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"What did he want?"
"How would I know?"
Chris sighed. "Has someone lodged a case?"
Xavier let out a breath. "I said, he was gone. No one knows who he is. The police were there. I've given my statement. The autopsy is being done. The authorities at Petrichor will look into it. What kind of a case do you wish to lodge especially when there isn't even a remote possibility for the murderer to be found? For all we know, he is out of Petrichor by now."
Chris stared at him, unable to shake the urge to punch him and break his nose, but then talked himself out of it as he realized Xavier had said nothing punch-worthy.
"Okay," he said. "We'll se
e about that. I should go check on Giselle."Xavier's jaw ticked, his hand clenching into a fist, as if he, too, wanted to throw a punch at him.
Chris ignored him as he walked toward her room to check up on her. He found her in the same position he'd left her in, with her back to the headboard. She'd fallen asleep, the soup untouched.
He stared at her for a moment longer, suppressing the urge to kiss her frown away. It was going to be hard. Chris knew it. He just wished they'd be able to put it all behind them soon.
Chapter 18
By the time Chris was finished with Abbott's funeral the next day, his body ached with exhaustion. It was intimate. Only a few of Abbott's old friends came on short notice. One of his school friends gave a eulogy because Giselle had refused to speak.
The day went by in a blur.
After the burial, everyone was gone, and the three of them stood in front of the new grave. Chris wanted to say a few words, for Abbott deserved it, but he was too drained to function and too afraid of his speech issue. So, he repeated a goodbye in his heart the same way he'd done after burying his parents.
Abbott, you will be missed.
May you be at ease. May you be free from suffering. May there be hope for us who mourn. Until we meet again, may you dwell in comfort and happiness.
Go in peace, for you can rest now. I will take care of your daughter.
He glanced to his right. Giselle stared silently at the ground her father lay under, and he wished nothing more than to bear all her burdens on his heart so he could see a fleeting smile on her face. She was hurting herself. After all, it's harder to keep it in than to let it all out. The silence she'd surrounded herself with was deadly. He'd been through it.
Xavier stood to her other side and also stared at the grave with merged eyebrows. Chris wondered what he thought, what his plans were.
He looked at the ground as well. Right next to Rose's two-year-old, marbled grave, was a lump of wet soil covered with an assortment of flowers, six feet under which lay Abbott Beaumont.
There were questions left unanswered, but he knew what course of action he'd decided to take.
The day bled into the night. Giselle's bag was packed, and they were ready to leave. Chris stood beside his car as he waited for her to come out of the house. He scrolled through his contacts, and his finger hovered over Alex's name.
Alex was his friend from high school who served as a private detective in the United Kingdom. He hadn't quite talked to him in seven years since their falling out in college, but now was not the time to think of that.
With a sigh, he dialed his number and went straight to voice mail. He waited a moment and then said, "Hey Alex. Hope you're well. I know it's been long since we last spoke, and rightfully so. Severing all ties to that incident and anything related to it was the best course of action at that time, as we had both agreed. Though now is not the time to talk about that.
"Abbott has been killed." His voice shook. "I don't know what to do. Call me back when you can, Alex."
Once the voicemail was sent, Chris closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath.
He didn't know the reason behind Abbott's murder, so he had to go with the obvious explanation—wealth. And if Abbott was killed because of his wealth, Giselle wasn't safe in Petrichor, either. He was going to do everything in his power to ensure her safety.
He jogged back inside to escort Giselle out but not before taking all the measures he could think of at present to cut communication from this hell hole. He strictly warned the house help to refrain from spilling details about their whereabouts in Phoenix to absolutely anyone, then formatted her phone and laptop.
Giselle, thankfully, was too tired to protest besides saying that she'd have to do her university assignments all over again. Chris paid her no heed, and she followed him as he guided her out with her bag on his shoulder.
Shoving her bag into the bag seat, he promised himself that he was never letting anything harm her. Ever.
~*~
