“And Kingsley,” I say. “What did he do about it?”
Ryland pauses, debating whether to speak. Even though everything I’ve asked so far is public information, he’s probably spoken more than he should.
He swallows. “Nothing.”
Thomas, intrigued, asks, “He didn’t search for the culprit? Interrogate everyone he could think of until he avenged Sylvie?”
“None of that. If anything, he hid.” Ryland’s body jolts as he shifts positions on the floor. I might’ve broken a rib. Oops. “It was an arranged marriage, and he didn’t even want it, but her death still fucked him up.”
An arranged marriage? Figures. The Beaumonts wanted to get close to the Crenshaws and form a tighter alliance, so they forced Kingsley and Sylvie to be their pawns. But someone killed Sylvie before they could live out their plans.
“Who killed Sylvie?” I interrogate.
“We don’t know. We’ve been trying to figure that out.”
“But not Kingsley?”
Ryland’s eyes go wide and serious. “I’m done talking. Beat me if you will.”
Interesting response.
It’s confirmed, he didn’t even try to find Sylvie’s killer, and he’s definitely taken a big hit emotionally.
But he’s Xavier Beaumont’s son. No way would Xavier have cowered away if that had happened to Mya, even if it was an arranged marriage he didn’t want. He wouldn’t have let it get to him the way Kingsley has.
So, what? Is he weaker than his father?
Kingsley is a lot of things, but none of him screams weak. Fuck, I’m so confused.
“Put the blindfold and gag back on him,” I tell Thomas, already walking away as I open my messages with Jordan. I have a fun task for my dim-witted rookie.
Rip
find out everything you can on Sylvie Crenshaw and her relationship with Kingsley Beaumont and get back to me by Saturday
Jordan
i can try but Emma has me working overtime packing orders of bread and I’m nowhere near finished
Packing orders of bread is code for packaging and sending off loads of drugs. It’s a repetitive and mundane task no one likes to do, so we pass it off to the young rookies. I was stuck doing it for four years, starting when Mum and Mother first adopted me at twelve.
Rip
did I ask how busy you are?
The typing bubbles appear and reappear numerous times before he sends the message.
Jordan
no. sorry I’ll get it done
I smile proudly. Good. He’s learning.
“Are you ready?” Thomas pops his head in, his hair slicked back neatly.
I look at him in the mirror as I knot my tie. “Looking sharp.”
“Thanks.” He lets himself in and eyes my outfit. “Hate to break it to you, mate, but your purple tie does not go with your navy coat.”
