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“I’m going to need to speak to her. Where is she?”
Absolutely fucking not.
I kick away from the wall, ready to add another body to my ever-growing count.
“She’s sleeping,” Mom rushes. “A migraine,” she explains, a bit sheepish.
“She’s a suspect,” Cooper says, standing. Like that’ll fucking help him. He eyes me watching my feet as I take another step closer. Seems the weasel has grown a set of balls in the past five minutes.
“She’s a young girl who has apparently just lost her friends,” my father counters. Even clueless, he has my back. “Perhaps your chat can wait.”
McCallister rubs at his chin. “Now would be best.”
“Perhaps it can wait.” He repeats, this time sterner.
“One of the boys, Dale, was beaten pretty badly, different than the others. Almost like it was personal.”
I wonder if they’ll have to do dental or DNA to confirm the prick’s ID, seeing as he doesn’t have a face anymore. I swallow down a smile.
“That’s not a question,” Kaleb states, always the smart-ass.
Cooper motions at my bare neck and chest. “Those are pretty big scratches.”
“Again, not a question.” The youngest Cromwell boy is getting pissed off.
“Besides, I think we can all guess where he got them. My brother may not talk, but his bedroom wall does. The banging went on late into the night.” Michael winks. “Connecting walls. Thankfully, everyone else sleeps one floor below,” he explains.
Mother makes a noise, not appreciating his crude words.
“Where were you boys last night?” the deputy asks.
Well, shit, he’s not even trying to be discreet.
“Here,” my mother snaps. “Daniel and Charlotte were in the outbuilding . . . Michael, too. All night. I saw them off to bed myself,” she informs them, raising her chin.
“I’ll need her to confirm, of course,” he challenges while his boss sits there quietly.
A challenge which my mother rises too. “When she’s ready.”
“Gentlemen . . .” My father stands, his meaning clear. They’ve outstayed their welcome.
It’s time for them to go.
Cooper opens his mouth to argue, but McCallister shuts him down quickly and quietly with one look. Our family owning half the town and the businesses that surround it comes in handy. After all, money talks.
McCallister smiles diplomatically. “I’m sure Deputy Cooper means nothing by it. He’s just doing his job.” He motions for Cooper to agree. “No one would suggest that a member of the town’s founding family had anything to do with this.” He swallows hard when my father’s scowl doesn’t lessen.
Unable to read the room or just not caring about the future of his job, Cooper snarks, “She’s not a member of the family.”
And just like that, Cooper seals his own fate.
Once outside, McCallister knocks his thumb against the side of his nose and clears his throat. “We, uhh, we will need to talk to her soon, Christopher.”
“Mr. Cromwell,” my father corrects, pleasantries have gone.
“Mr. Cromwell,” he corrects himself. “Just to clear things up, of course.” He rushes to add, desperate to make amends.
My father ignores him, along with the hand he holds out. Apparently, accusing two of his kids of multiple homicides is enough to make his shit list.
