Whispers of Deception

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

“ G et in the damn car, Augustus.”

Damien Clark’s voice was sharp as a knife, cutting through the thick air of the parking lot. Augustus stood frozen for a second, trying to find his words, but the look on his father’s face silenced him. His father wasn’t looking for an explanation; he was issuing a command.

The door slammed shut with a heavy thud as Augustus got into the passenger seat, the noise reverberating through the car. The tension was palpable, pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake. His father’s knuckles were bone-white on the steering wheel, his lips a thin, tight line of barely contained fury.

Augustus could feel the sweat prickling the back of his neck as the car engine roared to life. He glanced sideways at his father, hoping to find something—anything—that might indicate what was about to happen. But Damien’s gaze was fixed dead ahead, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“Are you out of your mind?” Damien finally spoke, his voice low, dripping with contempt. The car hadn’t even fully exited the parking lot before he spat the words out, each one landing like a blow to Augustus’ chest.

Augustus remained silent, staring out the windshield as the road blurred by in a haze. His hands fidgeted in his lap, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“You look at me when I’m talking to you, damn it!” Damien’s voice snapped, loud enough to make Augustus flinch. The sudden volume made his breath hitch in his throat, and he turned his head slowly, meeting his father’s eyes.

“Dad—” Augustus started, but he didn’t even get the chance to finish before his father’s voice cut through his own.

“Did you kill that girl?” Damien asked, each word deliberate, biting. His gaze held nothing but disdain as he stared at his son. “Did you kill Willow Montgomery?”

“No... No!” Augustus recoiled in his seat, the question hitting him like a punch to the gut. He could barely find his breath, let alone his words. “Dad, no! She was my girlfriend. I loved her. I would’ve never hurt her.”

Damien’s face didn’t soften. If anything, the disgust in his eyes deepened. “Then why didn’t you tell me that you were out in town the night she disappeared?”

Augustus swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “I didn’t think it mattered.” His voice cracked, trembling as he spoke. His mind raced, replaying the details of that night, trying to remember something—anything—that would make sense of this mess. “I was worried about her. She just left the party after we’d been arguing, and she’d been drinking. After a few hours, I got worried. I had her location, so I drove to where she was. It pinged at some bar across the street from a hotel. I went inside, but she wasn’t there. I called her a few times, but she didn’t answer. So I went home.”

Damien shook his head slowly, his lips curling into a frown. “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Augustus repeated weakly, but the words felt inadequate, even to him.

“What time did you go to the bar?” Damien pressed, his voice as sharp as the edge of a blade.

“It was one in the morning, I think,” Augustus said after a pause, trying to pull together the foggy details of that night. The timeline blurred, and nothing felt certain.

“I need you to be sure. Were there cameras?” Damien demanded, the impatience in his tone evident.

“I... I don’t know. I can’t remember.” Augustus was growing more frantic with each question. He searched his memory, but the details slipped through his grasp like water.

“I need you to remember,” Damien said coldly, his voice dropping an octave, each word slow and deliberate.

“Dad, I didn’t kill her.” Augustus’ voice broke, raw with emotion. But his father’s expression didn’t change—didn’t soften. The anger in his eyes made Augustus feel small, like a child caught in a lie.

“They need someone to blame,” Damien said after a long, tense pause. His tone was flat, resigned. “They don’t care if you killed her or not.”

Augustus’ heart seized at that, and panic clawed its way up his throat. “Dad...am I going to go to jail?”

Damien didn’t answer right away. He stared ahead at the road, his jaw clenched so tight that Augustus thought it might snap. Finally, he spoke, his voice firm and cold. “No.” His eyes never left the road as he continued, “I’ll go there tomorrow. I’ll fix this.”

“What?” Augustus shook his head, dread creeping up his spine. “Dad, no. You can’t?—”

“You don’t tell me how to take care of you,” Damien barked, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. His eyes flicked toward Augustus, sharp and unforgiving. “I’m your father. I’ll fix this.” He gripped the wheel even tighter, his knuckles white. “You just need to keep your head down, and don’t you dare say anything about this to your mother!”

“What are you going to do?” Augustus asked, his voice small, filled with a growing sense of fear.

Damien didn’t respond. He stared ahead, his expression as hard as stone, his silence filling the car like a black cloud that Augustus couldn’t escape.

The road stretched out in front of them, empty and dark, the only sound the low hum of the engine and the distant roar of Augustus’ thoughts. He wanted to push back, to fight his father’s control, but he was too terrified. Too broken. He sat back in his seat, staring out the window as the street lights flickered by, one by one, their dim glow doing nothing to chase away the darkness that was closing in around him.

And as the car sped forward into the night, Augustus could feel it—that cold, creeping sense of inevitability. His father was right. They needed someone to blame. And right now, Augustus wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on before everything he’d tried to bury came crashing down around him.