All the Pretty Lies (Pretty #1)(42)
Author: M. Leighton

It occurs to me that nothing I can do will absolve me of this nagging feeling of guilt. But I’m damn sure gonna try anyway. I just wish that’s all it was—guilt—that this gnawing sensation in my gut was only guilt and not something deeper, something more tender. Because that’s a shitload of trouble. For both of us.

I took a chance that he’d be at the house today. And it was a good bet, because he’s standing on the front porch, talking on the telephone when I pull up. I can see a few remnants of crime scene tape here and there in the yard. My guess is that there were people milling around here all night long, getting evidence collected and logged in and processed. This is a family of cops after all. And they certainly take care of their own. Which worries me to some degree.

He wraps up his phone call as I draw closer.

“Okay, just keep me posted,” he says before he disconnects his cell phone. “What are you doing here?” he asks me bluntly. I can appreciate that—someone who doesn’t beat around the bush, someone who tells it like it is. Most of the people in my family are like that. Brutal honesty. I like it. Even if I don’t always give it.

“Thought I’d stop by and see if you’d figured out what happened. And to tell you Sloane got off to school okay.” The only reason I know this is because I texted her when I got up and she replied, saying she was fine, finishing up her second Thursday class.

“Good. Thank you for keeping an eye on her.”

“No problem. I’m happy to do it. I like Sloane.”

Mr. Locke narrows his eyes on me. “I can see that.” I make no comment. He can think what he wants about my interest in Sloane. I’m sure, whatever conclusion he draws, it won’t be wrong. He’s a sharp guy.

“Have you been able to figure out who’s behind this?”

“Not yet. But we will. You know about the threats Steven got. I’m sure this is connected.”

“But Steven was working last night, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So why hit the house when he’s not here, if he’s the target?”

“Oh it’s a message. And a tool. To get what they want. What they think he has.”

“Which is?”

Again, he narrows his eyes on me. “Nothing I feel comfortable discussing with you.”

I nod. “I can respect that. Here’s the thing: I’m thinking that until you and your people get this nailed down, maybe it would be best if Sloane stayed with me. I’m in a gated community. I don’t think anyone would single her out, but if they did, I don’t think they’d look for her there.”

“You’re awfully interested in my family.”

“I’m interested in Sloane. And making sure she doesn’t get caught in the cross fire.”

“And what do you get out of it?” I see the accusation and the displeasure in his eyes.

“Just knowing she’s safe.” A surge of guilt sweeps through me. That is a big part of my reasoning. But there’s more. “At least until you’ve had time to make some headway with all…this,” I say, nodding at the various holes in and around his front door. “I’m trying to be respectful, sir.”

I see his nostrils flare. He doesn’t like it, but he can’t really argue.

“As she’s so fond of telling me, Sloane is old enough to decide this for herself.”

“You’re right. I just thought I’d talk to you about it. And let you pack up a few things for her, things she needs. Some clothes since she doesn’t have school tomorrow.”

He huffs as he turns toward the house, opening the front door and tipping his head for me to follow. I do, stepping into the foyer and closing the shot-up wooden panel behind me. I’ve been this far before, when I picked up Sloane for the beach. Nothing is extravagant. Nothing seems out of line with what a bunch of men, a bunch of cops might have in their house. And I’ve seen what Steven drives. Again, nothing extravagant. He had to have made a shitload of money. So where is it? Either he’s saving it or I’m wrong.

For the first time in two years, I hope I’m wrong. I hope my search is still out there, ahead of me. And the culprit is someone that’s not related to Sloane.

********

I texted Sloane after lunch to tell her that she was welcome to stay with me until her family got things straightened out. I’m a little pissed off that she’s not here already. Even though her only response was to thank me, I assumed she’d come by after school. I mean, where else is she gonna go? Yet it’s almost seven, closing in on her normal time to arrive, and I haven’t heard a word from her.

When the alarm at the front door sounds, I roll my chair to the right of the desk in the small office, giving me the perfect angle to see out into the lobby. I see Sloane passing through, heading straight for the back. I get up and follow.

I feel the frown working at my forehead as I cross the studio after her, my irritation building. “Where have you been?” I ask without preamble.

She turns surprised eyes to me. “What do you mean? Was I supposed to come in early?”

“I texted you about staying with me.”

“I know,” she says with a small smile. “I got it. Didn’t you get my response?”

“Yeah, but I figured you’d come here after school.”

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were working. I had to go by the house and get some clothes anyway.”

“Didn’t your dad tell you I’d been by?”

“No, he wasn’t there. No one was.”

“Sloane, what the hell were you thinking? No one was home and you went in anyway?”

“Of course I did,” she says, her eyebrows drawing together in a frown of her own. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s stupid, that’s why.”

“What’s the matter with you? You’re acting exactly like one of my brothers.”

“It bugs the shit out of me that you could be so careless and irresponsible,” I explain, refusing to acknowledge the way my heart pounds harder just thinking about someone attacking her while she was there. Alone.

I see her chin come up and I realize that was the wrong thing to say.

“Luckily, I don’t base every decision I make on your definition of careful or responsible.”

“Sloane, that’s not what I meant. I meant—”

“I know exactly what you meant, Hemi, and I don’t need another brother. Or another father. I have plenty of people second-guessing my every move and trying to keep me out of every conceivable path that harm might take. But I’ll tell you like I told them—I refuse to live my life afraid, Hemi. Refuse! Life is too short to overthink every single thing because I might get hurt or it might end badly. I’ll never have a single moment of happiness if I live that way. I thought you understood. I thought you felt the same way. What happened to ‘Live, no regrets’?”