Chapter 32 #2
“Just the space Miss Price has access to, which is her unit and any common areas. We will not enter any of the other units. The property management company supplied us with a detailed plan of the house. Miss Price will need to remain out here but the rest of you are free to go back to your own units. You just have to stay out of the common areas.”
“We’ll stay out here with Aubrey until you’re done,” Shane says.
We were able to hide the knife, but we didn’t check to see if there was anything else planted in my room, waiting to be found.
Tears form and spill over. I bat them away only for them to quickly be replaced. I hate crying. Hate it. But now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop.
Shane pulls me back to the chairs we were sitting in when the cops arrived, Eddie following close behind.
Frank’s party breaks up, everyone deciding it’s time to go home after a few of them are questioned by the police. No one wants to be caught up in whatever this is, but Frank stays, pulling up chairs for himself and Serenity next to us. I’ll be forever grateful to them for sticking with me.
Cops come in and out of the house, but thankfully, no one goes into the garage. Shane and Eddie pay an extra hundred dollars a month in rent for it so it should not be considered a common area.
Deacon is aware of what’s going on since Shane called him, but we decided if things go sideways here, he’s more help to us if he’s not involved. We may need someone available to bail us out of jail.
Close to one a.m., the cop who spoke to us earlier exits the house, followed by the half dozen who showed up with him. He approaches where we’ve been waiting patiently.
“We have executed the search and it came up empty. If you have any questions, you can call the number on the paperwork I gave you when we arrived.”
We just look at him.
When he realizes we aren’t going to say anything, he adds, “You are free to enter your unit, Miss Price.”
He turns to leave and yet we still don’t move. Not until every single cop is gone.
When it’s just us, I call Deacon. “They’re gone.”
“I’ll be there in five.” The line goes dead.
Serenity motions for Frank to follow her back to her place above the garage. “Fill us in tomorrow. We’re headed to bed.” I appreciate Serenity getting Frank out of here because we wouldn’t be able to speak freely in front of him.
The rest of us move to the kitchen, where we wait for Deacon.
Eddie drops the copy of the warrant on the table. “I’m going to walk through the house to make sure they didn’t break anything. At some point, everyone else needs to check their rooms to make sure the cops didn’t go where they weren’t allowed.”
Shane pulls a couple of beers from the fridge, offering one to me, but I decline.
I scrub my hands across my face, wishing I could wipe away the evidence of how badly this has upset me, but I start crying again the second Deacon walks through the back door.
He sees me immediately and slides into the chair next to mine. “Are you okay?”
I nod and he wraps an arm around me, pulling me in close.
“What the hell happened?”
Eddie catches him up on everything. Deacon is absently playing with the ends of my hair and I sink into him even more while I listen to them bat around their theories.
Finally, Deacon says, “Let’s talk to Serenity in the morning about a list of people at the party since one of them could have planted the knife. Not much else we can do tonight. Until we figure out who did this, the house stays locked up tight. No one but us in or out. Everyone good with that?”
We all nod.
Shane and Eddie head to their room and then it’s just Deacon and me in the kitchen.
I can tell from how tense he looks that he’s pissed.
He shifts me to the side so he can pull his wallet out of his back pocket and pulls out a business card and props it against the saltshaker so he can read the number.
“Who are you calling?”
“That lawyer, Hank, who showed up at Doug’s last night.”
“Why are you calling him?”
He finishes putting the number in and hits the call button. “He said to call him if something significant happens and this feels pretty fucking significant.”
Despite the late hour, Hank Landry shows up forty-five minutes after Deacon called him. While we waited, Deacon peeked in my room, but neither of us went in any further. We wanted him to see it exactly as the cops left it.
We meet Hank in the front yard after he texted Deacon that he was parked on the street in front of the house.
Things are tense. We’re not friends. We’re not working together. But somehow we’ve found ourselves connected to Hank in a weird way.
“Show me where they searched.” It’s all he says as we lead him around the house to the backyard, taking him to my exterior entrance so we don’t wake up Shane and Eddie.
His shoulders stiffen when he sees the mess left behind in my room. “Did they give you a copy of the warrant?”
I hand him the document the cop gave me, and Deacon and I stand quietly next to him while he reads through it.
After he’s finished, he glances around the room. “And they said the search was unsuccessful?”
I nod.
Hank walks through the room, stopping near my dresser, where the knife was planted. Obviously, we left that part out.
Deacon gets antsy and rights the mattress over the box spring then picks up the sheets and comforter to remake the bed. I appreciate the effort but I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to sleep peacefully in here again.
“What is all of this?” Hank asks.
I have to step around a pile of clothes to see what he’s referring to.
“Shit,” I mumble when I move closer. “Those are the letters and gifts an inmate at Angola named Paul Granger has sent me over the last several months. The police must have spread them out like that because they were in my drawer.”
Each letter is unfolded and stacked on top of the dresser, next to the leather goods he makes and sends with each one.
Hank’s head tilts to the side. “Gifts?”
Hank not asking who Paul Granger is tells me he’s way more aware of what’s going on than he let on at the bar last night.
“He makes leather goods and sells them at the craft shows Angola has on Sundays in April and October.”
Hank picks each one up, inspecting all the items. There’s a wallet, a couple of bracelets, a jewelry box, and the bookmark.
He moves on to the letters and reads each one carefully.
“He makes a good case,” I say.
Hank ignores my comment and instead says, “All the letters are handwritten except this one. When did you get it?”
“Hold on.” I shuffle the letters around and match them up.
“This one came with the wallet, which also had a Saint Jude prayer card in. He’s the patron saint of lost causes.
Paul is kinda dramatic like that. The bracelets came separately with these two, and the typed one came inside the jewelry box. That’s the last one I got.”
“And the bookmark?”
I shake my head. “No letter with that.” I’m not about to tell him I visited Paul in person last weekend.
Hank looks everything over then takes a step back. “I’m not sure what you want me to do about any of this.”
“You showed up at Doug’s last night for a reason.
” Deacon has been silent up until now. “You know more than you’re saying, which I get.
The cops thought a knife missing from the Bayliss house was in this room.
Just know that if Aubrey is in their sights, so is Camille Bayliss. But I think you know that already.”
Hank lets out a deep breath. He looks tired. Beat. This hasn’t been an easy week on him either.
Deacon takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “There’s no saving one without saving the other.”
The grim look on Hank’s face tells me he’s not convinced that’s the case.
“Ask Camille why I was at the Rosary,” I blurt out. “Why I was in St. Francisville.” It’s a risk saying this to him, but the fact that a killer broke into my room and planted a murder weapon makes it worth it.
He turns to me, his eyes scanning my face as he seems to consider what he wants to say.
“I think it’s best if I leave. If you need legal counsel, my office can recommend someone.”
And then he’s gone.
“Shit,” Deacon says.
“Was calling him the right thing to do?” I sink down on the bed.
“Who the hell knows? But I do think he’s a stand-up guy.
And I don’t think he’ll let you take the fall for this if it means Camille gets in trouble too.
” Deacon moves closer, pulling me to stand.
“Let’s do this, get what you need from here and bring it to my room.
We’ll get you settled in there. I can stay in here tonight if that makes you more comfortable. ”
“Okay.”
We dig around for my phone charger, my favorite pillow, some pajamas.
My room is a complete disaster. My sadness turns to anger.
Not only was I violated by whoever planted that knife but also by the cops who tore apart my room.
Once I have everything I need, we walk upstairs to his room.
I crawl in his bed while he plugs in my charger.
“What do we do?” I should probably correct that to What should I do, but he doesn’t seem phased.
“Not much tonight. Try to get some rest and we’ll make a plan tomorrow. I’m going to take a quick shower and then I’ll head down to your room.”
I watch as he gathers some clean clothes from his closet to take into the bathroom with him, and in that instant, I’m not only angry about someone trying to pin Ben’s murder on me, I’m angry someone took away a night with Deacon that I was looking forward to.
It’s the worst possible time to start something with him, but the one thing I’ve learned is not to wait for what you want because you never know how long you have to get it.
He’s being delicate with me, which is really sweet. But it’s not what I want right now.
Without overthinking it, I throw off the covers, shed my clothes, and join Deacon in the shower.