"Are you ready?" I asked.
Blake smiled, but it was forced. He got out of his truck and I followed behind. My heart buzzed with nerves and the palms of my hands started to sweat. Oh God, this is one of the worst ideas I've ever had. I just hoped Wright wouldn't think we were only sharing our theory to cover up our own guilt, specifically Blake's. He probably would, but we couldn't ignore what we'd found, unfortunately.
Wright stood beside the front desk talking to a colleague and he turned as if he'd sensed us walking in. My stomach knotted. How did he just know? The man wasn't human.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" Wright asked, threading his fingers together over his swollen belly.
Blake's eyes narrowed. "We'd like to talk to you. If it's not too much trouble."
"Have you come to confess, Mr. Harper?"
"We want to talk to you about another possibility," I said, cutting in before Blake could bite back with a stupid remark. "If you can spare us the time?"
"For you, Miss Keaton, anything."
Cocky, sarcastic bastard. I smiled, or what I hoped looked like a smile, and followed him into the all-too-familiar interview room. "How has no one ever killed him?" Blake whispered in my ear.
I shrugged. Wright must have rubbed enough people the wrong way. I wondered if he conducted every investigation the way he was this one. Surely not. My knowledge of policing and detective work was limited to TV shows, but he didn't seem professional. He was too eccentric in a pushing-unprofessional manner.
"Take a seat," he said, gesturing to the metal chairs. Being in an interview room made me feel like a criminal. It was like when a police car followed you on the road. You'd done nothing wrong, but you're positive you were going to get in trouble anyway.
Blake was sitting so close his arm brushed mine. It wasn't accidental. He knew I needed the support and I leaned on him like a lifeline.
"So," Wright said, waving his hand, "you have the floor."
"Um, we found something and we have something to show you," I muttered, stumbling over my words nervously.
Wright nodded, smirking a little in a patronizing way that made me grind my teeth. "Another suspect? I see you have a box of tricks with you."
I frowned. "Yes." He wasn't even taking this seriously, and it made my blood boil. The contents of the box would probably wipe that smug smile right off his face.
"We think that Josh could have done it," Blake said. "Or Courtney."
"What an interesting theory, Mr. Harper. That would certainly pan out very well for you, wouldn't it? That would solve all of your problems."
Yes, it would.
"Josh had jealousy issues. He saw Courtney as his. Their sex life was far from the comfortable, old missionary. I don't know. Maybe he was mad at her or something. Or maybe she'd had enough. Can you just look into it, please?" I asked, sliding the box over to him.
He cocked his head to the side, ignoring what I had said completely. "You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?"
"Clearing my and my friends' names? You probably won't be surprised by this, but yes, I have." Calm down. Don't let him get to you.
"Let me share some information with you, just to make your own little investigation easier," he said. "Josh and Courtney were both murdered. From the angle of the knife wounds, it would have been very, very difficult for either one of them to have done that to themselves, and given the brutality and quantity of stab wounds, at this point, I'm ruling them both out as suspects, because the stab wounds were made by the same person. I'm quite offended you assumed I hadn't already investigated that possibility."
Blake shrugged. "Well, you don't tell us much so you can see how we got there."
I kicked him under the table, which only made Blake smirk. "Look, we just want to know who did this. They were my friends."
"Except for Joshua. If I remember correctly, you didn't like him," Wright replied.
I clenched my jaw. Why wasn't he listening to us? "That doesn't mean I wanted him dead."
"Perhaps not."
"Definitely not," I snapped. "Do you have any idea who it was at all?"
Wright leaned forward on the table and smiled. "Mackenzie, I have five ideas."
Blake stood up so fast his chair made a horrible scratching noise on the floor. "That's a no then. Come on, Mackenzie. He obviously doesn't have a clue. Want us to leave you with that box so you can flick through the photos and work out if Courtney would have been capable of stabbing her boyfriend so brutally after what Josh put her through, or are you still ruling that out?"
"Thank you, Blake, I'll have someone look through this and we'll return it when and if we can."
Blake snorted, shaking his head. "You really don't know anything, do you?"
I got up and we walked to the door. I was as done as Blake was. What was the point in going to the police if they wouldn't even hear you out?
"I do know one thing," Wright said just as we were about to walk out of the room.
"What's that?" I asked over my shoulder.
"Your friend Aaron has been talking pretty loudly about Mr. Harper's motives. We all know he had the opportunity."
My face fell. I spun around. Aaron had been talking to Wright about Blake? "What?" I whispered.
"I'm not surprised Aaron's bad-mouthing me. He's not a huge fan," Blake replied and shrugged, showing Wright that he wasn't getting to him.
It was getting to me though. Big-time. How could Aaron do that? I would never share their secrets with the detective just to help myself out. Aaron had no proof that it was Blake, so he shouldn't be spreading rumors. I wasn't, and I knew he was dabbling with drugs.
Wright's smile faded so slightly I almost missed it. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss, or are you all out of--"
"We're done," I snapped and stormed out of the room. I wanted to request a proper detective, but I had a feeling he wasn't technically doing anything wrong. He kept details from us until he wanted us to know--but that wasn't a crime. That tactic was readily used in police investigations.
Since my parents were out, we went back to my house and headed to my room. "We're screwed, aren't we? They're going to pin it on one of us if they can't find out who really did it." I said.
"If there's no evidence, then no."
"But innocent people go to prison. What if the jury does that beyond-a-reasonable-doubt thing?"
His smirk widened. "Good thing you chose detective as your career path and not lawyer."
I flopped back against my pillows. "You're not funny. I hope you know that."
He rolled over, hovering above me. "Please, you think I'm hilarious."
"Yes," I said, "but probably not in the way you're thinking."
His eyes turned serious and I wanted him to kiss me more than I wanted to breathe.
"Really?" he whispered, inching closer. I was pretty sure if I continued teasing him, he would get payback by pulling away, so I bit my lip. There was plenty of time to tease, but this was a time for kissing.
"Blake," I breathed.
"Yes?"
"You're being horrible."
"I'm not doing anything," he replied innocently.
Narrowing my eyes, I gripped the sides of his T-shirt and pulled him closer. "If you're going to kiss me just do it or--" His lips sealed over mine, kissing me deeply, fiercely. His mouth moved against mine with a desperation that made my toes curl. We attacked each other like animals.
We didn't have long though. My mum was due home any minute, and I really didn't want her to walk in on us.
"Blake," I managed to murmur against his mouth. He groaned and shook his head, gripping my hips and cementing my body to his. I pushed at his chest when I could barely breathe, and he pulled away, smirking. "You're like some horny fifteen-year-old."
His eyebrows knitted together. "Actually, I kind of feel like it again."
"Blake Harper, are you admitting you like a girl?" I teased.
"Whatever," he muttered and sat up. I ha
ted having any space between us. He was under my skin now whether I liked it or not. And I liked it. "We should go back to my house and check on my mum."
"We?"
"Not sure if I've mentioned this but--"
"You don't do hysterical women," I said, finishing his sentence. "You may have mentioned it once or twice. I'll come."
The whole way to his house, Blake was silent. I watched him drive for a minute and then decided, since he wasn't filling the silence with anything idiotic, I would talk to him about something that had been on my mind.
"Blake, will you tell me more about your relationship with Josh?"
His lips thinned into a grim line that reminded me how much he didn't like sharing his feelings--and how he didn't like his brother. "What do you want to know?"
"You didn't have a good relationship?"
"It wasn't the best, but then we had barely spent any time together. I think I saw him about ten times through our teenage years. We weren't really brothers, not properly anyway."
"Did you want to be?"
"I guess. I've not really thought about it much. We weren't a family. That was fine though. Dad and I managed." He smiled at a memory. "Though we ate crap all the time. We should be at least double the size we are."
"Your dad isn't a big cook?"
"Not really. We can both make a few things, but we ate a lot of takeout, mostly from laziness."
"Why do you feel like your mum preferred Josh?"
"Because she does. If you have a son that you spent every day with and another you barely spent a week a year with, who would be your favorite? It's fine. I favor my dad, and I'm sure Josh favored Mum. It's natural to love who you're with most, isn't it?"
I bit my tongue. Not if you're the parent. "Yeah, maybe," I replied. "Why did you decide to come with us to the cabin? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you did. I just don't understand why."
He turned onto his street. "My dad started working away even more. When you come home to an empty house every day, your mind eventually wanders to the other half of your family. Josh and I had spent some time together a couple months before, and it went OK. I thought that maybe we could be brothers now that we could control where we went. Before, it had always been our parents pulling the strings, and that was usually in opposite directions."
So he really did want to reconnect--or connect--with his brother. "I'm sorry you lost him before you had a chance to do that."
Blake gulped and nodded. His jaw tightened. I knew I should change the subject before our conversation got too emotional. I didn't want him to withdraw from me again. "I'm going to cook for you and your mum tonight. What's your favorite dinner?"
He blinked heavily. "Doing a conversation one-eighty. Nice. I like spaghetti Bolognese. I think my mum does too."
"Sounds good." I smiled at him, and he smiled back, as if he was trying to figure me out. He pulled into his drive, and that was when I noticed the police car beside Blake's mum's. "What're they doing here?" Blake muttered, frowning.
We jumped out of the car. I prayed Eloise hadn't done anything stupid. If she was dead too, then what was Blake going to do? As much as he didn't think he needed her, he did.
Blake unlocked the door, and I raced past him into the living room. Two officers sat on one sofa, and Eloise was on another. I sighed in relief when I saw she was OK, physically anyway.
"What's going on?" Blake asked.
The officers, who I didn't recognize, moved quickly, grabbing Blake's arms and twisting them round his back. "Blake Harper, I'm arresting you for the murders of Joshua Harper and Courtney Young." The officer launched into telling him his rights. Then the officer said, "Do you understand?"
"What?" I said numbly, my body going into shock. "Why?"
Blake's jaw was tight, tense. "I get it," he bit out.
"I found them under his bed," Eloise cried, rocking on her chair.
"What? Found what?" I questioned.
"Courtney's earrings and Josh's chain. He did it. He killed them. He killed my Josh."
My mouth dropped open as my heart fell through the floor. I shook my head. "No..."
The two officers shoved Blake forward and out the front door. It took me a few seconds to force my legs to walk, but when I did move, I sprinted back out the door. "Wait!" I shouted. They had made a mistake.
The officers had just opened the back door for Blake when I reached the car. Blake looked at me, and his expression--defeat--made my heart ache. "I didn't do it, Mackenzie," he said just before he disappeared into the backseat. He watched me as the car drove off, his eyes pleading with me to believe him.
I believed him. Of course I did, and watching him being taken hurt so much I was breathless. I'd fallen in love with him.
Chapter Twenty-One
The car turned out of my sight, and my heart cracked. This wasn't right. To be accused of murder by your own mother!
But there's evidence.
There were things belonging to Courtney and Josh in Blake's room, which anyone could have put there. Josh was never on edge or nervous when I was in his room, not once, and he didn't even think of his place in his mom's house as his real bedroom. Why would he hide the jewelry there if it was his?
Someone's setting him up.
I sprinted back in the house. "Eloise!" I shouted, gripping the doorframe for support and to stop myself before I fell over.
Eloise had her arms around her knees, huddled in her chair as she sobbed. I gritted my teeth as anger boiled inside my stomach. She was crying over her son being guilty. Why couldn't she have faith in him?
Stay calm. I slowly walked over and perched on the edge of the sofa next to her chair. "What happened?"
"They found that stuff in his room." She shook her head, wiping her tears. Her face was tearstained and blotchy. "I can't believe it. I don't want to believe it."
"Then don't. I don't believe it. Blake didn't do this and you know it. The police searched the house before and found nothing. It doesn't make sense for him to put their things there now."
"Yes, it does. He thought the searches were done, that it'd be safe now."
I shook my head. "No. Someone must've planted those things to make him look guilty. Blake is being set up, Eloise. Who else has been in the house?"
She had to have let someone else inside.
"I-I'm not sure. A lot of people have come by to check on me." Her voice cracked and she sobbed again, wiping her tears on the back of her sleeve.
Taking a steadying breath, I asked, "Did Aaron, Megan, or Kyle come over?"
"They were here after Josh's funeral."
"But that was the only time?"
She nodded. "Yes, that was it."
I closed my eyes and tried to think back to that day. The police had searched our houses straightaway, well before the funeral. We were together most of the time, but I had been flitting between them and Blake. Who had gone off alone? None of them had really moved from the spot I'd left them in, and I was never gone too long, but they could have had enough time to get upstairs and back. Which one of them would be so bold as to bring trophies from our dead friends to the wake and plant them in Blake's room? I couldn't picture any of them being brave enough--or stupid enough--to do that.
"Why would Blake want to hurt his own brother and uncle?" Eloise asked, breaking me away from my loop of questions.
"He didn't. This wasn't him. You have to believe that. Think about it. Someone tips off the police and they miraculously find Josh's and Courtney's things in Blake's room. It's too convenient. It doesn't make sense for him to have put those there after the first search. He would have dumped them. Please don't give up on him. He needs you."
She buried her head in her knees and gripped her hair. "I have nothing left to give him."
I clenched my jaw and my hands shook. "He's your son! You have to find some compassion inside you, the same as you would have for Josh. I'm serious, Eloise. He needs you. You can't honestly think it was him."
She frown
ed, shaking her head. "I don't know. I just... I don't know."
"Whatever!" I spat, walking out before I said something that I probably wouldn't regret.
We had driven Blake's car, so I had no way of getting anywhere other than walking. I didn't want to call either of my parents or any of my friends. I still needed to figure out who put that stuff in Blake's room, and I was going to start with Aaron.
He was the one with a temper.
I left Blake's and walked to Aaron's. My mind swirled with possibilities and theories. Blake must be terrified. He'd been arrested for something he hadn't done. I didn't want to believe it could be Aaron, but he could turn in an instant if someone pushed him.
It was the middle of a warm day, but the roads were deserted. I took a deep breath. Someone was cutting grass somewhere. It looked and smelled like summer, but it sure didn't feel like it. Summer before university was supposed to be fun, and I'd never been more miserable.
I rounded the corner and heard what sounded like light footsteps. Stopping so I could hear properly, I turned my body to get a good look in both directions.
The only thing I could hear was my heart jackhammering in my chest.
You're paranoid. There's nothing there.
Spinning back, I picked up my pace until I was at a comfortable jog.
It's fine. Just get to Aaron's.
I pushed myself, my thighs beginning to ache from the exertion. If this didn't motivate me to get back into exercising, then nothing would.
Thud. Thud.
Shit. I lurched forward and took off in a sprint. My lungs burned as I gasped air. Feet slammed down on the concrete, sending pains shooting up my shins. Keep going, almost there.
Someone was coming after me.
Did they want to hurt me like they had Pete?
Had Pete stumbled on some evidence?
Go, Mackenzie!
Aaron's house came into view, and I wanted to collapse in relief. I was running too fast to look behind me to see if anyone was there, and I couldn't hear through my loud, shallow breaths, but I kept one foot in front of the other as I flew toward my destination.
Hurry.
I slammed into the wall surrounding Aaron's family's front garden and almost toppled over it. My hip bone screamed as it came into contact with the brick.
I cried out, bending over and gripping my side for dear life.