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He barks my name a couple times, but I don’t look back, because I know that if I do, I’ll end up getting pulled back into whatever the hell is going on. The fact that he doesn’t follow tells me this meeting of his can’t be missed.
I’m so proud of myself for standing my ground, I practically float up the road to the bus stop. Today, I feel in control around him, and he clearly hates that.
It’s not often I feel like I’ve won with Casper, but there’s no doubt I’m the champion of this round.
I soak in the glory as the number three bus pulls up. People avoid eye contact, and that’s probably due to the fact that I’m grinning like a psychopath.
There’s nothing that can deflate my mood. I’m going to get that list, piss Casper off, and plan the crap out of this party.
He’s kind of right about the invitations, though. They didn’t need to get printed since they work with almost everyone they want to attend. But there’s no group message invite or a quick text here. This is to be done properly. Nothing less than perfection will do. I admire that about his parents—and him, I suppose—but it does make more work on an already short deadline.
I lean against the window of the bus and watch the spring drizzle coat the glass. I’ll probably be wet within seconds, but it doesn’t matter.
When the bus reaches my stop, I hop off and thank the driver. He looks taken aback but gives me a little wave.
I’m on a high, so I wave back, throwing in a smile as well.
Yep, he definitely thinks I’m a psychopath.
Something’s on my side today because the rain fizzles out after a minute into my walk, meaning I don’t get soaked on the way to their house.
Daffodils are growing around the trees that line the driveway when I get there. It looks even prettier than it did the last time I was here now that spring has exploded colour over the grounds.
The key is behind the olive tree outside the front door. Not the safest place. I’ll pop it through the letterbox when I lock up and leave.
I let myself in and head to the little table in the foyer where his mum told me she left the list for me. I wonder for a second what it would be like to be a high-flying lawyer getting called away with a second’s notice when a client fucks up.
Casper will probably know who she’s rushed off to represent.
It’s disturbing, really, that I’m hoping it’s a murder case she’s previously talked to me about, which would never happen because she would be sued and struck off.
To get inside info on that kind of thing, though…
I reach the table and see the book beside a large bouquet of yellow tulips when the door bursts open.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m about to call Casper out when someone shouts, “Stop right there!”
Fear curls around my throat. That’s not Casper’s voice.
In the few seconds it takes me to turn around, my mind catapults me back to the night my house was broken into, and I can’t breathe at all.
With a thudding heart, I face the voice.
Oh my God. I blink, but the vision in front of me is the same. Two police officers are closing in.
“W-what’s going on?” I ask, sucking in burning oxygen.
But it’s obvious.
“Ainsley Miller, you’re under arrest…”
That’s when I get so hot, so fucking angry hot, that I almost pass out. Stumbling to the side, I grab the table in an attempt to not hit the floor. “Wait, no. Is this for real?” I mumble as the plump officer with the thick moustache moves towards me.
Shit. I’m beingarrested.
“Wait. No. This is a mistake. Flora Hart asked me to come here.”
“We’ve had a report from the owner that someone has entered their house.”
