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And rattling off something to my parents that I can’t make out over the whipping wind.
What the hell is happening?
I rush into the middle, spewing questions. “I’m sorry, who are you? What’s this regarding?”
They keep reciting things to my father, but they’re manhandling my mother too. And the gray world spins and shakes. Topples to an upside-down blur. Rex holds me back, which is when I realize I’ve been pawing at these men, attempting to garner answers.
My father shouts to me, “Call my lawyers, Celeste. And meet us there.”
“Where?” I ask.
Finally, one of the men turns to respond, handing me a card. “FBI field office.”
The sleet blows toward us in a pointed and accusatory manner, drenching my styled hair, my violet jumpsuit, my favorite peacoat, and the picture-perfect makeup my mother feared would smear.
But I pay it all no mind, wrenching my shoulders back with the stoic air I’ve been trained to showcase while attempting to keep myself from retching. “FBI? What are they being charged with?”
He shakes his head as though I’m foolish for inquiring. “It’s a lengthy list, but you can inform your lawyer that at the top of the pile is conspiracy to commit murder.”
I look past him and yell to my parents, “I’ll be there,” as my mother’s regretful brown eyes find mine.
When I hustle back to Doug with Rex by my side, that FBI agent’s voice rings out through the frigid gale. “Hey, Miss Carver.” He pauses until I twist to see him. “You can also let your lawyer know that the key to cutting a deal is you. Show up ready to answer questions, or your parents can kiss their freedom goodbye.”
LIAM
I’m splattered in blood, painted like a goddamn warrior, when Gage’s voice roars through the room, ricocheting off the dank walls.
“They’re here.”
Sooner than expected.
Fuck.
A quick scan of the mess we’ve made reveals the truth. It certainly isn’t fucking pretty. We may have been a bit overzealous.
I whip out my Zippo. Resigned.
Snick. Flick. Flame.
“It’s fine. I can spin it.”
CELESTE
My father’s lawyers will be meeting us at the FBI field office, and Doug is driving like a man possessed. To my knowledge, my father has never been arrested or questioned. And my mother? What the hell has she done, other than make a better life for herself after a terribly difficult and depressing childhood?
But the question that is stirring in my gut, the one that has Rex rubbing my back as I dry-heave in this godforsaken limo is, What do they want from me?
I used Rex’s phone to call everyone. Liam, Ivy, Wells, Ty, Gage. No one is answering. I don’t have any idea how to approach this, but I won’t abandon my parents there. If it were only my father, I’d consider waiting it out until I could track Liam down. But my mom? She cannot be in jail. She may have grown up in a rough environment, but that was decades ago. She’d be eaten alive in there.
“Cee, you do not say a word until the lawyers get there and instruct you,” Rex advises. “Do you hear me?”
“Where the hell could they be?” I ask, blatantly blowing past his warning. “Do you think something happened? Something bad? Is that why Liam didn’t tell me anything?”
“I don’t know.” His voice betrays more irritation than Rex typically exhibits. He’s a pro at holding his tongue and masking his disapproval—a trait my father requires in his men. “The only information I got was a text informing me that they were leaving and I was to stay with you.”
The tears, the panic, the overwhelm—the untethered breakdown—swarm me. “I can’t breathe, Rex. I can’t fucking breathe.”
How much can one person take?
