her bony fingers.

  "She's the one who hit me," Kristen says, still staring at the menu.

  "I didn't mean to," I say to her mom. "It'd just been a really long day, and a long week. And my mom just died so—"

  "Your mother died?" Daphne frowns. "Was it an accident?"

  That's an odd question. Normally people just say they're sorry. I don't even know why I mentioned my mom. I guess I was just desperate to find a reason to explain why I punched her daughter.

  "Aneurysm," I say. "She didn't know anything was wrong. It just happened."

  "What a shame." She looks at Trystan. "How is your father?"

  "Good. He's not working right now so he's living at home."

  She smiles. "Maybe we could get together. Mention it to him, will you?"

  "Sure."

  "Mother!" Kristen glares at her. "You're married! You're not going out with Trystan's dad! HER uncle!" She points to me. "You should be yelling at her! She punched me!"

  Daphne leans down to me, and for a moment I think she's actually going to hit me. But instead she says quietly in my ear, "I would've done the same thing."

  "What did you say to her?" Kristen demands.

  Her mom leans over and talks
in her ear.

  Kristen slowly smiles.

  "You're up," Trystan says, pointing to the barista waiting for their order.

  They get their coffee and leave. We remain there for the next ten minutes because Trystan's order takes forever to make. He has to have it exactly how he wants it and they screwed up the first two times and had to remake it.

  "That fucking made my day," Trystan says as we drive home.

  "Running into Kristen made your day? Seriously?" I shake my head.

  "Did you see how she looked at her mom? If she had a gun, I swear she would've shot her." He laughs. "She fucking hates her mom and her mom acts like she doesn't even care. I could watch that shit all day."

  "I heard her mom is crazy. Is that just a rumor or is it true?"

  "Kristen claims her mom spent time in a mental hospital but I don't believe her. Someone would have to force her to go and there's no way she'd let that happen. She might be crazy, but not crazy enough to give up her freedom." He glances at me. "What the hell did she say to you?"

  I smile. "That she would've hit Kristen too."

  "No shit?" He laughs. "Her own mom wants to punch her? That's fucking hilarious."

  "I thought so too but then I felt kind of bad. What if she meant it? Do you think she hits Kristen?"

  "If she does, she probably deserves it."

  "Doesn't make it right."

  "YOU hit her."

  "I'm not her mom. And I didn't plan on hitting her. I just got angry and punched her."

  "Dad hit Braden." Trystan slows down as we approach a red light. "Fucking scared the shit out of me. I've never seen him that pissed."

  "He hit Braden? Why?"

  "I didn't ask. It was the day after I found Andrea. I was out with some friends and when I got home, Dad was yelling at Braden and then he hit him."

  "Hard?"

  "Enough to knock him to the ground. If I hadn't walked in, I think he would've hit him again."

  "But you don't know why he did it?"

  "No, but think about it. Famous actor's son gets charged with murder? The tabloids love that shit. My dad lost a movie role because of that. He won't admit it but I know he blames Braden for why he isn't getting work."

  "He's been in a few things."

  "Guest appearances in TV shows. He hasn't had anything big since this thing with Andrea."

  Trystan turns down our street. Brock's car is back in the driveway. He's home with Braden. I hope he doesn't hit him. I'm sure Brock's furious the case is being looked into again, especially if he thinks it'll keep him from getting acting jobs, but that doesn't make it okay for him to hit Braden.

  "Holy shit." Trystan points down the street. "Guess the evidence points to Novak."

  I look and see two police cars at Jackson's house, along with two other cars.

  My heart pounds hard in my chest, my breaths short and shallow.

  They're there to arrest him. Jackson's going to jail. Charged with murder.

  Chapter Twelve

  Every part of me wants to run down to Jackson's and stop them from taking him away. But I can't.

  Trystan parks and we go inside the house. Braden and Brock are in the living room, talking.

  "Did you see Novak's house?" Trystan says, laughing, even though it's not the least bit funny.

  Braden gets up. "Why? What happened?"

  "Two cop cars are in his driveway." He smiles. "Guess they got their killer."

  "You don't know if he's being arrested," Braden says.

  "They could just be there to interview him," Brock says. He turns to Braden. "Keep your distance from him. You don't want to give him anything he could use against you."

  "Like what?" Braden glances at me. "I didn't do anything."

  Why was he looking at me when he said that? Does he think I assume he's guilty?

  Brock gets up from the couch. "It doesn't matter. You are not to talk to him."

  "I already did," Braden mutters.

  Brock races up to him. "You WHAT?"

  Braden looks up at his dad. "I panicked. The investigator called and said he wanted to talk to me and I didn't know what to do."

  "So you asked Novak?" Brock yells, his face getting red. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

  "I wasn't. I was out all night. I hadn't slept. My knee was fucking killing me. And you wouldn't answer your damn phone!"

  He grips Braden's shoulders. "What did you say to him? Word for word. I need to know."

  "I just told him I got a call from the investigator and told him he'd probably be getting one too. Then I asked him what I should do. "

  "Why would you ask HIM of all people?"

  "Because he knows shit. He knows what to do. He doesn't have parents taking over and dealing with it. He deals with it himself."

  "And? What did he say?"

  "He told me to call you and if I couldn't reach you to call the lawyer I worked with before."

  Brock lets go of Braden. "That's it? That's all that was said?"

  "Yeah. Then I left."

  "I'll be in my office." Brock storms off.

  Trystan plops down on the couch. "What'd the lawyer say?"

  "Not much," Braden says. "He said we need to wait and see what the evidence is and go from there. The cops haven't charged me with anything so there's not really anything to do but wait."

  "The whole thing might be over if Jackson's being arrested."

  I need to find out if that's really happening.

  "I'm going to my room," I say, hurrying off.

  After shutting the door and locking it, I text Jackson. What's going on? Are you okay?

  Minutes slowly tick by as I wait for a response.

  My phone finally dings. Lawyers set the alarm off. Cops arrived before I could shut it off.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and text back, I thought they were arresting you.

  Need to go. Meeting with the lawyers.

  Why is this happening? If the cops already ruled Andrea's death an accident, why are they looking into it again? What evidence would be strong enough for them to reopen the case?

  Brock's voice booms from the other room. "Were either of you in my office? Answer me! Now!"

  Shit. Trystan's going to tell him I was in there.

  I swing open my door and walk out to the living room. "What's with all the yelling? I'm trying to study."

  "Were you in my office?" Brock asks.

  I glance at Trystan. "No. Why?"

  "Something isn't right with my desk. The top drawer has been damaged somehow."

  "Wasn't me," Braden says.

  Trystan's eyes go to mine. "Me either."

  "I've been in my room," I say.

  I wait for Trystan to tell on me. He opens his mouth like he's about to but then doesn't.

  "I've HAD it with her!" Brock yells, breathing through his nose like he does when he's angry. "Maria is fired. I've told her a million times not to go in my office and she not only goes in there, she breaks my desk."

  "She didn't do it," I blurt out.

  "Then who did?" His brows draw together. "Was it you? Were you lying just now?"

  "No. I'm just saying Maria would never do that. She needs this job. She'd never do something to risk losing it."

  "How would you know?" Braden asks. "You just met her."

  "I know she wouldn't do something like that." I look at Brock. "Maybe it broke when you tried to open it. I've had that happen with drawers before."

  "You're saying I did this?"

  I shrug. "I'm saying things break. It could have nothing to do with you. It might have just been a faulty drawer."

  "Was anything missing?" Braden asks.

  "Yes, actually." Brock's eyes dart to me. "A business card."

  "That's it?" Braden says. "Big deal. All that shit's on the web anyway."

  "Exactly, which makes me wonder why someone would take it." He's still looking at me. "Any theories, Rumor?"

  "Why are you asking me? I don't know why someone would take
it. I don't think they did. I'm guessing it fell on the floor or got tossed in the trash."

  "Yes." He smirks. "You're probably right."

  He thinks I did it. That smirk and the intense look he's giving me tells me he knows. So what's he going to do about it?

  "Braden, come with me," Brock says. "We have some things to discuss."

  Braden sighs. "Again? What's left to talk about?"

  "Stop arguing and come down to my office."

  When they're gone I go up to Trystan. "Thanks for not saying anything."

  "You owe me." He smiles. "Or maybe I'll let it go. I'm still loving what you did to Kristen. My whole team was talking about it last night. You're going to have more guys asking you out now."

  "More? I haven't had any ask me out."

  "Seriously? I would've thought by now half of Braden's teammates would've asked you."

  "Nope. Well, Dante kind of did but I turned him down. Nobody else has asked me."

  "Braden probably told them to stay away."

  "Why? He doesn't want me dating his teammates?"

  "Yeah." He laughs.

  "Why are you laughing?"

  "Nothing." He kicks his feet up on the coffee table. "I'm bored. You want to do something?"

  "I need to study."

  "No you don't. Let's go out."

  "I'm serious. I need to study. I have more homework assigned for this weekend than I had in an entire month at my old school."

  He gets up. "Your loss. When you see my dad, tell him I left."

  "Where are you going?"

  "Don't know yet. I just know I don't want to sit around here all day."

  I return to my room and get out my laptop. The last thing I want to do right now is study but if I don't, there's no way I'll get it all done before Monday. I doubt I'll even finish. I've never had this much homework in my life. I don't know how they expect you to be involved in stuff and have a social life with this much homework.

  An hour later I haven't read a single page or started the paper that's due next week. I'm too worried about what might happen to Jackson. And I can't stop thinking about my dad. I looked up the rehab place and found it's somewhere near Palm Springs.

  It had to have been my dad who called, but where was he? Did he ditch rehab and call me from somewhere in the desert where the cell reception was so bad I couldn't hear him?

  Picking up my phone, I search for the number he called from. I call it but nobody picks up.