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“What!” Emmett snaps.
“They said you’ve gone off the deep end since your father died. The Hendersons offered to take them in to get them away from you,” Williams explains frankly.
“No…no…” Emmett massages the bridge of his nose in confusion. “You saw them!? You talked to them yourself, in person?”
“Of course,” he confirms, sounding too chipper. “They looked perfectly fine. Said they were there of their own free will. They’re really worried about you, though. Malcolm says you’ve been having some…girlfriend troubles? He mentioned that hasn’t been helping things too much.”
Emmett looks at me with wide eyes, and I look just as shocked. I’ve been to Malcolm’s house twice now, and it never occurred to me that Bernadette and their mom could both be there—much less of their own free will. To make everything worse, they’re inexplicably trying to pin all of this on Emmett, to make it look like they were escaping some kind of psychotic break down of his.
“I’m fine, Detective Williams,” Emmett murmurs despondently. “Thank you for all of your help.”
“You at home, son?” Williams asks suddenly. “Can I send someone over to check on you?”
Emmett ends the call without answering and looks at me with distant, lost eyes. With a breath of disbelief, he drops to the chair behind him. The phone thumps to the floor from his listless hand.
“I can’t believe they’d do that,” I say softly, not knowing what else to say. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” he answers dryly. “We have to go to the Hendersons’.”
“What? Emmett…no!” I protest, flying to my feet. “Out of the question. It’s dangerous!”
“They’re doing this for a reason,” he explains. “And if they wanted to kill me, they would have done it by now. They’re trying to fuck with me.”
“But why would your own family do such a thing?” I cry, not wanting to believe it. “You’ve been worried sick about Bernadette this whole time. And your mom…she knew all along and didn’t try to tell you things were okay? She played into your worrying! She made it seem like she was afraid, too!”
“Welcome to the Jameson family.” He smirks sarcastically, swallowing hard as his eyes gloss over. “Let’s go see what they want. They’re waiting for us now. And anyway, we can’t stay here. Detective Williams or some other cop will be showing up soon to check on me. They think I’m crazy.”
Emmett stands and walks indolently out the door with me following behind slowly. I don’t bother questioning him now. Everything he’s said up until now has proven to be true. Malcolm is evil. Vivian isn’t as heartless as she seems. And just as they both told me, I can never understand the weird world they’ve grown up in with their families. Something I believe now more than ever.
23
Chapter Twenty-Three
The butler at the Henderson’s manor doesn’t say a word as he opens the door and directs us to Liam’s study, proving what Emmett said to be true. They were expecting us after the visit from Detective Williams. This is all a scheme, but we’re left guessing as to what its purpose is.
He leads us to a room that looks more like a billionaire’s office in a high rise in a big city than someone’s home office. The floors are black marble with crisp, clean white walls. The furniture is plain and sharply designed, with brightly-colored modern art sculptures lining the shelves, much like the rest of the house.
Liam is sitting at his desk, which houses a computer set-up that is almost as expensive as Malcolm’s, with Mrs. Jameson standing behind him. Bernadette is sitting in a corner chair, filing her nails with Malcolm sitting across from her. They barely respond as we enter.
Liam is tall, with slender features and a big gut that juts out of his expensive suit. He is always wiping his balding head with a handkerchief, much like Thomas Jameson used to do. It’s a strange idiosyncrasy that all of the old rich men around here seem to share. I guess with that amount of money on the line, there’s a lot to sweat about.
“So, it is true,” Emmett says blankly. “You’re both here.”
“I have to admit, Emmett,” Bernadette sneers, “it took longer than I expected for you to catch up to us.”
“Mom, what the hell is going on?” he snaps. “Why are you here? Why did you tell the police all of those things about me?”
“I’m afraid I have to tell you something…” Liam answers, as Mrs. Jameson smiles coyly over his shoulder. “…that’s really not easy for any young man to hear. Especially not so soon after the death of his father.”
“Somebody better start telling me what’s going on real fucking fast,” he seethes impatiently.
“Liam and I are in love, Emmett,” Mrs. Jameson announces casually. Emmett’s mother is frighteningly perfect to the point that she looks plastic. She has long, blonde sleek hair that curls around her face and back, leading down to a blue pencil skirt suit that accentuates her curves—courtesy of her personal trainer and decades of plastic surgery. Her face also looks like she’s had some work done, looking impossibly young but still wrinkled and puffy from injections. She stands perched on top of stiletto heels and moves gracefully like a spider. “We’re getting married.”
“Bullshit.” He laughs.
“Are you fucking blind?” Bernadette mocks. “They’ve been having an affair for years. Everybody knew.”
“And you’re okay with this?” he shoots back at her.
