Chapter 26
Ben
Ten years ago
The Everetts’ condo in Baton Rouge is nicer than my house back in Corbeau.
It was almost two a.m. when Silas and I got to Baton Rouge. He had passed out in the car on the way here and I struggled getting him inside. He came to long enough to jump in the shower and only fell once trying to get out since he was still drunk.
He’s on the couch, choosing to sleep there rather than one of the three bedrooms. The cut on his forehead finally stopped bleeding but it probably needs a stitch or two. Gonna leave an ugly scar. His knee is still swollen but it looks like it’s just bruised.
Mr. Everett wants us to stay here until Sunday. He also wants us “out and about” to further cement this alibi. But having people see him all banged up the day after the accident seems dumb to me.
I’ve been up for a couple of hours when my phone rings and I see Camille’s name flash across the screen. I wait until I’m back in the room I slept in before I answer.
“Hey, I’ve been trying to get you.” It’s hard to keep the frustration out of my voice. I feel like things are shaky between us right now, and with the distance, I’m trying not to give her any reason to break things off. Especially after last night.
“Sorry, the time difference here makes it hard to connect. When I think about calling you, it’s in the middle of the night there.”
“Where are you now?”
“Seville. Spain. It’s one of my favorite places so far! And the food is so good. I’m going to have so much content for my site when I get back.”
Camille took a marketing class last semester where she had to make an account for a project. The class is over but the account still lives on.
“That’s cool! I can’t wait to see it.”
I lie on my bed and listen as she recounts everything she’s done since I spoke to her last. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about what she was doing or who she was meeting over there.
People who run in the same crowd as her and have the financial means to hop around Europe all summer like she’s currently doing.
And as much as she hates the power her father wields, she sure doesn’t hate what that money affords her. Tuition paid in full at Tulane, the little BMW she drives, credit cards with no limits…and an all-expenses-paid trip to Europe. It’s a bit hypocritical in my opinion.
But then again, I’m just jealous.
I’m determined to be as rich and powerful as Mr. Everett one day, if not more so. And helping cover for Silas last night just made that path a little bit easier.
“So what have you been up to?” Camille finally asks.
“Not much. Work. It’s not nearly as exciting here.”
“I’ll be home in a couple of weeks.”
“I can’t wait to see you.” And then I float something out there to see how she takes it. “Ran into your dad the other day. He was surprisingly nice to me. I think I’m slowly but surely winning him over.”
Camille is quiet.
“You still there?”
“Yeah. He probably just wants something from you. You know how he is. And you know how I feel about us getting wrapped up with him.”
“Oh, yeah, I agree. Just thought it was kinda crazy.”
It’s clear Camille isn’t going to be on board if I accept the help her dad is willing to give me, so I’ll just have to keep that to myself.
“I’ve got to go. We’re heading to some cooking class we signed up for. But I’ll call you later. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
We end the call just as I hear Silas stirring out in the living room.
“What the hell,” he says, when I walk back into the room.
Rolling my eyes, I drop down in the chair next to the couch. “Please tell me you remember everything so I don’t have to relive what happened last night.”
His dazed expression hardens as the details come back to him. He falls back against the couch, his eyes shutting. “Shit, this is so fucked.”
“Yep.”
Silas cracks his eyes open. “Was anyone hurt in the accident?”
“No idea.”
He groans and lies back down. At least he cared enough to ask.
“Where’s Margaret?” His voice is muffled.
“Ran home after she heard your dad was coming to my house. But I think he planned to talk to her himself after you told him she was with you.”
“Shit. This is so bad. God, I’m sure Dad is super pissed. And I’m scared to find out if anyone was hurt. Or died. Not sure how I can live with that.”
This has me sitting up. “If someone died, there’s nothing you can do to bring them back. You find some way to make things right later, when you can, but be grateful right now you’re not sitting in a jail cell.”
Silas turns away to hide the tears flooding his eyes, burrowing under a throw blanket.
I have to push down my frustration. He acts like a fuckup then gets all emotional when things go to shit, while I would give anything to have the kind of support he does.
Have a parent willing not only to bend but to break the law for me.
My phone rings again and it’s Mr. Everett. I sit up straight in my chair even though he can’t see me. “Hello?”
“How’s Silas?”
“Just woke up. He was a little foggy at first but he’s clearer now. Do you want to talk to him?”
“No. I’ll deal with him later. Bring him home tomorrow night.
Kevin Foster will be here when y’all arrive.
Silas’s name is already in the group of people who were seen at Paul Granger’s house last night so we will have to address this.
Make sure your story is straight. Make sure he can tell it with little emotion, if any.
This will be the moment that counts. Do not disappoint me. ”
Before I can reply, he ends the call. With the shape Silas is in right now, I’ve got my work cut out for me.
Kevin Foster is the chief of police in Corbeau and a good friend of the Everetts’.
Not surprised he’ll be the one there to meet us and take our statements.
Mr. Everett made a big deal about having our story straight, but honestly we could tell him anything and he’d take Silas off the list of suspects.
Silas is going to owe me forever for this.
“That was your dad.”
Nothing. He doesn’t move.
“He wants you back home tomorrow night. Foster will be there to take our statement.”
And again, nothing.
Just as I’m about to pull the blanket away and make him acknowledge me, there’s a knock on the door. This gets both of our attention.
Silas sits up, eyes wide. “Do you think it’s the cops?”
I shrug and head to the door, peeking through the peephole. “No, it’s your girlfriend.”
He groans behind me as I pull the door open.
“What are you doing here?” She looks like shit. Eyes red, nose raw.
“I need to see him.”
“Let her in,” Silas says behind me.
Margaret slips past me and all but runs to the couch. He holds the blanket up, allowing her to slip underneath it with him. They’re covered from head to toe, but it’s thin enough I can hear them as easily as if it weren’t there.
“How are you feeling?” she asks him.
“Like shit. What about you?”
“I’m okay. Just worried about you. Worried about everything.” I can tell from the hitch in her voice that she’s crying.
“Did my dad come talk to you last night?”
“Early this morning. He scares the shit out of me.”
Yeah, same.
“What did he say?”
“He asked me what happened and I told him. He said a bunch of stuff about how friends are like family and family sticks by each other. He was trying not to make it sound like a threat but I know that’s what it was.”
They’re quiet for a few minutes, and I feel a little bit sleazy sitting here, listening to their conversation, although they don’t seem worried about talking in front of me. There are three bedrooms if they want privacy.
When Silas doesn’t say anything, Margaret adds, “You know he doesn’t have to threaten me. Your secret is safe with me always.”
One thing I know for sure is I’m not wasting this opportunity, and it seems like Margaret isn’t either.