TWO
I exhale,letting a breath feather lightly past my lips, concentrating on it so I don’t have to think about the gruesome scene down the hall. The fine hairs all over my body stand up on my skin. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.
I’d been aware of Royal getting up to go to Wilder when he came into the room. Not knowing what went on out there, I’d been surprised when Wilder immediately bent at the waist like he was trying to calm himself. Then again, I can’t fault anyone’s reaction after encountering what we did. Wetting my lip, I slowly allow my eyes to flicker open, rejoining the world I’d been purposely shutting myself off from.
My gaze goes immediately to Royal and Wilder, who are locked in a tight embrace. Royal’s hand moves over Wilder’s back as he whispers something to him I can’t decipher. Royal has always been good at this—he has a very soothing manner about him, which is what led me to ask if I could call him that night when I couldn’t sleep. For that reason, I’m not caught off guard by Royal comforting his friend—especially not when they’re clearly more than that now.
Wilder grunts out, “I’m good. I’m fine. Just need a minute,” but his hands intermittently clench the back of Royal’s shirt, like he’s having difficulties alleviating the torrent of emotion tearing through him. Like he’s trying like hell to be okay, but the truth is he’s been fucked-up since the second we flipped that light on and saw— A choked sob rips up my throat, but I contain it, barely a burble slipping past my lips.
Dead Freya and Dead Zane. Just down the hall. I cringe as I sit up and lift a shaking hand to my forehead, which has begun to pound like mad. Focus on something else. “Did you say the police are coming up?”
The guys ease apart, Royal touching Wilder’s cheek briefly before turning to me. “Yeah.” He hurries over to his dresser and whips out a pair of his joggers. “Toss these on, baby.” Almost as soon as he hands them to me, there’s a knock on the door.
Wilder opens it a crack.
A clipped female voice infiltrates the room. “I’m Detective Simms. Is everyone else who discovered the victims in this room?”
Wilder glances over his shoulder as I slip my legs into the joggers and yank them up over my ass. “Yes. One sec.” My hands are trembling too badly to deal with the ties to secure the pants, so I let Royal pull at them until the waist is cinched tight. When Wilder sees I’m decent, he pulls the door open wider and steps aside. “It’s the three of us. I’m Wilder, and this is Royal and Echo.”
A shrewd-eyed woman with short, dark hair enters the room and immediately studies every last thing. Us, the furniture, things sitting on the furniture. Windows. The doorway to the bathroom. I’m surprised she doesn’t stoop over and look under the bed or poke around in the drawers. Internally, I huff out a disturbed laugh. The crime scene investigators will likely do all that and more later.
Detective Simms is followed by a tall, blond officer who also takes in the three of us before nodding a silent hello. The detective jerks a thumb at him. “This is Officer Ford. He’ll be assisting me today.”
Beckham enters last, and as he slips past them, he takes Wilder by the elbow and leads him over to the bed, where they sit on the edge. My gaze flicks back and forth between them. I wonder what that’s about, but I don’t have time to figure it out, as Royal drags me close to him while assessing both officers. Finally, he boldly grits out, “Let us know what you need from us.”
Simms gives us a grim smile. “We’ve got another detective down the hall, taking a look at what we’re dealing with, but Officer Ford and I are going to stay here with you, and while he takes down some basic info, I’ll be asking each of you a handful of questions.” A knock sounds on the door, sending my heart racing again. “And that’ll be part of the crime scene unit. They’ll just take a quick look at you for any evidence and take some prints since you were in the room with the deceased.” She raises her voice. “Come on in.”
A short, stocky man comes in with a kit of some sort, but remains silent just inside the door, waiting for instructions.
I blink, seeking out the detective’s gaze. I shake my head. “But we didn’t touch anything but the doorknob and light switch.” My stomach turns as images of my hands covered in my parents’ blood flash before my eyes. Right. This is a murder scene. They’re doing their job. Going through all this again is sending panic careening through me, harsh and cruel.
“Yep, so it should be simple then, shouldn’t it?” Detective Simms’s lips twitch as she studies me. A moment later, she lets her eyes roam, almost as if looking for the weakest member of the herd so she can determine how to take us down one by one. “Do we have a volunteer to go first?” We exchange a look of indifference before Beckham raises his hand. The detective motions to the doorway. “Very well. You can follow Jimmy to the room next door. We’ll need a few minutes with each of you.”
My stomach gets a sick sinking feeling as my people go off, one at a time, to give statements. There’s no reason to think their stories won’t line up with mine.
Officer Ford is quick about getting the information he needs. Somehow, I manage to tell him my name, birth date, and other assorted facts without any issues so he can verify who I am.
And then… it’s my turn. The door opens, and Wilder files back in, his dark eyes stormy and cautious. I don’t have any idea what’s in his head or what happened in there, but I stand up to meet him as he rejoins us. He wraps his arms around me, then tucks his head next to mine and whispers, “It’s not so bad. But it might be upsetting.” He drops a kiss to the top of my head and releases me, then walks woodenly to the bed again and reclaims his spot, burying his face in his hands.
All I want to do is climb onto his lap and reassure him, because I can tell he’s feeling this hard. I turn, waiting anxiously for the abrasive woman to call me in to talk. Royal takes my chin in his hand, staring straight into my eyes. “Just tell the truth. It’ll be fine.” He stamps my lips with his, as if to remind me who we are and that he’ll be right here when I’m done.
Beckham stands, tugging me close and taking my head with both gentle hands. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’ve got this, gorgeous. Piece of cake.” I nod, letting the endearment he loves so well be a balm for all my jagged, troubled thoughts.
The first and second men bestowing kisses on me hadn’t yielded any reaction that I’d noticed from Officer Ford, but apparently the third one does it. He coughs, almost like he choked on something, then looks away. I glance at Beckham, and he shakes his head, shrugging. It didn’t occur to me to hide our relationship from these people. They have a job to do, and that doesn’t include judging me or the men I’m involved with. I eye the officer, raising a brow.
He presses his lips together and shakes his head a fraction, motioning that I should head in. Appearing in the doorway, the detective strides a few paces toward me before shooting a perturbed look at me, then biting out, “Miss Madden? Come with me, please.”
I suck in a breath, biting the bullet. The tone of her voice has me dreading what comes next. Memories of being questioned after my parents were murdered hammer down on me. It wasn’t pleasant then, and I doubt this will be now. I’m so focused on trying to pull myself out of a tailspin, the next thing I know, I’m in Davis’s room and the door snaps shut behind me.
The man who’d been introduced as Jimmy clears his throat. He’s waiting patiently for me to recognize that he’s there and ready to do his job. “Miss, I’m just going to take a look at your hands real quick.” I blink rapidly, my heart rate accelerating as I hold them out to him. He takes them in his gloved ones and turns them over, inspecting them carefully, then nods. I try not to pay attention. Instead, as he swabs under my nails and takes my prints, I attempt to focus on my brother’s room. I’ve never been in here before, but it’s much like I’d have imagined it, almost like a clone of his room at home—messy, clothes on the floor, an unmade bed, and one area of the room devoted to a large TV and gaming system. “Okay. I have what I need.” I startle at his gentle voice. I draw in one shuddering breath after another as he packs up and leaves.
Detective Simms narrows her eyes, assessing me carefully. Fuck. I blink hard. I thought maybe with the guys’ reassurance I’d be good, but no. My head is swamped with terrible snapshots, one after another, of finding my parents’ bodies. Of going through this procedural stuff when they were dead in the next room.
My past experiences intermingle with the horror of stumbling upon Freya and Zane in much the same way and going through this all over again.
“Miss Madden.” Her voice is jolting, tugging me to the present.
I exhale hard, meeting her steady gaze. “I’m sorry, I’m not handling this well at all.” The least I can do is admit that to her. Freya is dead. Oh god. I cover my mouth, eyeing the distance to Davis’s bathroom in case I get sick. I swallow past the thickness in my throat and lean against a low chest of drawers, the grip I have on the pretty wood makes my knuckles turn white. I glance up as she reads through what I assume are notes she’s already taken.
Looking up, she narrows her eyes. “I can understand that. Death is nothing anyone wants to stare in the face like that.” There’s a tinge of sympathy in her eyes, but it disappears fast. Exhaling, she nods as if to herself. “Can you tell me how you knew the deceased?”
“Freya.” My eyes slip shut as a vision of her bloody body swims in front of me. I blink. “She was my big sister in TZE.”
She takes a note of that, her brow furrowing. “So, you knew her well.” Not a question, but I’m going to answer anyway.
“Actually, no. She wasn’t around much. She was with her boyfriend a lot.”
“The other deceased person. Zane Treton.”
I suck in an anxious breath. “I didn’t know his last name, but I don’t know any other person named Zane. I had only finally met him tonight.” Releasing the death grip I’ve had on the furniture behind me, my hands shake, so I bring them in front of me and fold them together, tucking them under my chin.
“And when was the last time you saw them?” The detective eyes my movements with interest.
“In the living room right before I had a drink spilled on me.” My brows dart together. Should I have said all that?
“How’d that happen? Do you mind telling me who was involved?” She glances down at her notes.
Shit.I don’t think it was an accident, but— “It was a party foul, I guess.” Shrugging, I chew on my lip for a second before I finish. “I got elbowed, and the cup I was holding got knocked from my hands. The drink splashed everywhere.”
“But who did the elbowing?”
“Honestly, I don’t know for sure. I think it was Savannah. But it could have been Ireland. They were both right there. They seemed apologetic.” They’d only have seemed apologetic if I were an idiot, which I’m not. Oh god, my face is probably betraying my every thought.
“Huh.” She stares at her notes again, chewing at the inside of her cheek. “And what happened from there?”
I take a couple of slow breaths. “I had been talking to Freya and Zane at the time. Zane got splashed with the drink, too. I thought they were going to leave.” I lift my hands to either side of my head, pressing the pads of my fingers to my temples. “They said something about him changing his pants, I think. But I’m sorry, I really don’t know where they went after that. Except?—”
“Except they ended up dead.” She gives a sharp nod.
“Right.” My heart is full-out racing now, and all I want to do is get the fuck out of here and for her to leave me alone.
She waits and waits, staring at her damn notes. I wonder if she’s hoping I’m about to crack and give her some vital piece of information that I just don’t fucking have. She squints at me for a long moment before asking, “Was there a time when you were alone? Between the drink spillage incident and finding them deceased?”
I frown. “Are you asking if I have an alibi? I was downstairs for most of the party, then I needed to change, so I came up here with Royal. His room is the one next door. And he gave me this shirt and these joggers to wear because my dress was covered in bright red punch.” I draw in a careful breath. “Wilder and Beckham were right behind us. Beckham wasn’t feeling so hot. They stopped in here first, then after a few minutes, Wilder and Royal decided to help him to his room?—”
“The room.”
“Yes. I followed. We walked in.” My mind flashes back to it, and I shudder. Fuck, this is never-ending. “I can’t remember who turned on the light. But it went on, and there they were.”
“Anything else you can think of?”
My eyes shut against the images that roll through my head, but it doesn’t help. They only become more distinct in the darkness of my mind. A place that has seen too much. The human mind works in strange ways, and seeing Freya and Zane like that, while the scene was very different, it was also the same. So much blood splattered everywhere. The vacant look in their eyes. My lips tremble.
“Miss Madden. Are you okay?” The female detective is staring at me with perceptive eyes, and I wonder if she can see all the things screaming through my head.
I give myself a shake, trying to jar myself from the memories I’d fallen headlong into. I have no way of knowing how long I’ve been lost in thought. “I, um, yeah. I’m fine. Just—” I let a breath shudder from me. “It’s not exactly a secret, but it’s probably easier to tell you that my parents were murdered in their bed six months ago. They were shot, allegedly during a burglary gone wrong. That’s what the police told us.” I bring a trembling hand to my lips. “This was in Connecticut. That’s why my siblings and I moved home.”
That perks her up. Great. That wasn’t quite why I told her, but her eyes glint, alight with curiosity. But she doesn’t get a chance to ask any more questions because there’s a bellow from below.
“Echo!” Davis’s anguished, angry voice hits me like an unexpected punch in the stomach. “Fucking let me up these stairs! No! Stop! You have to let me see her! Is she okay?” Davis’s shouts easily travel from the lower level to our ears.
My eyes widen. “That’s my brother. He’s not going to stop until he sees or hears from me.”
As if to prove my point, he hollers again. “You will let me see my sister! If— Fuck!”
There’s a pretty good commotion, and Detective Simms reluctantly gestures that I should come with her. We haul ass to the top of the stairs. Davis has somehow managed to escape the living area where all the other people were sequestered and is being restrained by multiple officers. He’s disheveled as hell, but to his credit, he’s still fighting against them in an attempt to get to me.
“Davis! I’m here.” My heart twinges as he looks up, the mottled red pinch of his facial features a sure sign of how upset he is. “I’m okay. I’ll be down as soon as we’re done.”
His breath heaves from him, and he stares as if he can’t quite believe he’s seeing me. “Fucking hell, Echo, what’s going on up there? I thought—” He makes a sound that is so gut-wrenching, the officers holding him clench their teeth, sympathy for him clear in their eyes.
I glance at Simms—not that I presumed it was my place to say anything—and she shakes her head in warning. Right. Murder. Murder happened up here, and we aren’t talking about it yet. I wince, hoping he can read the apology in my eyes. “I can’t right now, Davis. I’m sorry. I love you. I’ll talk to you soon. I’m really okay. I promise.”
“Jesus. Okay.” He exhales hard, glancing down at his feet. At the beckoning of the detective, I’m about to walk away when I hear a stuttered, “L-love you.” It’s not often Davis shows emotion like that—he can be a stone-cold bastard when he wants to be—but this has thrown him hard.
I kiss two fingers and hold them out to him until he repeats the gesture back to me. “Don’t give them any more trouble.” He nods, reluctantly allowing the officers to take him to the other room.
I rub my hand over my face. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem. Seems like a good guy.”
“He worries. I’m sure he panicked when he realized I wasn’t down there.”
“I get it. Shall we?” She waves for me to join her in Royal’s room. As we reenter, Royal, Beckham, and Wilder are all on their feet, alert and waiting. They breathe a collective sigh of relief. One look at Ford, and I have a good guess that he’d been hard-pressed to contain the guys to the room.
“All good?” Royal grinds out.
“Yeah. He was scared—” I scrub my hands over my face, then meet his eyes. As much as Royal and Davis are at odds, I think he gets the terror that my brother was likely feeling. In fact, from the concern shining from all three pairs of eyes, I think everyone gets it.
Davis, Kara, and I have already been through something no one should have to live through ever again. And granted, Freya and Zane aren’t my parents, but this still brings back all the memories for me, and I’m certain even just hearing what I’ve seen will affect Kara and Davis. I don’t know how I will begin to tell them what’s happened. The thought of it makes me sick all over again.
“Are we done here?” The hint of temper in Wilder’s voice grabs my attention, and when I look up, I see he’s watching me carefully. He swallows hard. “I think we’ve been through enough tonight.”
Detective Simms is surprisingly agreeable. “We’re going to need the four of you to come down to the station tomorrow.” She gives us a flinty smile. “I imagine we’ll have some more questions after we’ve gone over the scene and done some research.”
“Oh, fuck.” Beckham grimaces as it becomes clear something’s occurring to him. “We can’t stay here, can we?”
I blink. It hadn’t occurred to me, but it makes absolute sense.
“No one will be allowed to stay in SIN or TZE tonight.” Officer Ford shoots us an apologetic look. “Campus police are already helping transfer students from the party to a local hotel for the night.”
“Seriously?” Royal grunts, running his hands over his scalp, ruffling his hair.
“Correct. Unless you have family nearby. That would also be acceptable, so long as you remain close.”
My eyes connect with Royal’s, then Wilder’s and Beckham’s. “Should we?”
Wilder runs a hand through the messy strands of dark hair on top of his head and nods. “I think your sister would prefer you were at home. Hopefully, it’s just one night.”
I chew on my lip, the threat from the stalker weighing heavily on my mind. Drawing in a breath through my nose, I hold it, then let it all go, decision made. “I’d like to go home for the night to see Chase. It’s probably only for a few hours anyway. It’s after midnight already.” Hopefully, my crazed stalker understands something about extenuating circumstances.
Simms raises a brow but doesn’t ask questions. “Unfortunately, you can’t take anything with you. Just your phones.”
“Can I take my dress so I can try to get the stain out?” As soon as I say it, I realize what a dumb question it was. “No. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Can you tell Davis I’ve gone to our house?”
The detective nods. “Let’s go. You’ll exit out the front door.”
Beckham shrugs. “Fuck it. Looks like we’re going to pick up spare clothes and toothbrushes before we get to your place. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Safely inside Wilder’s truck, I pull out my phone and find my text thread with Kara.
Don’t freak out.
Something happened tonight.
We’re okay.
But we’re coming home.
All five of us, as soon as we can.
As we pull away from the curb, I crane my neck and allow my eyes to travel back to the SIN and TZE houses.
“What’s going on in your head, CJ?” Beckham reaches for my hand, squeezing lightly when I don’t give him an answer for several quiet seconds.
When I finally tear my gaze from the fraternity and sorority houses, I murmur, “I was just thinking that one at a time, every place I’ve thought of as home has been stripped away from me.” I drag in a watery breath, swiping my fingers under my eyes. I meet Beckham’s concerned gaze first, then Royal’s from where he’s shifted around to peer at me from the front seat, and, finally, Wilder locks eyes with me in the rearview. “I don’t feel completely secure anywhere anymore. But I feel safest when I’m with the three of you.”