26. Cody
Cody
‘ F or the moment.’
Her words are like a slap in the face.
Combine it with Bast’s admission about Elena believing Uncle Clay was murdered—two guesses who the fucking culprit was—this slow day has morphed from migraine-inducing to nightmarish.
When she steps outside the door, I query, “You ready to go, Tee?”
She nods but trains her eyes on her feet.
I want nothing more than to cup her cheek, tilt her head back, and force her to acknowledge my existence.
But I don’t.
She’s right to be angry with me. She’s right to be hurt.
And the worst thing is that not only can I not take back that night, I wouldn’t want to if I could.
It doesn’t even matter that I slept for eight hours after months of two to three-hour naps or that I slept easier with her than I have in years. That her cuddled against me, family land beneath us, the watering holes close by, the heavens above, was the most relaxed I’ve felt in decades…
What counts is that it led to me telling her who I am to her. It led to me facing up to something I was too much of a coward to deal with the day she rolled into my life.
I can fix what I did.
But only if she’s in Pigeon Creek.
If she returns to New York, we’re screwed.
That’s it.
Over.
We cannot be over.
There’s an uneasy silence between us as we trudge downstairs and pass through the hall of a home that I used to know as well as my own.
Outside, I find Bast by his truck, shoulders bowed with stress and grief. Newer lines that weren’t there the last time I saw him, when he wasn’t exactly happy thanks to fucking Sammy’s accusations, etch grooves into his cheeks, around his mouth, and between his brows.
“Your mom’s resting.” I clap a hand to the box. “Want me to send Ravenly & Daughters over with tires?”
He scratches his chin. “If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. See you tomorrow?”
He nods, but his attention darts between me and Tee. I roll my eyes at his knowing look—nosy bastard—and shepherd Tee over to my car.
“I’ll be speaking with Elena tomorrow,” I tell her softly. “If it’s a good day for her, that is. Would you…”
When I hesitate, she grouses, “Would I, what, soldier boy?”
I wince. God, she hasn’t called me that since her initial letters. “Would you come with me?”
“Why?”
The lack of intonation after hearing her speak freely with Jamie has me grinding my teeth.
“I told Bast what she said about Uncle Clay.”
Her grimace is pained. “Bet that went down well.”
“He already knew. Apparently, she’s told them all that Clay was the love of her life.”
She gasps but finally stares me in the eye. “Are you being serious?”
“Wish I weren’t.”
Her fingers press against her lips in stunned bewilderment as she brakes to a halt. “Oh my god. Poor Mr. Frobisher!”
“This is all kinds of fucked up.”
Eyes wide, she demands, “Why do you want to talk to her tomorrow? Aren’t you going to be making a shitty situation worse?”
The semi-accusation stings. “Bast says she’s convinced someone murdered Uncle Clay.”
This time, her hand drops away to reveal her parted lips. “No way.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, her testimony is worthless. Bast says she has a habit of twisting the truth. But… I loved my uncle and we were all surprised when he died.” I rub the back of my neck. “If my dad had anything to do with his passing, I need to know.”
“You think Clyde...?”
“I do. He stood to benefit the most, and Colton told me that Clyde fucked around with Clay’s will. Colton should have inherited the Seven Cs when he was of age, but Clyde kept it from him.
“Maybe it’s the ramblings of a woman whose mind has turned against her, or maybe...”
“There’s a sliver of truth to her story.”
“I have to check it out, Tee,” I rasp. “You understand, don’t you?”
“I understand.” She cups my jaw. “I’ll be here tomorrow if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
“No worries. We can take Nonna. She’ll help. Elena loves her. Plus, she’s due a visit with Blanche.”
“Sounds good.” I tilt my head, wanting to extend her touch.
Her eyes drop to my mouth.
Just as I hope she might kiss me, even if it’s based in pity, her fingers flex then shift away. “Jamie says she remembers the past better than she does the present. She said Barry Ryder was having an affair with Lorraine Holly ten years ago.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised. Clyde told me once that banging him was how Lorraine became mayor.” I gust out my cheeks. “If she’s right about Uncle Clay too…”
“Yeah.”
Leaning over, I open the back seat to my car for her, watching as she climbs in. Then, I open mine and sink into the driver’s seat.
I want a whiskey. A bed. And Tee by my side.
Not necessarily in that order.
Instead…
“Tee, will you come with us to Our Lady of Sorrows?” Marty asks. “We’re only a short trip away and seems a shame to waste gas driving back and forth.”
“It’s fine. I can take you to the Seven Cs,” I interrupt.
The citizens of goddamn small towns, I swear. They don’t give a shit about protocol.
“No. Don’t bother. I’m good in the back seat. Do what you need to do.”
Her presence means Marty and I can’t talk about what’s going on at the boarding school, but it works out for the best, actually, because my mind is racing and the last thing I want to discuss is some dumb, rich brat selling weed to other dumb, rich brats.
Maybe it’s transference, but it’s so easy to believe that Clyde, who did only God knows what to Marcy Armstrong, who mowed down Marcy’s mother earlier this year to stop her from blackmailing him, would go to the effort of taking his older brother out too.
The older brother who had inherited everything—lock, stock, and barrel.
Because Clyde would have been a millionaire a hundred times over thanks to the trust funds in place for other children, just as Callan, Cole, and myself gained when we became adults, but it’s the eldest who inherits the billions. And for a man like Clyde, only billions would suffice.
Jackass.
The ride to the school flies by. I’m so out of it that before it registers, I’m pulling into the parking lot for the faculty admin block of Old Lady of Sorrows.
Which is when I remember what I told Bast.
Cursing myself for forgetting, I hit the number for Ravenly & Daughters. “Hey, Freja. This is Cody Korhonen. Can you send some tires out to the Frobishers, please? All theirs have been slashed?—”
“Wait, all of them ? ”
“Yeah. Long story. Anyway, you may need to do a couple trips. Put it on the 7Cs’ account. Whatever it costs.”
“Sure thing, Cody.”
“Speak later, Freja. Thanks.”
Ending the call, and ignoring Tee’s watchful eyes, I get out of the car and direct mostly at the roof, “Won’t be long, Tee.”
“No worries.”
Stepping into the faculty block is a throwback I didn’t need today. It’s a long time since I’ve been here—even then, it was because my high school competed against the boarding school, so we rarely gained access to this part of the campus…
Apart from that one time I got into a fight with Miles Faulkner. What an asshole he was.
Opposite the principal’s office, a boy is slouched in a seat, popping gum.
I’ve always hated the pricks that attend this school. Time never changes the nepo babies that make up the bulk of the student body. The brats just wear different preppy clothes and have modern haircuts.
Behind him, there’s artwork from some of the classes, and there’s a take on The Scream , but it’s a hyperreal version. Somehow, I can feel the sorrow and despair more in this one. Could be because of the day I’m having or could be because this little shit doesn’t look at all apologetic for being caught dealing drugs.
Did I mention I hate kids?
His head tipped to the side once when he heard our booted footsteps, but he waits until we’re a few feet away to drawl, “You can’t talk to me without a lawyer present.”
A cool tone snipes, “That’s fine, Mr. Fairweather, seeing as yours is here.”
Turning to find the principal glowering at the boy, disapproval etched into her expression, I grace her with more attention than usual because she’s surprisingly young to be in this position. Not only that, but her face isn’t one I recognize, which means she mustn’t come into Pigeon Creek often. I might be a fool for the woman sitting in the back of my squad car, but I have eyes—I’d remember a beauty like this one.
To us, Dr. Enfield murmurs, “You can use my office. That’s where his attorney is waiting.” To the kid, she barks, “Now, Mr. Fairweather.”
He gets to his feet, but his cocky smirk makes me wish I could wipe it off his mouth.
I rub the back of my neck, already feeling the tension headache begin as my instincts stir—this conversation is going to be annoying as fuck—but I rein it in and hope for the best. Only, the second I cross the doorway, I guesstimate the lawyer’s suit costs more than Marty’s car, so I already know how this is going to go.
Doesn’t mean I can’t be creative…
“Let’s face it, gentlemen, this is a waste of my client’s time.”
The lawyer’s opening sally has me smiling at him. The reaction has him narrowing his eyes.
“Marshal, this is James Bennett. He’s representing Mr. Fairweather today.”
Bennett doesn’t hold out his hand for me to shake, but I do. When he sniffs at it, I slowly let my arm fall as I concur, “I think we can both agree this is a waste of time.”
The principal has a better poker face than Marty—we need to work on that. How my second-in-command’s head whips to the side keys everyone into how much of a noob he is.
“Why are we even here then?” Bennett derides.
Derides.
The audacity would be comical if he didn’t have a face worthy of meeting my fist. Is it just me, or does he look a little too much like Miles Faulkner?
“I’m sure you can talk Mr. Fairweather’s way out of a criminal record, Mr. Bennett,” the principal half-growls, “which isn’t going to help his student career. As of today, Mr. Fairweather is expelled from Our Lady of Sorrows.”
“Is that truly necessary?” the lawyer reasons, but for the first time, the brat appears anxious—he sits up in his seat and stops chewing that damn gum. “I’m certain Mr. Fairweather Sr. can be most generous if you’ll see to it that this whole matter can be resolved quietly.”
“One of the reasons people trust Our Lady of Sorrows with their children, Mr. Bennett, is because we have a zero-tolerance drug policy.” Fairweather’s initial smugness further fades at the principal’s refusal to take the bribe. “How would it appear to the premier of our great province if I allowed one of his daughter’s classmates to continue his studies when we uncovered sufficient cannabis in his locker and on his person to deal, never mind consume personally?”
“There’d be no record of this, ma’am,” Bennett assures her. “If you’d only allow?—”
“There are faculty records,” she clarifies. “And while you can work your wiles in a criminal court, you can’t work them here.
“No, I’m afraid this is the end of the road for Mr. Fairweather at OLS. We dealt with that bullying incident last year, despite it triggering the firing of the previous principal when the board of governors uncovered the truth of the matter, but this is a whole other ball of wax.
“Our zero-tolerance policy is something the school is incredibly proud of.
“This time, James has taken things too far.”
“I’m truly sorry, Dr. Enfield,” James whines, actually sounding his age. “It won’t happen again?—”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for apologies,” she interrupts. “My predecessor warned you that you were on your last chance before his abrupt departure, and instead of taking heed, you decided to skirt around a situation that I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to squirrel away from.”
“Surely the school requires some funding—Mr. Fairweather Sr. can be most generous if required,” Bennett offers.
Dr. Enfield tips up her chin as she flattens her hands on her desk. “My decision is final, Mr. Bennett.”
Deciding to remind them of the real world, I slip into one of the club chairs in front of the desk and bridge my hands on my lap. “Who provided you with the drugs, Mr. Fairweather?”
He cuts a look at his lawyer, who shakes his head. Sneering at me, James retorts, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“No, you don’t,” I agree. “And while I’m sure there are ways that your case could be thrown out of court depending on how much money your father tosses at it, I’m certain that I could speak with Dr. Enfield on your behalf. Perhaps your expulsion could become a family decision to change schools.”
Her displeasure at my offer brings in its own weather front—negative twenty with a wind chill worthy of the Arctic. A silent war stirs between us, but she eventually glowers at the lawyer and nods. “The last thing Our Lady of Sorrows would appreciate is giving another child the opportunity of dealing drugs within its walls.”
Bennett doesn’t even acknowledge the boy. “James will share his source if we can keep this off his permanent record.”
“His source? No. I’m aware of the quantity of marijuana found on his person and in his locker. We’re talking a dealer.”
James licks his lips, his nerves clear as he splits a worried glance between his lawyer and the principal. “Amy Nygard.”
A hissed breath escapes Dr. Enfield. “If you’re not going to tell us the truth, James, then my offer is off the table.”
Amy Nygard?
Paulie’s sister?
Fuck.
Bennett frowns. “Who is this girl?”
“She’s a scholarship student here. Amy’s also the child James was suspended for bullying last year. Hence my disbelief.
“If you’re not going to take this seriously, James, and want to further persecute Ms?—”
“She’s my supplier,” James insists.
“I don’t believe you.” Enfield folds her arms across her chest. “You went from bullying her to accepting drugs from her to sell?”
“The whole school knows the faculty is lenient on the scholarship kids.” He sneers at her. “She’s scum. Her family are from an MC! Where do you think she got the drugs from?”
“Unless you have evidence of this, then your expulsion stands.”
Her declaration triggers the abrupt end to our meeting.
James confirms his lack of proof by swiping his hands over the principal’s desk, razing everything—papers, ornaments, and her computer—to the floor.
Mr. Bennett tries to stop him and earns himself a punch to the face for his pains.
And it’s to my delight that the kid leaves the school in cuffs.
Better still that Tee sits up front with me so Marty’s in the back with the little shit.
If Fairweather only spends an hour in custody, the prick deserves it for trying to throw Paulie’s baby sister under the bus. As for the rest, I know the tension headache has only just begun…