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Because it turns out I never really knew him at all.
Tears fall faster now, and I don’t stop them. I allow them to fall. Stabbing pain squeezes my broken heart and nothing can put it back together again. Endings are often so bittersweet, but this ending, this ending was always going to play out this way.
Even from the very beginning.
Sienna
Two detectives arrive on my doorstep later that afternoon. I wasn’t sure I was actually going to go through with calling them, but then Andrea came over and convinced me that it was the only way if I wanted to clear my name.
She pointed out that not lodging a formal complaint could be used against me. When I told her I had no idea what she was talking about, she not so subtly reminded me that I have full custody of Bailey, and something like this could have repercussions.
Nausea floored me with that sobering thought.
I stand back, opening the front door just wide enough to let the officers inside the foyer, and the noise from out on the street hits pandemonium levels.
Flashbulbs explode. I hear someone shout my name. I hear them shout Kael’s name, too. More questions. One woman calls me a whore. A teenage boy holds up a sign asking me to be his first. A deep male voice wants to know if the band is breaking up over this.
Tremors of rage course through me.
They’ve been out there all day—the paparazzi, the media, local news channels, as well as a swarm of frenzied fans.
Three different patrol cars have had to swing by just to clear the street.
Nick has tried calling me several times throughout the day, as has Reed, and I don’t know how Reed got my number, but I don’t want to talk to either of them. I don’t want to talk to anyone who’s even remotely connected to Cold Neptune.
“Miss Jones?” says the male detective, stepping into the foyer. “I’m Detective Ginsburg, and my partner here is Detective Murphy. It’s a shame we have to meet under these circumstances. I’m very sorry. I’m sure it’s been a tough day.”
“You could say that,” I sigh softly.
Detective Ginsburg is an older gentleman, maybe late sixties, with graying hair and a short, neat beard. He wears black trousers and a crisp white button-down shirt, and as he unclips a badge from his belt, holding it up for me to see, I note his cheeks are full, and his heavy-lidded eyes are kind.
The female officer standing beside him, Detective Murphy, is a petite woman, early thirties. Her small smile is one of caution as she peeks over my shoulder and looks around inside the house. “Do you mind if we come in?”
“Sorry, of course, yes, please…” I stand back, gesturing for them to follow me into the living room. “Take a seat, can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you,” says Detective Murphy. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened this morning. Is now a good time?”
Wiping my sweaty palms down the sides of my lounge pants, I nod, feeling a wave of exhaustion come over me. “It’s as good a time as any.”
“In the interest of full disclosure, I need to make you aware of the fact that we’ve also been contacted regarding this case by a…” She pulls a notepad from her top pocket, flicking through a couple of pages. “Mr. Nick Dundas?”
She says Nick’s name as if it’s a question not a statement. “Yes, I know Nick. He’s the band manager.”
“Mr. Dundas phoned us earlier this morning in the hopes of having all the reporters cleared from outside your house. They were causing some traffic congestion. He was concerned for your welfare.”
Okay. That’s nice, and I guess that explains the patrol cars. But still, the entire institution that is Cold Neptune can vanish into thin air as far as I’m concerned.
Detective Ginsburg wanders over to the mantel, running his fingers over the thick wooden beam, before picking up a framed photograph of my mother. In the photograph, my mother is holding Bailey when he was just a baby, and she’s smiling down at him.
God, I miss her so much.I could really use her wise words right now. And maybe a hug, too.
“Have you found the camera?” he asks, placing the photo frame carefully back on the mantel. He turns to look at me. “The sex tape was made in the master bedroom, correct?”
I cringe, taking a deep shaky breath. “Yes. That’s correct. And no, to be honest, I haven’t looked for the camera.”
“I can take a peek around upstairs for you, if you like. They can be hard to find if you don’t know what you’re searching for.” A small scoff accompanies a quick shake of his head. “Modern technology is a wonderful thing when it’s used for good and not evil.” He gives me a sympathetic smile, a quick pat on the shoulder, and then points questioningly at the staircase.
“Yes, second door on the left.”
