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I step back automatically, forgetting for a second that this isn’t my house and I don’t have the authority to let them in. Not that I really have the authority to deny them either.
The four men stride into the house, turning toward the sound of voices emanating from the ballroom. I trail along after them, not sure what to do. Should I try to get ahead of them and warn Mr. Black they’re coming? It’s a little late for that. And what do they want?
The second they step into the ballroom, heads turn their way. Samuel notices them immediately and steps forward to meet them, Audrey right on his heels. From the corner, I can see Lincoln, River, Dax, and Chase all watching curiously.
“Excuse me, Officer. Can I help you?” Mr. Black’s voice is polite but cool. He obviously isn’t a fan of having his parties busted up by the cops.
“We’re here in regards to the death of Iris Lepiane,” the man in the suit—Detective Dunagan—says quietly.
My heart seems to skip several beats in my chest before thudding hard and fast like it’s trying to make up for lost time.
They’re here about Iris. About her murder. Does that mean their investigation has been progressing all this time, even though River didn’t learn about it from his dad?
And does that mean someone in this room is a suspect?
A wave of horror and disgust washes over me at that thought, but it’s drowned out almost immediately by relief.
It’s over. They found whoever it was. They’ll stop him.
Samuel’s eyebrows shoot up, and he shakes his head slightly, seeming confused. “You’re here about Ms. Lepiane’s death? I’m not sure what—”
“If you’ll step aside, Mr. Black,” the detective says, his voice almost an exact mirror of the other man’s. He’s being polite, but he’s not fucking around.
So much for the cops being in anybody’s pocket.
Samuel and Audrey share a look, and then he moves out of the way. He looks pissed, his face flushed with embarrassment and anger, and I’m sure the Fox Hill police department will be hearing about this.
Detective Dunagan raises a hand to gesture his men forward, and they cross the ballroom. The entire room has gone silent as everyone watches, and people melt out of their way as they cross the space.
The tall man in the suit finally comes to a stop near the bar… directly in front of my mom.
Time seems to slow down as I stare at the strange sight before me, my brain refusing to fully process it.
What is he doing?
What…?
Mom’s brown eyes widen, and she blinks up at him in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Penelope Thomas,” he intones gravely. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Iris Lepiane.”
26
No.
No. No, no, no!
That’s not right. That’s not fucking possible.
I lurch forward, but before I can cross the room toward them, two of the officers step out from behind the detective and take my mom by the shoulders. One turns her around, and the other secures her hands behind her back in a pair of metal cuffs.
She doesn’t resist, seeming almost as shocked as I am. Her gaze darts around the room, and the second it lands on me, I see fear well up in her eyes. Not for herself though, I don’t think.
For me.
She blinks at me, opening her mouth like she might say something, but no words come out.
I can hardly hear anyway. Detective Dunagan is reading her her rights, and the people in the ballroom are whispering to each other under their breath, but the only sound I’m aware of is a low rushing in my ears.
