Chapter 42
Forty-Two
JASPER
T he house is silent when I finally close the door to the garage. My feet are leaden, and there’s a headache pounding just behind my eyes and down my neck. My phone rings before I can dump it on the kitchen counter.
I answer without looking. “Jasper.”
My voice is as tired as the rest of me, but I don’t apologize for it.
“Mr. Montegue? This is Detective Forrest.”
My exhaustion fades between one breath and the next.
“I didn’t expect a call so soon,” I admit.
His laugh is nearly as tired as I feel. “Omegas being abused isn’t something we wait to handle during normal business hours.”
“I suppose I should be grateful for that,” I mutter.
Difficult to feel grateful when I don’t want to be dealing with this nightmare at all. My stomach is still tight with anxiety, my throat still raw from the bile I’d had to keep from surfacing while recounting everything that had happened with the officers that arrested Eric.
What had Rylan called him? Fuckboy Extraordinaire? I need to find out why he recognized the asshole.
The detective clears his throat. “I want you to know that I’m not a stranger to working high profile cases, Mr. Montegue.” His voice has gained a careful edge that has warning bells going off in my mind. “The notoriety and scrutiny that comes with them is within my wheelhouse to handle.”
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
“Isn’t there always?” He sighs. “The Fallon family is asking for this to stay as quiet as possible.”
Johnathan had told me as much. The less in the spotlight it was, the less likely Sienna would use it as some kind of ammunition for her own gain. His eyes had flashed when he’d said it, the anger so extreme I almost felt bad for the woman.
Until I thought about Violet’s shattered face as she realized we’d both been played by her.
The detective clears his throat, and I force myself to focus.
“The man’s official statement is that he stumbled upon her while she was trying to clean up in the bathroom. Another woman left the bathroom, and the smell of her heat was strong enough that he responded on instinct. She didn’t fight him until they were in the utility room. According to the hotel staff, there were no witnesses to any of this.”
Of fucking course not.
What if Dominic and Rylan hadn’t shown up when they did? I had no idea she was in trouble, didn’t even realize she was in heat when I could smell her in that hallway.
“The Fallons are content with this explanation.” The detective is neutral, but I can almost swear there’s a thread of frustration underlying the comment.
I lean against the counter and tip my head back.
“All right. It’s a decent explanation. I saw the way my own partners changed in the span of a heartbeat when they smelled her perfuming.” I close my eyes, remembering the shock cross Rylan’s face as we entered the hallway.
The man murmurs an agreement, and the line drops to an uneasy quiet. After a moment, he says, “I’ve done some looking into Ms. Fallon’s past since you were unsure of her previous heat cycling. It turns out she had a heat in March. She used the Haven. According to their records, she stayed for six days and was helped by two Alphas.”
March.
I count back the months, and my stomach drops. “That’s not long enough. It should have been in January at the earliest.”
The detective makes a noncommittal grunt.
Horror settles in my gut. “It was triggered?”
“It appears so.” The detective sighs, and the sound of rustling papers cuts through the phone.
“And her parents are content with not pushing for further information?” I ask.
It doesn’t make sense. Johnathan was beside himself. It was only the understanding that Violet had made it out of the hotel mostly unharmed and with Rylan that kept him from completely losing it. And when Kurt and Phillip find out?
Fuck, Kurt’s going to be livid .
“As they are not her immediate kin at this juncture, they have not been informed of the update.”
Oh God. Right. We’re matched. We're her immediate kin now.
I clear my throat. “Sorry. It’s still an adjustment.”
“I’ve been told those thirty days are a whirlwind,” he says, his voice filling with wry humor. He drops back to the important information. “The Alpha has been charged with assault and attempted forced bonding. He’s not fighting the charges, though I believe he expects to manage some kind of plea deal with the court given his cooperation with the investigation and it being his first offense.”
I grimace. “There’s no way in hell that dipshit is the one that drugged her.”
I don’t mean to say it, but it’s too fucking late for me to manage any kind of filter right now.
There’s a long, heavy pause.
“I’m inclined to agree with you, Mr. Montegue,” he says. “We are willing to keep the investigation open if it’s what you’re wanting.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that of course we want to get to the bottom of who set the love of my life up for being raped at a public event.
Detective Forrest continues before I can manage to say it, though, and his words cut through me with the precision of a blade and the iciness of the fucking Puget Sound.
“I want to warn you, though, that while we may be able to piece together what transpired, it’s quite likely that we will not be able to do so with enough substantive proof to lead to any sort of conviction in court.” A tapping cuts through the phone, like he’s messing with a pen. “Ms. Fallon’s testimony is likely our best information, but it will hold little weight in a trial given that she was already in the throes of the heat cycle, induced or not. She, for all intents and purposes, was impaired. Her information will be considered tainted.”
Fuck. Me.
“Did the asshole mention if he recognized the other woman leaving the bathroom?” I ask unable to keep the question to myself.
Violet had been feeling uneasy but was still cognizant when she left for the bathroom. What had happened while she was in there to push her over into the depths of the heat? And why had no one noticed her being followed into the bathroom? The rooftop was event access only. Someone would have noticed if a random dipshit had followed her in.
My chest tightens, a damning realization settling on me. My mind races, putting together pieces I’d rather not notice.
Sienna’s strangely indifferent demeanor toward me when I’d expected outright hostility or disdain, her comment about Violet being unchaperoned when I’d literally been holding her hand, her giving Violet a glass of white wine when even I knew it was one of her least favorite drinks.
“The description matches that of Mrs. Fallon.”
God fucking damn it.
It didn’t matter that Johnathan was doing what he could to keep all of this out of the spotlight. Sienna was already knee deep in the entire fucking mess of it.
Rage burns through me, though not nearly hot enough given my exhaustion.
I should talk with the others about what to do, about if they want any of this to be on open record. Violet’s word might not hold up in court, but it might end up being important later on that it was documented anyway. And keeping it on record means that Dominic will be less likely to turn around and involve his family if he feels so inclined.
Not that he will.
My stomach sours again.
I glance at the illuminated numbers on the microwave. Nearly two in the morning.
Realistically, they’re probably sleeping. And if they aren’t? There’s no way we’d be capable of having a conversation right now.
I clear my throat. “On record, we’re content to close the investigation if you feel that asshole will be convicted.”
Silence stretches on the other end of the line, and I have the sudden thought that maybe he knows who Dominic is and what his family is.
“I understand, Mr. Montegue,” he says, back to the careful neutral. “I’ll submit my report to the chief. As he’s confessed on record, he’ll absolutely face the justice system. I’ll be in contact regarding the trial.”
I drop my phone to the counter after a quick goodbye.
What kind of self-righteous asshole drugs their own daughter to force a bond with another Alpha?
No amount of twisting the question over in my mind gives a better answer than an asshole , so I give it up, leaving my phone in the kitchen as I head to my room and change out of the suit. The shirt I grab smells like Violet, and I breathe in her scent. No matter what the guys say, I can’t tell anything different between this scent and the one that greeted us in the hotel. Maybe it’s strength? But that could just be because it’s been a couple days since Violet wore this shirt.
Another stab of guilt hits me that I would’ve been helpless to keep her safe if Rylan and Dominic hadn’t gotten there in time. And there was no guarantee they were going to show up at all.
Damn. I really thought I’d gotten past my resentment of being a Beta at this point.
My bed is large and inviting, but I don’t drop into it, rubbing my eyes to keep the exhaustion from dropping me to my knees. The need to make sure the three of them are safe rides me hard, and I know I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve seen the three of them tucked away where Sienna can’t fucking reach them. When I see that Dominic’s door is open and his bed empty, I cross the house toward where her nest is tucked away.
The unassuming single piece of paperwork sits on the coffee table, but it might as well have a fucking spotlight on it. The single black signature stops me dead, my heart racing even as my stomach drops out.
No.