Slaughter Daughter by Eve Langlais

24

“I have to go.”

“What’s wrong?” Braedon grabbed my hands, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. “Abby, tell me, what’s got you so shaken?”

He’d find out soon enough. “They found another pentagram.”

“Where?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m guessing the cops want to talk to me about it because Kalinda says I need to go back to the professor’s house ASAP.”

“Professor?” His brow crinkled. “You’re staying with a faculty member?”

“Yes. Apparently, Professor Santino is my uncle,” I blurted out. Seemed it didn’t sound convincing, because Braedon’s reply was sour.

“Since when?”

“Since my grandfather screwed around on my grandmother,” I snapped. Yeah, I perpetuated the lie, but I didn’t appreciate his attitude.

“When did you find out?”

“A few days ago,” I mumbled.

“So you didn’t know before moving here?” His brows rose. “And you both just happened to be here at the same time?”

The mother of all coincidences showed the weakness in the plan. I knew this charade wouldn’t work, but it was all I had. “It’s a small world, I guess.”

“Pretty fucking small,” Braedon muttered as we walked back to his car.

It occurred to me I’d never gotten to see the crime scene with its pentagram. Knowing another pentagram had been found, I’d lost my curiosity to see it.

Braedon didn’t say much as he drove me to the professor’s house. Angry. Simmering. And for what?

My tone conveyed my rancor. “For a guy who professes to like me, you can be a jerk. First, you condemned me based on who my parents were. Now, you’re giving me attitude because of my uncle. Both things I have no control over, and I’m tired of being judged because of them.”

He clenched the steering wheel. “I’m not mad about that. More like pissed at the fact that you’re being used.”

“Used to do what?” I poked a hole in his theory. “Joseph lost his job because of me. The house I was staying in was vandalized. Teachers have asked me to drop their classes. And you’re going to tell me the only people sticking by my side, the only ones who don’t give a shit about my past, are the enemy?”

“Yes.”

“Why? And don’t tell me you can’t explain.”

His jaw tensed. “I don’t have time now. Meet me later.”

“Assuming I’m not arrested for something I didn’t do.” We pulled into the massive driveway. A police car was parked out front, and my favorite officer, Jenkins, stood on the front step. Even came to greet me as I stepped out of the passenger seat.

“Hello, Officer.”

“Where have you been?” Jenkins snapped, hand on his gun. Made me wonder if he slept with it. Probably.

“I was hanging with my friend.” I gestured to Braedon. “Why?”

Rather than reply to that question, Jenkins smirked. “Does your boyfriend know you’re cheating on him?”

First off, Jag was not my boyfriend. And second, would he be pissed? I both wanted him to be jealous and didn’t.

“I should be going,” Braedon declared. “Call me later.” An offer than required him programming my phone while I stood and tried to act nonchalant, as if people gave me their number every day. They didn’t, in case you wondered.

He drove off, leaving me with Jenkins and his sneer. “Planning a hook-up?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Braedon’s going to help me work on being an asshole in case I decide to follow in your career footsteps.” I could have been nice. Polite. But Jenkins annoyed the fuck out of me.

I entered the house to find half of the gang there. The professor stood by the fireplace, and Kalinda served cookies and coffee, while Cashien sat on the couch beside Mary, who, of course, held an open laptop. I didn’t see Peter, Jackson, or Jag and wondered if they were in the house or still out.

How had Jag’s visit with the body gone?

“Abby.” My fake uncle beamed. “I trust your outing was enjoyable.”

Not really, but I lied. “Yes, it was. I assume there’s a reason our friendly local PD is visiting?”

“We found another pentagram,” Walters declared.

“And rushed over to accuse me. You shouldn’t have.” They ignored my sarcasm as I flopped onto the couch.

Walters had his notebook out. “You recently lived here, correct?” He showed me the address of the house I shared with Kalinda and the others.

“Yes.”

“During our investigation of a crime at that location—”

“A crime you’ve yet to arrest anyone for,” Kalinda huffed.

“Ma’am, vandalism pales in comparison to what they found in that basement.”

“A basement you didn’t have a warrant to search,” Cashien interjected.

“We were securing the premises when a pentagram was discovered,” Walters declared. “The fluid found at the scene has been sent for processing. Investigators are currently gathering evidence.”

I rolled my eyes. “And, of course, you think I created it.”

“Doubtful, given my niece has been staying with me,” the professor smoothly lied.

Walters’ mustache wiggled. “The blood was fresh. And, apparently, she was inside the house today.”

“I didn’t do it.” The only defense I had. But it wouldn’t matter if someone planted hair or something of mine with it.

Jenkins was the one to glance at his phone as it beeped and then leaned down to whisper in Walters’ ear loud enough that we could all hear. My blood ran cold at what he said.

When Walters turned his gaze on me, I could see him bubbling with triumph. “They’ve matched the blood at the crime scene in the basement to Mr. Jerome.”

Oh. Shit.

“I don’t know how it got there. It wasn’t me.” I could feel the trap springing shut on me.

Jenkins grinned in glee as he hitched his pants and said, “We are going to have to continue downtown.”

“Am I being arrested?”

The professor stepped in. “You do realize Abby is not the only person living in that house, right?”

Kalinda hurried to add, “And the basement is always locked. None of us ever went down there, and only the landlord has the key.”

I could have added more to that, such as the fact that I didn’t even know we had a basement. Not that I would have checked it out. Basements were creepy.

“Given her past, I’m afraid we need to question her further.” Walters almost sounded apologetic.

Again, I didn’t have to defend myself, as my new friends stepped up, with Cashien interjecting, “Not without a lawyer present. No one questions her without me.” Was he allowed to be my legal counsel? Had he passed the bar?

“We’ll wait for you, but she rides with us.” Walters stood and tucked his notebook away. Jenkins pulled out a zip strip.

The professor protested. “There’s no need to tie her hands. She’s no danger to anyone.”

“We’ve got a dead kid she had a grudge against.” Jenkins’ eyes gleamed, the excitement in them barely contained.

I just felt sick and tired. I held out my wrists. The truth didn’t matter. My innocence, either. “I’ll go. I have nothing to hide.” I tried not to wince as the plastic bit into my flesh when Jenkins tightened it more than necessary.

“Let’s go.” Jenkins tugged me, and I ducked my head, hiding the tears brimming in my eyes.

I barely heard the rush of promises—“Don’t worry, we’ll have you out before bedtime.” “Stay calm.” “I’ll keep dinner warm.”—as we headed out the door. Only to almost slam into Walters, who froze on the front step, phone to his ear.

“Say that again,” Walters snapped. Then, after a pause, “You do know I have her in custody?”

I held my breath, realizing he was speaking about me.

“Are you sure?” Walter asked. Then sighed. “Yeah. I hear you.” Walters hung up and turned to Jenkins. “Cut her loose.”

“What?”

“Let her go. Captain’s orders.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. She’s a killer.” Jenkins sounded genuinely baffled.

“Not according to the person who turned themselves in and is claiming they did it.”

My turn to exclaim, “What? Who confessed?”

Walters ignored me. “Gotta cut her loose.”

“I don’t have scissors.” Said by the disappointed cop.

“I’ll get some.” Kalinda, who’d followed, went running back inside.

Without waiting to see if I’d been set free or even offering an apology, Walters and Jenkins got into their car and left. It wasn’t until my hands were cut loose that we found out who they’d arrested.

Jag.