Twisted Truths (Twisted Pine Academy Book 4) Page 2

  I look at Jackson for any signs of what to do but he's not giving me any. He wants me to decide.

  "My dad," I say, deciding to tell the truth. "I haven't heard from him and I thought he might be at a homeless shelter."

  "Why would he be at a homeless shelter?"

  "I think he's using again, which means he doesn't have money. He gave up his apartment in LA so I'm guessing he's either living on the streets or in a shelter."

  "We're talking about Devon Halliway, correct?"

  "Yes. I looked for him but couldn't find him."

  "But you found his phone." She points to it.

  "Yeah. He left it behind."

  "And the video was the only thing on it?"

  "That, and a picture of my mom and me."

  I still can't figure out why he carried around that picture. Was it because of my mom? Was that the only photo he had of her? Or was it because he felt like we really were his family? Like I was his daughter?"

  "Where do you think he is?" Jillian asks. "Do you have any idea?"

  "No," I say, putting the phone in my pocket. "He took off. I'll probably never find him."

  "If you do," she says, "the confession you claim is on that video would be valid."

  "It would?" I ask, sounding skeptical. "How?"

  "If your father took that video, he was a witness. He could testify against Braden in court. Do you think he'd be willing to do that?"

  "I don't know. I'd have to find him first to even ask."

  "But if she found him, he'd get in trouble," Jackson says, coming up beside me. "For taping someone without their consent. Isn't that what you said?"

  "He could be charged, but only if the people on the video choose to press charges. Do they know about this?"

  "No," I say. "And if I keep it, and you never saw it, then it doesn't really exist, right?"

  "As of now, I have no knowledge of what's on that phone, other than what you told me. But that could be entirely made up."

  I nod, realizing she's trying to help me. I thought she didn't like me but maybe she does. Maybe she actually believes I had nothing to do with what happened to Kristen and is trying to help me from getting involved in something else that could get me in trouble.

  "We're going to leave now," I say, walking to the door. "Sorry we bothered you."

  Jillian comes up beside me and opens the door. "If I were you, I'd continue to search for him. He might be the missing link we've been looking for." She motions me to follow her. "I'll walk you out."

  We go through the office, cops staring at us. They know who we are because of Kristen's case. I'm sure at least half of the people watching us walk by think Jackson and I should be locked up. But I'm not sure Jillian thinks that. I used to think she did, but I don't now.

  When we're out of the police station and driving away, I take a deep breath. I felt like I couldn't breathe in there.

  "I can't fucking believe this," Jackson says, shaking his head. "We have video of the fucker admitting what he did and the cops won't even look at it."

  "Because they can't use it. I'm sure they're just as frustrated as we are that some stupid law won't let them use evidence that could solve the case."

  "You're on THEIR side now?" Jackson says, sounding angry.

  "No! I'm just saying it's got to be frustrating to have the evidence right there and not be able to use it." I turn to him. "Why are you getting mad at ME about this?"

  "I'm not," he says with a sigh. "I'm just pissed he gets away with it. Now that I know he did it, I want him to pay."

  "I do too but what are we supposed to do? Brock's the only other person who knows the truth but he's never going to tell the police."

  "Devon knows the truth."

  "Yeah, but I can't find him."

  "If you did, do you think he would testify?"

  "No." I pause. "I think my dad—I mean Devon—has done other stuff that could get him in trouble. Stuff he doesn't want the police finding out about."

  "Like what?"

  "You heard him on the video. Brock told him to go deal with Andrea and Devon refused. He said he's done cleaning up Brock's messes. I don't know what he meant but I'm guessing it was something bad." I stare out the window, trying not to imagine what those bad things might be.

  "She wasn't dead," Jackson says in a quiet voice.

  "What are you talking about?"

  He glances at me. "Braden said Andrea wasn't dead. He said she was still moving."

  "She must've died later from whatever injuries she had."

  "Or someone went back there and finished her off."

  "And risk getting caught? Nobody would do that."

  "They wouldn't have been seen if they stayed on the beach. They could've snuck behind one of the houses and walked on the beach until they got to Andrea. Nobody would ever know. It was dark, and nobody walks the beach that late."

  "Who are you talking about? Devon? You think he went back and killed her?"

  "I don't know. I'm just saying, if she wasn't dead from her injuries, it's possible someone went back to make sure she didn't survive. They didn't want her telling the police what really happened."

  I shudder. "Devon wouldn't do something that horrible. He may not have been the best dad but he's not a killer."

  "How do you know? You've been with him, what—a few weeks over your entire life?"

  "Yeah, but I talked to him. He'd call every couple weeks when I was younger."

  Jackson turns down our street. "I'm not saying he did it, but if she really wasn't dead, like Braden said, then someone went back there that night. And if it wasn't Braden, it was—"

  "Brock," I say, seeing him come out of the house. He stands by the door, his hands on his hips as we pull in the driveway. "He's going to yell at me for not telling him where I was."

  "You want to leave? We can go to my place."

  "No. I don't want him getting suspicious. I need to act normal and pretend I don't know anything."

  "I don't want you living here," Jackson says, his eyes on Brock. "We know Braden's a killer and Brock may be too."

  "They don't scare me. They're not going to do anything to me."

  "I still don't want you around them. Just go inside and get your stuff. I'll wait here."

  Brock comes up to me as I'm getting out. "I need to talk to you." He nods toward Jackson. "Both of you."

  "Why?" I ask. "What's going on?"

  Brock leans down to the window to talk to Jackson. "Jackson, could you come out here?"

  Jackson shuts the car off and gets out, coming around to stand beside me.

  "What is it?" he asks.

  "Your father and I spoke earlier and decided it would be best if you two spent some time apart."

  "My father doesn't get to decide that," Jackson says, his jaw tightening. "He made me an adult. He doesn't get to make decisions for me."

  "This advice came from your lawyer," Brock says. "And mine. They've advised you two not to see each other until things settle down."

  "Settle down?" I say. "What exactly does that mean?"

  "It means we wait until the police have gathered all their evidence. They're still taking things from Jackson's house, and from his property. Having them drive by and see you two together just strengthens their case against you."

  "There's no case. We didn't do anything."

  "But they think you did. The evidence shows there were two people involved and right now those two people are you and Jackson."

  "There really were two people?" Jackson asks. "They've confirmed that?"

  "Just now," Brock says. "You probably have a message from your lawyer on your phone."

  "What evidence do they have?" I ask. "Did they say?"

  "There were marks on her legs where someone held her down. The marks are small, like someone with small hands did it." He looks down at my hands.

  "Why are you looking at ME?" I ask. "You think I did it?"

  "No, of course not. A lot of girls your age have small hands, but given you're a suspect, this isn't helping your case."

  "Can't they take samples?" Jackson asks. "The person must've left something behind. Skin cells. DNA. Strands of hair."

  "I'm sure that's true but they haven't told us that yet." Brock looks at me. "We need to go inside. The neighbors are staring and I don't want them taking photos and sending them to the tabloids."

  I turn to Jackson. "I'll call you later."

  He leans down and kisses me. "Bye."

  Brock and I go inside. Maria walks by and pretends not to notice us. She always at least smiles at me but today she didn't. Does she think I'm guilty? Is she going to tell Shelby not to be friends with me because of this?

  "Is Braden home?" I ask Brock as we walk to the kitchen.

  "He's at the gym. Then he's going to school to practice with the team."

  "Why is he practicing when he can't play?" I ask, knowing why but wanting to see how Brock will answer.

  "There's a good chance he'll be back on the team by the end of the week." Brock opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of sparkling water.

  "I thought he couldn't play during the investigation."

  "The parents are demanding he be allowed to play." He takes a sip of his water. "They've started a petition."

  "They don't care that he—" I stop before I say it.

  "That he WHAT?" Brock asks, coming in front of me.

  "Nothing." I go around him to the fridge. "Am I on my own for dinner or did Ana make something?"

  "She's upstairs. She'll be down soon to make dinner."

  "Why is she upstairs?" I ask, seeing if he'll admit to their relationship.

  "She wasn't feeling well. She asked if she could lay down for a few minutes." He goes over to the table. "Come sit down. We need
to talk."

  "I thought we already did," I say, sitting across from him.

  He sets his water down. "Where were you today?"

  "Jackson and I went to get something to eat."

  "And yet you're asking about dinner." He pauses, his eyes on mine. "Try again."

  "We just went out. Why do you care?"

  "I care because people are watching us. You. Me. Jackson. Braden. I'm not just talking about the police, but the paparazzi. They've heard about the case and they're in town, hoping to get photos of us. If one of those photos shows you doing something you shouldn't, it'll get back to the police and could land you in jail."

  "What would I be doing that could get me in trouble?"

  "At this point, anything you do could be considered suspicious, especially meeting someone in an empty parking lot."

  "What parking lot?" I ask, my heart pounding.

  Brock unlocks his phone and shows it to me. On the screen is a photo of Jackson and me talking to Mick in the parking lot.

  Who took that picture? There was nobody else there.

  Chapter Three

  "Where'd you get that?" I ask.

  "From a photographer. He was going to sell it to the paper but I offered to buy it before he did." Brock points to the photo. "You know what this cost me?"

  I shrug. "I don't know."

  "Ten thousand. And that was cheap. The next time this happens it'll be more." He takes his phone back. "If you continue to see Jackson, and go places with him, more of these photos will surface. The papers will make up stories about you two. They'll convince the public you're guilty, and when it comes time for you to appear before a jury, the lawyers will use those photos to convince jury members of your guilt. That's why I'm insisting you stop seeing him."

  "We'll just be more careful. We didn't know people were watching us."

  "You never know. They hide in the trees. In cars. In a crowd. You won't know they're watching you. Trust me on this. I've been in the public eye long enough to know how this works. I saved Miranda from this type of scrutiny and I can do the same for you, but only if you cooperate."

  "Miranda? You mean when you were married?"

  "I'm referring to when she had the accident. She needed to lay low until the public forgot about her. Instead she went out and got drunk, rambling on about how sorry she was, and of course, there was a man capturing it all on his phone."

  "So what happened?"

  "I bought the damn phone and made him sign an agreement to keep quiet. Cost me a hundred thousand."

  "Didn't Miranda pay you back?"

  "She did, but that's not the point. What I'm getting at here is that you can't trust you're alone. There are always people watching. Listening in. Recording what you say."

  I immediately think of that video of Braden telling Brock about Andrea. If Brock knew that video existed, he'd do anything to get it back. Is that why Devon held onto it? To use it to blackmail Brock? Get money from him?

  "Isn't that illegal?" I ask. "Recording someone without their permission?"

  Brock eyes me, suspiciously. "How did you know that?"

  "I heard it on TV. On one of those court shows."

  He stares at me a moment, then says, "What were you doing there?"

  "Where?"

  "At that parking lot. What were you doing there?"

  My heart pounds as I try to come up with a reason.

  "My phone," I blurt out. "I couldn't get it to work. Jackson knows this guy at school who can fix phones for really cheap so we met him and he fixed it."

  "Why there? Why an empty parking lot?"

  "Because like you said, we didn't want anyone seeing us."

  "Why would you have some high school kid fix your phone? Why didn't you just take it back to the store where you bought it?"

  "It was cheaper to go to this guy."

  "You have plenty of money. I just put another three thousand in your account, and when I checked, it looked like you'd barely spent what was already in there."

  "What can I say? My mom taught me to be careful with money."

  His brows rise. "Your mother didn't spend money?"

  "She did, but only for the essentials. Food. Rent. Utilities. She'd buy me clothes and whatever else I needed, but almost never bought anything for herself."

  "Then what did she do with her money?"

  "I don't think she had much. It's not like she was a famous artist. She had her stuff in a gallery but I don't know how much she actually sold." I check the time on my phone. "Can I go now? I need to do homework."

  "Do we have an agreement? Will you stay away from Jackson?"

  "I won't go out in public with him but I'm not going to stop seeing him. If I have to, I'll sneak in the back of his house so nobody will see me."

  "You're hurting your case by doing this. You could end up spending your life in jail. Is Jackson worth going to jail for?"

  "Is Braden?"

  "I'm not sure what you mean."

  "Braden's your kid and you love him. If he got in trouble, would you stand by him, even if it meant you might end up in trouble? Maybe even go to jail?"

  Brock pauses to consider it. "No. I wouldn't. Braden's an adult, or nearly an adult. He knows right from wrong. If he makes a decision that would land him in jail, he needs to pay the price. I'm not taking the punishment for him."

  "But you'd cover it up if you could. You wouldn't let him go to jail if you could avoid it."

  Brock's eyes narrow. "Why are you asking me this?"

  "I'm trying to explain to you why I'm still with Jackson. I love him and wouldn't leave him, even if staying with him makes me look guilty."

  "Because you're young, and naive. You think the world will reward you for sticking by him but it won't. You'll end up spending your life in prison for something you didn't do. You'll never see Jackson again. Is that really what you want?"

  "It's not going to happen. We're going to find out who did this."

  He chuckles. "Oh, to be young and hopeful again."

  "Are we done here?" I ask, annoyed.

  Brock leans across the table, grabbing my arm and yanking me toward him. "You weren't getting your phone fixed. And I know you and Trystan took a little a road trip last weekend. I don't know what you're up to but if it's playing detective, I'd advise you to stop. I said I'd protect you, but only if you protect our family. You go against us? We'll go against you. If you think you can turn Trystan against his own brother, you're wrong. Trystan knows better than to trust a girl he just met. He's loyal to his brother and he—"

  "I didn't do anything to Trystan," I say, trying to free my arm.

  Brock holds on tighter, to the point that it hurts. "I've worked too hard to get where I'm at. I'm not going to sit here and watch as you attempt to ruin all that I've done. All that I've worked for."

  "What are you talking about? I'm not trying to ruin anything."

  "Brock?" Ana walks in, her eyes going to Brock's hand clenching my arm. "Is everything okay?"

  "Everything's fine." He looks over and smiles at her as he slowly lets go of my arm. "Are you feeling better?"

  "Yes," she says, but she doesn't sound better. Her voice is weak and she looks really tired. "What would you like for dinner?"

  He gets up and walks over to her. "Grilled salmon and vegetables." He turns back to me. "Rumor, what would you like?"

  "I'm not hungry," I say, getting up.

  "What about Trystan and Braden?" Ana asks. "Do you know what they'd like?"

  "They won't be joining us. Braden will be at the school tonight and Trystan is going to the gym." Brock smooths her hair, smiling at her. "I guess it'll just be us, assuming you'll join me."

  She looks down, trying to hide her smile. "I guess I could."

  "Excellent. I'll be in my office. Let me know when it's ready."

  As he leaves, she lets her smile break free as she practically skips to the stove.

  "Are you guys dating now?" I ask as I go to my drawer of junk food.

  "No," she says with a nervous laugh. "I mean, I don't think we are. We're just friends."

  "But you want more." I take a candy bar from the drawer and a bag of chips.

  She doesn't answer me as she grabs a cutting board and knife, then the broccoli from the fridge.

  "Do you?" I ask, following her to the sink where she's rinsing the broccoli. "Want more?"

  She shakes the water from the broccoli. "I told you, we're just friends."

  "Friends who sleep over."

  She turns to me. "How do you know that?"