ELEVEN
“The investigators would have saidsomething if they found anything. There’s more in that stash of evidence than you’re aware of, Echo. Trust us, we’d already know if it’d been found. They’d have had big fucking questions, and they didn’t.” Beckham shakes his head, catching her chin with his fingers and steering her gaze to his.
“What are you talking about?” Lines of confusion mar her forehead, confirming what Beckham clued us in to from the night of the break-in. She hadn’t registered us mentioning the knife. Honestly, there’d been so much going on, and it’d been late at that point. It simply hadn’t clicked in her head.
Beckham pins her with his gaze. “We’ll show you when we’re back at the house. It’s not worth worrying about right now. We’re gonna be fine. Promise.”
Her eyes slam shut, and she takes a shaky breath. “Okay. I trust your judgment.”
“Good.” He leans in, pressing his lips to her forehead. Her entire body relaxes in his hold.
I agree with his decision not to tell her yet. Every little thing she finds out about only adds to her worry. Fuck, sometimes I wish I didn’t know everything I do.
“Echo, I’ll reiterate what they’ve said. I think we’re good. I really do.” Wilder’s gaze coasts over her as food in the pan sizzles.
I arch a brow in Wilder’s direction. “I never asked exactly where you put all that bullshit. It might help all of us to know where you stowed it.”
“Everything is hidden under a loose board in my closet. It’s not obvious at all, so I highly doubt they found it.”
Ah, thank fuck. That’s infinitely better than if the bizarre stack of evidence were sitting on a shelf in the closet or in a desk drawer. Nodding, I grit out, “Good. Sorry, but it hit me that all that shit was still hidden somewhere over there, and it was making me fucking nervous that I didn’t know where it was. But you’re right. They would’ve been up your ass about it if they thought they had something.”
“Good. I don’t want them to have any reason to be focusing on any of us.” Echo exhales heavily as her gaze slips to me.
Figures. The thought of the police looking in our direction has worried her. With me, though, it’s different. I’m the resident jailbird, so I suppose it makes sense that she’d be more worried about me than anyone else. But also… I believe there’s another reason she’s focusing on me more than Wilder or Beckham, even though the dead bodies and evidence were in their rooms, not mine. I pause, working my jaw to the side as I try to puzzle this girl’s actions out. Fuck, I think it might be because I’m Woyal, and the thought of something happening to tear me away from her and Chase again is unfathomable. It is for me, too.
The sound of that awful voice telling me he’ll pin their murder on me slithers around in my brain, making me feel so fucking sick, I don’t know how to handle it. My chest rises and falls fast as thoughts of losing them crash through me. Funny, it’s not the prospect of returning to jail that does it, it’s not being right here with these people I love—Wilder and Beckham, included. An unsettled, troubled breath stutters from me after clawing its way from my throat. Fortunately, no one notices. My gaze snaps to where Beckham is giving me the side-eye. Okay. Except maybe him.
Echo’s fully turned around to address Wilder and is mid-sentence when my brain reconnects with a conversation I’ve partially missed. “How did you even figure out you had a loose board in the closet of all places?” I blink hard. Who knows what the fuck else I missed. Goddamn. I rub my hand over my chest, trying to center myself and clear the nerve-racking thoughts from my head.
“I might have intentionally made it loose so I could hide shit in there. I’d imagine most of us have a spot like that in our rooms—because we live in a house full of assholes.”
She chuckles. “True. Including my brother. Who I think must have decided to stay somewhere else because I haven’t heard from him and neither has Kara.”
My entire body bristles. No. I don’t want to think about fucking Davis right now in addition to everything else. But I don’t want to let on how messed up my head is right now, so I mumble, “Hasn’t been back, huh?” Another wave of fuckery rains down on me.
“No. Not that I know of.” Echo swivels herself on the stool, her lips parting with dismay as she studies the storm brewing on my face. Her green eyes latch onto mine, the apology there clear.
I wrench my gaze from hers and let out a frustrated groan, propping my elbows on the table and dropping my head into my hands. I’m fucking miserable with all this shit beginning to pile on me and weigh me down.
Beckham must never have stopped his assessment of me from the corner of his eye because he rises from his chair, but only long enough to scoot closer to me and sit back down. “Hey.” His warm hand lands on my back, reminding me of when he sought to comfort me at Theo’s. It’s a simple show of support that I don’t want to need, but dammit, I do. I round my back and let him soothe me. My heart thunders in my chest, wondering what sort of fucking magic is in his touch. He whispers, “It’s okay if you’re pissed about any of the shit that went down with him or the Franks today. You’re still processing it. You know that, right?”
I draw in several agonizing breaths, taking in what Beckham’s saying before my head slowly bobs. “It’s so much more than what happened earlier. I feel like I’m cracking under the weight of the unknown, and I’m trying to figure out how to fuckin’ get my head on straight. But yeah, maybe I should try to speak to the Franks. I was already upset this morning when they showed up because of Davis.”
Wilder expels a short puff of air. “Them interfering didn’t help matters at all.”
“No. It didn’t.” I rub a hand over my face, then shake my head, trying to make myself see reason. “But I don’t know what’s up Davis’s ass. It seems like he’s just constantly out to needle me about everything. Like, fuckin’ let go of it. It’s in the past. I’m with your sister. I’m trying to forge a relationship with my son. But he keeps coming at me, bringing shit up again, and it straight-up makes me want to go off on him.”
“Maybe it’s not over for him, though.” Wilder glances up casually from the stovetop where he’s poking at our meal in the pan while it cooks. “But yeah. All of this is just a lot for any of us to handle. That’s why we stick together.” He watches me with eagle eyes, and I think he gets it.
More specifically, he gets me and how I’m affected by all the shit swirling inside my head. The stalker. My past. Desires I hadn’t known I had within me riding right beneath my skin. My eyes crash shut, and for a moment, I simply sit there. When I open them again, all eyes are on me, but I choose to ignore them, instead focusing on Wilder as he uses tongs to pull out a small pile of the pasta into a kid-size plastic bowl for Chase.
He juts his chin in our general direction, his eyes still on our meal as it cooks. “Remember the Sin Keeper said something about Davis getting his turn to talk soon or whatever? What kind of crazy shit was that?”
Echo turns sideways on the stool so she can see all of us, especially me. Maybe I’m just being a sensitive fuck today, but it feels like she, too, is checking on me, making sure I’m not about to stand up and flip the table in my frustration. She shrugs. “I don’t know what to make of that, but it’s no crazier than realizing the girl who would end up as my big sister may have had some other purpose in getting me to join TZE beyond having me pledge the same sorority as my mother.” She grits her teeth. “I no longer believe she contacted me in the name of sorority spirit or whatever. She purposely sought me out and filled my head with all sorts of things, like how much my mother would have loved it to have me at TZE, and didn’t I want to carry on that tradition and live where my mother—” Her voice breaks, and my eyes dart to each of the guys in turn before returning to her sad eyes. Echo is so damn strong, sometimes I have to remind myself this girl lost her parents six months ago.
I’m inches from getting up and going to her when Wilder drops what he’s doing. He’s at her back a moment later, resting his hands on her shoulders and gently squeezing. “It’s also okay for you to be pissed at her. Is that what’s getting to you right now? She’s dead, and you can’t ask her what the fuck she was doing?”
I work that thought through my head before a groan pulls up out of my chest. “I’d have liked for her to answer that, too. There’s something about her that’s at the edge of my mind, but I can’t work it loose.”
Beckham’s hand moves across my back again. It hasn’t escaped me that he never stopped touching me. Mostly because it doesn’t bother me. He’s always been a little touchy feely. Not in a fucked-up way… it’s simply who he is. I’ve never minded the random arm slung over my shoulders or a casual touch as a show of support or even friendly affection. I’ve watched his growing relationship with Wilder with a hint of envy that I’ve tried to tuck into a little corner in my mind. But what he’s doing right now… I let a breath stutter from between my lips. I kinda like it. There. I fuckin’ said it. To myself, anyway. I turn my head toward him and catch his bright eyes on me. They assess every move I make, every twitch of my jaw, every hard swallow, every uncontrolled shudder. I thought it was just Echo at first, but I’m beginning to notice how much attention he pays to all of those he surrounds himself with.
He tilts his head, as if he’s trying to read my response, but I’m a tough nut to crack. I’ve had walls up for years. It takes a lot for anyone to climb them… or knock through. His brows furrow as he withdraws with a slight pat and a twist of his lips. “Is it bad to say she was an epically selfish bitch? Now that she’s gone, I mean?”
No one answers, but not one of us disagrees with him.
Echo lets out a heavy sigh as Wilder’s grip tightens on her shoulders for a second before he releases her so he can go back behind the counter. Her tongue darts out to slide over her lower lip, and now that she’s collected herself, she finishes her earlier thought. “While my mother and I didn’t always have the best relationship, she’s dead, and I think Freya caught me in a vulnerable state. It’s almost like she knew that.”
Wilder pulls down plates from a cabinet, then picks up the cutting mat full of veggies that Echo has long forgotten she was supposed to be helping with. He deftly finishes slicing them, then pops them into the skillet with a sizzle. “This is almost done. And we can certainly do some digging into Freya’s background now that we know something’s not right there.”
“I can talk to Cassie. I trust her.” Echo nods. “I should have done it before this, honestly.”
“Okay. Shit sucks all the way around, but I have something else I’ve been dying to ask since we left the police department.” Beckham aims an inquisitive look at Echo. “Maybe it’ll get our minds off things for a sec.” His gaze tracks from her to Wilder. What’s this? “Where were the two of you?”
“What do you mean? When?” Echo draws in an unsteady breath, wiping her hands on her thighs, chest rising and falling at a quicker pace behind the Stone Temple Pilots T-shirt she’d changed into after we got home from the station.
“What do I mean, indeed.” Beckham’s eyes pin on Wilder, and I don’t miss the way Wilder’s gaze shifts subtly to Echo. Beckham chuckles, grinning. “That’s what I thought.”
Echo stares at him wide-eyed, her cheeks flushing with color, then wipes her hands on the fronts of her thighs again before her eyes locate mine and hold there. She’s nervous. I cock my head to the side, making a clicking sound with my tongue while studying the way her pupils have dilated the smallest fraction. “You two were off fucking somewhere.”
Wilder doesn’t say a word, but his lips twist, his eyes training on the back of Echo’s head as she stares at Beckham and me like a deer in headlights.
I give her a once-over with a raised brow. “You have a terrible poker face, baby. Always have. Gives you away every goddamn time.” My teeth scrape over my lower lip as I watch the blush intensify on her cheeks. “Oh, man.” I let loose with a totally unexpected loud laugh. “I gotta know how you managed that in a police department full of people being questioned during a murder investigation. Spill.”
Clearing her throat, she looks at Wilder for his approval before finally relenting. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we’re talking about this in my kitchen.” She cranes her neck to make sure there’s no one approaching. “He snuck into Kilroy’s office. I followed. At first, we were looking for something, but it kinda turned into me helping Wilder with a very special ‘fuck you’ to that jackass of a detective that is his brother-in-law. We, um?—”
“Please fucking tell me you fucked on his desk.” Beckham’s smile is so wide, he looks like the Cheshire cat with a canary in his mouth.
“A gentleman never tells,” Wilder quips before clamping his lips together.
“Fuck. I wish I’d been there,” I grit out. All sorts of indecent thoughts careen through my head.
Echo turns to look back at Wilder. “But can I tell them what we found out? That’s why you were in there to start with.” He exhales loudly, as he nods, but keeps on cooking, leaving it up to her. “We found a receipt for a hotel for the weekend of their anniversary, but a note on Brian’s calendar that he was going away with ‘K.’”
Wait, what?“But your sister’s name is River, isn’t it?” I cock my head to the side, intrigued.
“Yep.” Wilder barks out a disturbed laugh. “Essentially, Echo discovered that good ole Brian is a cheating bastard.”
Holy shit.“Are you going to tell her?”
Wilder begins plating our food. “Well, she was the one who initially asked me to look, so, yeah, I feel like I have to. I’m fucking dreading it.”
The sound of little feet pounding the floor puts a quick end to our conversation. “Widah make me dinna?” My little guy comes in with a big smile. This kid. He’s a ray of pure fuckin’ sunshine.
I glance at Beckham, who has just let out a sigh of anxiety-ridden relief. There’s one thing we haven’t touched on. There’s no way we’re letting him stew about it on his own. If Beckham is affected by something, so are the rest of us.