“Of course I’ve talked to my wife,” Daddy says, his voice hard.
“I understand how upset you must be,” Officer Gunn says. “We have to ask these sorts of questions. Cover all the bases.”
We quickly fill him in on the few details we have—an estimate of when we left the dance, when we last saw him, when he last texted each of us. My stomach tightens with each answer, and sickness clutches my insides. It’s our fault. We left him there. What kind of asshole am I? I left my twin brother and jumped in a car with someone I don’t even like, someone who was nothing but horrible to me every moment up until last night. I rode in his car, having a blast. I was fucking having a party while my twin was being—
Before I can finish the thought, the little red convertible Devlin bought to replace the Bel Air turns into the neighborhood. My stomach heaves, and Duke’s arm drops to my waist, wrapping around me as if he thinks I’ll go running into the house and hide. I want to. I never want to show my face again. Not to him. He doesn’t deserve to see my pain.
King frowns at us, obviously noticing there’s something going on that he doesn’t yet know. Oh god. He doesn’t know what I did last night. And he’s going to kill me when he finds out. Because as much as I don’t want to, I’m going to have to tell him.
Devlin’s car cruises slowly up the drive, taking its sweet time, making sure we see him, see that he’s in no hurry to hide from us. My body entire body clenches like a fist, not relaxing until he pulls around the back of the house toward the garage.
“Aren’t you going to go talk to him?” I ask Officer Gunn.
Daddy gives me a stern look, but I don’t care. I don’t care about looking like a perfect princess right now. I don’t care about being one. I just want my brother back.
“You know, she’s got a point,” Daddy grits out, glowering at the Darlings’ house. “Mr. Darling’s been gunning for me since the day we moved in. He’s even got my construction site shut down, claiming some dispute over the property.”
“What?” King asks, swinging around to look at Daddy.
“Yeah,” Daddy says. “One of those Darling bastards outbid me on the property where I’m building the new offices.”
“Devlin’s dad?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “One of the others. There are seven of the sons of bitches. Each of them more unscrupulous than the last.”
“Which one?” Duke presses. “Was it Preston’s dad? Because Preston’s the only one we didn’t see last night.”
“That’s him,” Daddy agrees, the vein in his temple beginning to bulge at the mention of the man who’s apparently trying to destroy his business here in Faulkner.
“What does that mean?” I ask, my belly flipping. “Are we going back to New York?”
“No,” Daddy snaps. “It means we bid higher up front, and we don’t play dirty behind the scenes like that son of a bitch is doing. If my son is hurt, and he’s behind it…”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Officer Gunn warns, holding up a hand.
Daddy looks him over, and I watch the calculation in his eyes as he debates whether this cop is one who could be persuaded. I don’t know much about Daddy’s business dealings, but I know having my uncle Benny on the force in New York hasn’t hurt our family. At least when it comes to personal issues—like all the times my brothers have been picked up or even arrested—he’s been a lifesaver. It’s harder here, where the cops are already in the Darling family’s pockets.
As if on cue with that thought, the door to the Darlings’ house swings open, and the three of them start across the lawn toward us. I try to swallow, but my throat freezes, and I can’t force it open. I’ve never seen Mr. Darling up close, but as they draw closer, I see that he looks exactly like his son with about twenty years added. He’s still trim and fit, with a no-business attitude and a tense jawline as he approaches. Mrs. Darling clings to his arm, chatting animatedly as they make their way across the acres and acres of lawn.
God, when did it get so big? It seems like they’ll never reach us. All the while, I refuse to give Devlin more than the most cursory glance. He hangs a step back, a troubled expression on his face, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his gaze fixed somewhere on the horizon behind us.
“Question them,” I say, flinging a hand toward them. I can hear the edge of hysteria in my voice, but it doesn’t stop me. “And Preston Darling. Have you talked to him? Because he wasn’t with us last night. He hates Royal. He could have been here. Or Mr. Darling. Isn’t he a tall, blond man who lives right next to us? Shouldn’t you be questioning him instead of us right now?”
The Darlings arrive at the edge of our drive just then, only a few steps off their property. A few steps past the lilac bushes and the mailbox that has been replaced since Royal wrecked into it. I close my eyes and draw a shaky breath. When I open my eyes, Mr. Darling is looking at me, his mouth pressed into a thin line, obviously annoyed by what he overheard.
Good. I wasn’t trying to be sneaky. I think his family is responsible for this, and I won’t pretend otherwise, no matter how crazy it makes me look.
But he doesn’t speak to me. He turns his attention to my father, every part of him tensed as if waiting for a blow. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it, Tony?” he asks, holding out a hand.
“I kept telling him to come by and pay a visit to the new neighbors,” Mrs. Darling coos in her sugary voice. “But you know how the Darling men can be. So stubborn.” She clings to her husband’s shoulder as he gives Daddy a quick handshake before pulling away and turning to Officer Gunn.
The officer removes his hat and gives Mrs. Darling an apologetic smile. “I’m real sorry to bother you on a Sunday, Ma’am.”
Mrs. Darling titters with laughter and swats his arm.
“It’s no bother, Officer,” Mr. Darling says, reaching out to shake hands with the policeman. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
“Then let him search your house,” I say, the words bursting from me as I choke back a sob. “He’s probably got his body in the freezer. You sick fucks, all of you!”