“We’ve fucked in that place,” I joke, hoping it’ll steer us out of dangerous territory.
Cull just stares out of the passenger window, not biting my bait.
A phone ringing cuts through the tension. Detective Whitfield’s name flashes on my touchscreen, and my heart begins to race.
“What does that fucker want, I wonder?” Cull spits.
We’ve both shared our frustrations about the detective, neither of us holding him in high regard.
“I don’t know,” I say, pressing answer on the touchscreen. “Hey there, Detective.” I try to keep the derision out of my voice, but I’m not sure I succeeded. Either way, Detective Whitfield doesn’t seem to notice.
“Hudson, my boy!” His booming condescension makes my lip curl. “Good news. We arrested the Keller boy. We think he was connected to the Hackford girl’s murder.”
I slam on the brakes, my car skidding to a stop in the middle of the road. Cull’s hands fly out, one bracing against the dash, the other catching my chest on instinct.
Thank fuck there wasn’t any traffic behind us, or we’d have another accident on our hands.
I pull off on the side of the road, palms sweaty and ears ringing.
There is no way I heard him correctly.
“What the hell did you just say?” Cull snaps.
“If you come down to the station, we can discuss it. I’ll need you to sign some paperwork anyway. Congratulations, boys, your case will finally close.” The detective hangs up the phone before either of us can respond.
Cull and I stare at each other, but one word keeps circling in my head before I gasp it out loud.
“Murdered.”
Chapter twenty-two
Hudson
Cull, our parents, and I are all gathered around an oval table in a shabby conference room that smells like mildew and looks like it hasn’t been used in years.
I’m just grateful that we didn’t have to sit in an interrogation room. Even after all my therapy, I don’t think I’d be able to handle that—especially after the bomb the detective dropped on our phone call.
My knee is restless, little flares of anxiety trying to take root. I breathe through them and take Cullen’s hand, the warmth of his skin calming my nerves. He hasn’t said much since we were ushered in here and told the detective would be with us soon. His knee is bouncing as restlessly as mine, but his face looks a little ashen, maybe a tinge green.
“You okay?” I ask him, just loud enough not to be heard over our parents' conversation.
He looks at me like he was just lost in thought, his eyes blinking back into the present. “Oh, yeah. Fine.”
My eyes narrow. The moment the detective said they arrested Mason, Cull got quiet and distant. He’s stuck in his mind somewhere, and that’s not like him. He explodes, he argues, he fixes. He doesn’t disappear like this.
There is a swift knock on the closed door, then it opens, Detective Whitfield coming through it with a wide smile and a folder in hand. “It’s good to see everyone,” he greets, going straight to Cullen’s dad first, a meaty hand held out for a handshake. “Ben, so good to see you again.”
Dr. Anderson shakes his hand, his face pinched. “Detective, you may call me Dr. Anderson.”
I almost chuckle. Cullen’s dad isn’t one to throw his title around, but it’s clear he doesn’t hold much regard for Detective Whitfield either.
“Oh, uh, yes. Dr. Anderson. My apologies.” Detective Whitfield’s ears redden as he clears his throat. He continues around the table, shaking hands and formally greeting everyone before finally sitting at the head of the table, all eyes on him.
“I’m sure you are all wondering about the events that led to Mason Keller’s arrest. I have the Hackford's permission to share these details with you, seeing as we believe the perpetrator is a link between these two cases.”
My hand digs into Cullen’s, and he returns the same fierce hold.
“Amy Hackford was going through some of Ella’s personal belongings when she came across a notebook,” he continues. “It appeared to be a list of… clients.”
