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“That’s why you didn’t have a tie on,” I say off handedly.
He chuckles. “Yes. It was Quin’s idea.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?”
Michael kisses the top of my head. “Does what I did scare you?”
I shake my head. “No. I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I’m not afraid of you Michael. I’m afraid for anyone that messes with you, though.”
Laughing, Michael rolls me until we’re on our sides. “Get some sleep, baby. I’ll hold you all night.”
Feeling safe, I tuck my hands around him, and we fall asleep.
The next day, I go back home after work so it doesn’t look suspicious. I’m bruised and sore all over, so it was hard not wincing every time I made a sudden move or stood up. I was also worried someone would see the bruises on my neck and face under my make up, but no one stared or whispered.
It’s a little eerie walking into an empty house, but I don’t hate it. I’m a little sad that all that violence took place in my mother’s house, but that couldn’t be helped.
Looking around, I realize that I don’t consider this place home. I have more bad memories here than good. My mother worked her ass off to buy this house, but all I feel is misery having to be here.
As Michael and I discussed, I wait twenty-four hours before I contact the police. I tell them I haven’t seen my family in over a day and all my calls had gone to voicemail. I was careful to call all three at least twice the evening prior just in case the police got suspicious and checked phone records. They took my statement and said they would be in touch with me as soon as they knew something. With James being who he was—it’s still strange to think of James, Fallon, and Conrad in the past tense—they get started immediately trying to find them.
Michael told me his friends would make things look like an accident, but I’m not sure how three gunshot wounds and two stab wounds would be made to look like an accident. I don’t ask questions. I don’t want details. I’ve overheard James talk about plausible deniability more than once.
The following day, Mr. Archer gives me the day off, saying I should be home, waiting to hear about my family. It made the news that a well-known, high-profile attorney—one that wanted to run for the senate—and his sons are missing. I don’t argue since I’m supposed to be leaving in a few days anyway.
Before I leave, a courier walks in and asks for me. After I sign for the package, I open it and see that it’s my passport. I smile sadly, thinking how James didn’t have to die. Had he waited a few days, I would have been gone and he could have done whatever he wanted with the house if he found a loophole. Hell, I would have even left the deed for him after I managed to get away.
Whatever. No use musing over it now.
When I get home, I long to call Michael so he can come spend time with me, but we agreed it’s best that we don’t contact each other for a few days. Or at least until the police find the bodies. I don’t even knowhowthey’ll be finding the bodies. All Michael said was they will be found.
It doesn’t take as long as I would have thought for the police to come to me with their findings. They knocked on the door at two in the morning three days after we killed my family.
When I throw the door open, the officer removes his hat and I sag against the door, the full weight of what happened really hitting me. I’m not upset because they’re dead—far from it. It’s the realization that I really am free that hits me when the cops start to express their condolences.
What they gathered when they found the bodies of my family is a robbery gone wrong. They think they went out and someone recognized James and tried to extort him. When they didn’t get what they wanted, they killed them all.
To the police, it is pretty cut and dry and they don’t suspect me at all. They said they would hunt down leads and would keep me abreast of any developments. All I do is nod, my arms wrapped around my middle while I listen to them speak about what they know so far. I tune them out, staring off into space, wondering how long I have to remain in California now that I have nothing tying me down.
Of course, I have to stay long enough to make funeral arrangements. If I leave them down at the morgue, it will look like I had something to do with their deaths. Then all the work Michael and his friends did would have been for nothing. I also have to stay long enough for my birthday so I can get my inheritance. It’s been so long since I had a good birthday that I almost forgot it was coming up.
For so many years, my birthday has been just another day. The last two years, people at Velli Corp have brought me cupcakes, but when I got home, there was nothing to celebrate. Now, I’m looking at getting a windfall of an undisclosed amount, a house, and whatever else my mother left me.
I shake myself when the police officers stand, realizing they’re done talking to me about whatever it was they were saying. “I know this may be shocking to hear,” he says, giving me a sympathetic look. I guess they interpreted my gazing off into space as a sign of grief. “We’ll do what we can to find who did this.” Pulling in a deep breath, I nod, standing as well. They shake my hand, give me a card, and tell me they’ll be in touch.
Shortly after they leave, I call Michael and ask him to come over. Since there is no one else here, I tell him to just come through the front door. I’m on the couch, a blanket wrapped around me when he walks in. Smiling, I open my arms to him, and he comes quickly, dropping to his knees in front of me, kissing me softly.
“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, rubbing my face where the bruise has faded to almost nothing. “How are you feeling?”
I think about that. How am I feeling? I’m not sure if I’ve been burying everything like I did with my mother or if I’m as okay as I feel. Or I think I am, at least.
Shrugging, I grab his hand and bring it to my chest. “I’m not sure. I think I’m alright. I have to get the funeral stuff done and that will let me know if I’m really as broken up as I’m supposed to be.”
Moving to lay behind me, Michael pulls me close, hugging me against him, my back to his front. In my ear, he says, “You don’t have to feel any way right now. Let your feelings come naturally. I’ll be here every step of the way.”
“Speaking of that, I think you should go back home.” I close my eyes when I say that, hating myself for how it sounds.
He’s silent for a moment and I fear he’s thinking the wrong thing. I fear he’s thinking I don’t want him when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
