Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (20 page)

Not to mention, she probably isn’t the only person I can talk to here. This room will likely be filled with people who knew Wally, maybe even a different Wally than the one I was acquainted with, who can give me some kind of insight into why he was killed or who may be responsible.

“What are you doin’ here?”

The sound of my brother’s voice has me turning around. Brody is getting out of the police cruiser, but Trent is standing in front of it with his hands on his hips. I don’t need to guess who asked that question.

“I’m here to support Gianna,” I answer.
Please, let her not be arrested.
I’m going to look like a fucking potato head if she has been.

“Oh, I’m sure you are.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Trent walks past me. “It means I don’t believe you.”

“Why would you believe me? You’re cynical enough that you’re nailing your best friend’s mother for murder.”

“Don’t.” He turns and points his finger at me. “Don’t even go there, Noelle. I told you to keep your nose out of my investigation. I’m not looking to ‘nail’ anyone unless they’re guilty, and unless you missed the memo, she looks hella guilty right now.”

“I’m not getting involved in your fucking investigation.” What? I’m not. I’m involved in my own. “And, for your information, I got the memo. I got the most recent one too. Why do you think I’m here?”

Trent stops in front of the door to the funeral home and meets my eyes. “I think you’re here to meddle. I think you’re here to ask questions you shouldn’t be and talk to people you have no business talking to.”

“Well”—I drag the word out—“you think wrong. Contrary to what you believe, Trent, I’m not here to impede your investigation or get in your way. I’m here to support someone who just lost her ex-husband, and whether you think she’s guilty of his murder or not, take your damn arrogant personality hat you have on and shit in it. You’re not an asshole, so stop acting like one. People upstairs have lost their ex-husband, their friend, their boyfriend, and their father. Maybe even their brother, uncle, or any other family member. Stop being a prize prick.”

“She’s right,” Brody adds, coming up behind me and shoving his hands in his pockets. “You are being a fucking prick.”

“Thanks, Brodes.”

“You’re welcome, sis.”

Trent says nothing in response, but the hardness in his eyes disappears a little, and the compassionate guy that I know is inside him comes to the surface. Still, though, he doesn’t apologize or acknowledge his behavior. He pushes the door open and disappears inside, leaving me and Brody standing on the top step outside.

“Thanks for tearing him a new asshole. You did it way less violently than I was plannin’ on.”

I turn to Brody. “Really? He’s that bad?”

He shrugs and opens the door, holding it for me. “He’s torn between his sense of duty to the law and his personal relationships with those involved. I don’t know what Sheriff was thinking, putting him in charge of this case. He blasted Drake for his personal involvement, but Trent is also personally involved.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Who knows? You ever questioned Sheriff Bates?”

“No, but it sounds like I shouldn’t.”

“Mmhmm.” Brody shuts the door and leads me to the stairs. “Drake lost his shit when Sheriff told him he couldn’t even access case files. They got into such an argument that they almost roused the occupants of the graveyard. Not to mention potentially caused an earthquake.”

“Wow.” He didn’t tell me that part now, did he? Huh. “I can’t imagine what that was like.”

“Hilarious.” He smirks, glancing at me. He stops me before we reach the hall that would lead to the viewing room. “Are you really here for Gianna?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you questioning me?”

“Did it sound like a question?”

“I’m not involved in the investigation, Brodes. Can you take that and leave it? Please?”

He stares at me for the longest moment. His jaw ticks, presumably with his desire to argue with me. He can—I’m not bothered. I really don’t care, because I’m not telling him a thing. He and I might be closer than we are to Trent and Dev, but that doesn’t matter. He’d tell Trent out of his own sense of duty, and boom. Then Drake will know.

“Fine,” he finally relents, walking down the hall. “But, if you do anything in here other than hold Gianna’s hand and comfort her, I’m telling Mom.”

“That was so much scarier when I was six.” I roll my eyes and follow him into the room.

It smells like death.
Except this death is coated in makeup and chemicals and falseness.

The casket is at the back of the room, surrounded by elaborate bunches of white roses and lilies. The bleakness of the color is broken by various greenery, but my eyes are drawn to the mahogany box.

The top is open.

Well.

“Are you all right?” Brody whispers to me.

“I... Yeah. Just don’t make me go over there.”

“Sorry. Gianna’s there. You’re gonna have to if you don’t want Trent to think you’re here for any other reason than supporting her.” He winks at me, kisses the top of my head, and crosses the room to where she’s standing.

Fuck. He’s onto me.

Who am I kidding? They’re all onto me. They just don’t know it.

Brody embraces Gianna at the foot of the casket, and they exchange a few brief words. I swallow hard as I gather the courage to cross the room and stand by her side. It’s harder than you’d think. I wish I hadn’t put on such a brave face when it came to saying that I’d come. I should have made an agreement that stated that I wouldn’t have to see the body.

But doing things you don’t wanna do and all that. Shit, I’ve spent too much time pinning motivational bullshit on Pinterest.

“You came,” she says softly as I come up behind her.

“Of course I did.” I take her hand and squeeze her fingers. “How are you?”

“Numb.” Her shoulders rise and fall with her deep breath. “I didn’t want to believe it... He wasn’t perfect, you know? He was a pretty crappy husband, but I loved him once. We kept our friendship, and now... I guess I kept hoping he’d walk through my front door and ask me if I had a beer while we chatted. Seeing him like this...”

“It’s hitting home that it won’t happen,” I whisper.

My eyes, unbidden, travel along the casket and across the body lying peacefully inside it. Surrounded by off-white satin, Wally’s dressed in a black suit with a crisp, white shirt, and his hands are clasped over his stomach. The lines etched into the skin of his face seem smoother than they were when he was alive, and with his mouth closed and his eyes shut, he looks like he’s sleeping. Even with his graying hair perfectly swept over to the side.

“I keep thinking he’ll wake up.” Gianna’s voice gets thick, and she puts her fingertips on the edge of the casket. “Like he’s playing a practical joke and will wake up any second, laughing and yelling that he got us all.”

I smile sadly. “That would be nice, huh?”

“Yes. It sure would.” She lets out a sharp exhale and steps back from it. “Let’s move on. Standing in front of him and thinking of days gone by isn’t gonna help anyone. Least of all him.”

We move to the chairs lined along the wall and take a seat. Several people wearing black are standing in groups in front of us. Some are chatting, while others are silent, holding glasses, and others are moving to the casket. Many are holding small bunches of flowers, and I find myself casting my gaze throughout the room in search of the one person I truly want to talk with.

“You’re looking for Kat.”

I glance at Gianna. “Sorry. I’m just desperate to get a little more information, and I think she’s probably the only person left who can help me with that.”

“Don’t worry. She’s the girl with the copper hair standing by the door. It’s in a bun—she’s wearing that skirt suit.”

“I see her,” I say, instantly zeroing in on her. “She’s pretty.”

“On the outside.” Gianna smiles. “Not always so much on the inside, but I love her.”

“Have you seen her since she’s been here?”

“Nope. We haven’t spoken today yet, either, but she knows we’re here. She said she’s happy to talk to you if she can help find out who really did this.”

“She doesn’t think you did?”

A small laugh leaves her. “No,
cara.
She knows I didn’t. The only people who do think that are the police, and that’s exactly why your brother is here right now. I’m headed to speak with Sheriff Bates right after I’ve said goodbye to Wally.”

So she does know.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scolds me with a smile. “They’re doing their job. They’re doing it incorrectly, but they’re doing it. However, I believe you are doing yours correctly and will get the right answers.”

Well, at least someone believes in me, right? I guess someone has to, because fuck knows I don’t think I’m going to be able to solve this case.

Wait.

What kind of attitude is that? Oh—it’s the attitude of someone who has their crazy-ass grandmother taking over their house and who didn’t get to eat a second cupcake before coming to look at a dead guy. No wonder I’m so skeptical of my own skills today.

I’m Noelle fucking Bond, and nothing gets past me. Except murderers until the very last minute, but they still don’t get past me.

“Can you introduce me to Kat now? I know she needs to visit with everyone, but I’d really like to speak with her, and the longer I sit here, the less time I have to deal with everything.” I turn to Gianna. “I’d love to spend all day here with you, but I can’t. Not if you’re going to see Bates this afternoon. I don’t know how implicating the evidence is, just that it exists.” Because Jason still hasn’t fucking called me, the shithead.

“Of course. Come.” She takes my hand and pulls me across the room. She catches Kat’s eye, and she excuses herself from the couple she was talking to to come to us. “Kat.” Gianna releases me to embrace her. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s so good to see you again so soon, Gianna.” Kat steps back, holding Gi’s hands. “How are you?”

“I’m doing, doll. How are you?”

“Alive.” She smiles and looks down. “More than Dad can say.”

An awkward silence hovers for a moment before Gianna speaks again.

“Kat, this is Noelle Bond. She’s helping me with my problem.”

“So lovely to meet you, Ms. Bond.” Kat looks up and with striking, blue eyes, meets my gaze. She holds her hand out. “Thank you so much for helping out. It means a lot to me too.”

“Please, call me Noelle. And it’s my pleasure to help. The police force can be slightly narrow-minded on occasions like this.” I shake her hand. “Do you have five minutes to chat, or is it easier for us to speak later?”

“Now is great. Let’s take a seat and I’ll see if I can help you at all.”

Together, we all move toward the chairs we were just sitting on.

Kat crosses one leg over the other and looks at me. “What do you need to know?”

“You knew your father and his personal life better than anyone. I need to know anything you can tell me that may help me pinpoint his death on someone other than Gianna.”

Kat takes a deep breath and clasps her hands in her lap. “You know, I’ve thought about it a lot. Ever since I got the phone call, I’ve played out every memory I have of me and Dad, looking for...something. I don’t know. Just one little thing that could help. But...everyone loved him. He was that kind of guy, you know? The life of the party and the soul of the family. I don’t remember anyone hating him ever. I don’t even think I’ve processed the fact that someone deliberately ended his life. I’m on autopilot, but I have no idea when I’m going to run out of fuel.”

“You do what you can.” I pat her hand and offer a reassuring smile. This isn’t helping me at all.

“Kat?” A young gentleman—well, I say young, but he’s probably around my age—approaches us. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to check on her.”

“No interruption at all.” I turn my smile on him.

“I’m okay,” Kat reassures him. “Carlos, this is Noelle Bond and my stepmother, Gianna. Noelle is helping to clear her name. Kat, Gianna, this is Carlos, a friend I know from D.C. He kindly flew with me to be my shoulder to cry on this weekend.”

I stand and offer him my hand. “How sweet. It’s lovely to meet you, Carlos.”

“And you,” he drawls, shaking my hand with a strong grip. It almost feels like a warning to be gentle with her, so I tighten my own hold on his fingers until he relents.

Nice try, man. Better luck intimidating the next woman.

“Carlos.” Gianna stands. “I’ve heard so much about you. Thank you so much for coming to support Kat.” Gianna skips his handshake and goes straight for the hug. “I hope it didn’t inconvenience you at all.”

“Never.” He puts his hand on Kat’s shoulder and squeezes. A little more affection shines in his eyes than would be usual for a “friend,” but Kat doesn’t seem to notice.

Methinks Carlos has himself a little crush.

“I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Gianna touches my arm then turns and meanders her way through the crowd of people.

“Did you know Wally at all, Carlos?” I face him and only now notice how tall he is.

He probably has an inch on Drake, although he’s leaner, but he’s very handsome. If you like the pretty boys. The man is wearing more hairspray than I am.

“We met once or twice, but very briefly. I work in the motor industry, so our paths crossed once or twice when Kat needed a little help identifying a car that could be saved.”

“What do you do? Sorry... I like to know things, but I don’t know much about cars except how to drive them.”

Carlos chuckles. “No bother. I actually run a garage. I remodel old cars in my spare time.”

“He’s actually done a couple for me that I was able to sell without having them taken to the store in Houston,” Kat adds, standing. “Listen, Noelle. You’re right. I know my father better than anyone. He was a good man, but he was ruthless. Gianna wouldn’t want to hear this, but he has a lot of enemies. Bidding and finding these cars isn’t as easy as people think. Dad has undercut more than one person in his life, and those cars he undercut on, he made a ton of money on. I can’t think of anyone who’d want him dead, and even if I could, I wouldn’t know their names, but I know there are probably several people who wouldn’t complain if he was hurt. You don’t run a successful business without pissing a few people off. He did.”