Twisted Palace (7 page)

“
W
hat nun did
you kill for that outfit?” Easton asks when I climb into his pickup early Saturday morning.

I slap the dashboard. “Shut up and drive.”

He obediently puts the truck in gear and peels down the driveway toward the massive steel gates that block the mansion from the main road. “Why? Who’s after us? Is it Steve?”

Even though Steve is now living with Dinah in their suite of hotel rooms at the Hallow Oaks, he’s still lurking around the mansion all the time. He puts Callum in a good mood, but I feel awkward around him and try to avoid spending time with him. I guess that hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice.

“It’s Reed,” I reply. “He didn’t want me to go today.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t thrilled about me going, either.”

I glance out the back window to make sure Reed isn’t running after the truck or anything. He was unhappy when I left, but like I told him the other night, too bad. I plan on scoping out every single person who attends Brooke’s service today.

Besides, someone needs to be there with Callum today while his fiancée is being buried. I can’t let him do that alone, and since Reed is out of the question and the twins refused, that leaves me and Easton. Callum went on ahead of us with his driver, Durand, because he has business in the city after the service.

“So what’d you do? Sex him into submission? Is he passed out in orgasmic bliss?”

“Shut up.” I find my girl power mix on my phone and plug the music in.

But that doesn’t silence Easton. Instead, he just shouts over the lyrics. “Are you still not putting out? Poor guy’s balls are probably purple by now.”

“I’m not talking about my sex life with you,” I inform him, and turn the music up even higher.

Easton spends the next five miles laughing.

The sad truth is, Reed’s the one who’s torturing us. For the last three nights, he’s slept in my bed again and we’ve fooled around a ton. He’s fine with me touching him everywhere. He loves it when I go down on him and he’s equally generous in return. Heck, he’d spend
hours
with his head between my legs if I let him. But the final deed? That’s off the table until “this Brooke thing,” as he calls it, isn’t hanging over our heads.

I’m in a weird state of satisfaction and anticipation. Reed’s giving me nearly everything, but it’s not enough. Still, I know that if our situations were reserved, he’d totally respect my wishes. So I have to respect his. Which sucks.

When we arrive at the funeral home, Callum is waiting for us at the entrance. He’s wearing a black suit that probably cost more than my car, and his hair is slicked back away from his face, which makes him look younger.

“You didn’t have to wait for us,” I say when we reach him.

He shakes his head. “You heard Halston—we need to show family unity. So if we’re going to be here together, then everyone will leave believing we’re a happy, non-guilty group.”

I don’t say it out loud, but I’m pretty sure no one in there is going to be impressed with a Royal show of strength, considering we’re all members of the alleged murderer’s family.

The three of us enter the somber-looking building, and Callum leads us to an arched doorway to our left. Inside is a small chapel with rows of polished wooden pews, a raised area with a podium, and…

A casket.

My pulse speeds up at the sight. Oh my God. I can’t believe Brooke is actually in there.

As a morbid thought occurs to me, I stand on my tiptoes to whisper in Callum’s ear. “Did they do an autopsy on her?”

He responds with a grim nod. “Results haven’t come back yet.” He pauses. “I assume they’ll conduct DNA testing on the, ah, fetus, as well.”

The thought makes me sick, because for the first time since this all started, it suddenly occurs to me that
two
people died in that penthouse. Brooke…and an innocent baby.

Swallowing a rush of bile, I force my gaze away from the sleek black box. Instead, I stare at the huge framed photograph that sits on an easel beside it.

Brooke might have been an awful person, but even I can’t deny that she was beautiful. The picture they picked shows a smiling Brooke in a pretty patterned sundress. Her blonde hair is loose and her blue eyes are sparkling as she beams at the camera. She looks gorgeous.

“Shit. This is depressing,” Easton mumbles.

It totally is.

I was so poor growing up that I couldn’t afford a funeral for my mom. The memorial service was twice the cost of the cremation, so I decided not to have a service. No one would’ve attended it anyway. Mom would’ve liked it, though.

“Coming?” Easton prompts, nodding his head toward the front.

I follow his gaze to the casket. It’s open, but I refuse to go up. So I shake my head and find a seat near the middle while Easton ambles up the center aisle, hands tucked into his pockets. His suit coat strains across his broad shoulders as he leans forward. I wonder what he sees.

Glancing around the room, I’m a bit surprised by the turnout. Or rather, the lack of turnout. There are fewer than ten people in attendance. I guess Brooke really didn’t have any friends.

“
Get out
!”

I jerk at the sound of Dinah’s high-pitched wail. Well, Brooke had one friend, at least.

It takes a second to register that Dinah is speaking to
us
. She’s glaring daggers at me and Easton, who’s just coming back from the casket.

“This is shameful!” she screams, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so unhinged before. Her face is one red splotch, her green eyes wild with outrage. “You Royals don’t belong here! And
you—
”

She’s talking to me now.

“—you’re not even family! Get out! All of you!”

I don’t know what not-guilty looks like, but I’m putting Dinah at the top of my suspects list. A woman who’d blackmail some poor guy into her bed is a woman who’d do other terrible things.

Callum stalks over, a hard look in his eyes. Steve, who’s in a similar black suit, tails him. Steve’s gaze flicks at my black sack of a dress that I found on the first sale rack at the mall department store. It’s two sizes too big, but the only other black dress I have is a body-con one from my mother. That was absolutely too morbid—and much too sexy—to wear to a funeral.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Callum says tightly. “In fact, we have more right to be here than you, Dinah. I was engaged to marry her, for Pete’s sake.”

“You didn’t even love her,” Dinah growls. She’s trembling so violently that her entire body is swaying. “She was nothing but a sex toy for you!”

My gaze darts around the room to see if anyone heard that.

They all did. Every single pair of eyes is glued to this confrontation, including the minister’s. He’s frowning at us from the podium, and I’m not the only one who notices.

“Dinah.” Steve’s voice is low and more commanding than I’ve ever heard it. Usually he speaks in an easygoing manner, but not right now. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

“I don’t care!” she roars. “They don’t belong here! She was
my
friend! She was like a sister to me!”

“She was Callum’s fiancée,” Steve snaps. “Whatever feelings he may or may not have had for her, we know what
her
feelings were. She loved Callum. She’d want him here.”

That shuts Dinah up. For about half a second. Then she aims her furious gaze at me. “Well,
she
doesn’t belong here, then!”

Steve’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits. “Like hell she doesn’t. Ella’s my daughter.”

“She’s been your daughter for all of five minutes! I’m your goddamn
wife
!”

The minister clears his throat. Loudly. I guess he doesn’t appreciate her taking the Lord’s name in vain in the middle of a chapel.

“You’re acting like a child,” Steve says harshly. “And you’re embarrassing yourself. So I suggest you sit down before you’re the one who gets thrown out of here.”

That shuts her up for good. With a thunderous glower in our direction, she stomps to the front of the room and slams her ass down on a pew.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve apologizes, but he’s only looking at me. “She’s a little…emotional.”

Easton snorts softly, as if to say “A
little
?”

Callum gives a curt nod. “Let’s just sit down. The service is about to begin.”

I breathe in relief when Steve walks away to join his horrible wife. I’m glad he’s not sitting with us. Every time someone reminds me that I’m his daughter, my discomfort skyrockets.

To my surprise, Callum abandons us, too, settling onto a front-row pew on the opposite aisle of the O’Hallorans.

“He’s giving a speech,” Easton tells me.

My eyebrows soar. “Seriously?”

“He was her fiancé,” is the shrugged response.

Right. I keep forgetting it’s not public knowledge that Callum hated Brooke by the end of their destructive relationship.

“It’d look suspicious if he—ah, fuck.” Easton stops abruptly, his gaze swinging to the right.

Tension coils in my neck when I see what made him curse. The police detective who came to Astor Park earlier this week—Cousins?—has entered the chapel. A short, dark-haired woman is at his side. They both have shiny gold badges clipped to their belts.

As uneasy as their presence makes me, I can’t help but feel a burst of triumph. I wish Reed were here so I could say,
See! The cops are here because they also think the killer might show up!

“They better not try to interview us,” I mumble to Easton as I scrutinize the guests.

One of them could be the killer. My gaze pauses on the back of Callum’s head. He had motive, but there’s no way he would let his son take the heat for a crime he committed. Plus, Callum was in D.C. with us.

My gaze moves to Steve. But what would be the motive? If it was Dinah in the casket, he’d be my prime suspect, but he’s been gone for nine months, which means there’s no way he could’ve been the father of Brooke’s baby. I dismiss him.

The other handful of people, I don’t know. It must be one of them. But who?

“Dad’s lawyers are still stalling about that,” Easton mumbles back. “If it happens, it’ll be next week. They talked to Wade, though.”

I suck in a breath. “They did?” I wonder why Val didn’t say anything, but then I think, when would she have had the opportunity?

I’ve barely spent any time with my best friend since this whole mess began. I know she misses me, and I miss her, too, but it’s hard to hang out and gossip and have a good time when life is so screwed up right now.

“They asked him all these questions about Reed’s fighting,” Easton confesses. “And about all the chicks Reed’s been with.”

“What the hell? Why is that important?” I’m oddly resentful about that. I don’t like the idea of these cops dissecting Reed’s previous relationships. Or his current one with me.

“I don’t know. Just telling you what Wade said. That was pretty much it. They didn’t even talk to him about Brooke or—” He halts again. “Okay, seriously? This is just weird.”

When I turn again, this time it’s to find Gideon walking in our direction.

Easton mutters to me out of the side of his mouth. “Why is Gid here? Who drives three hours to attend a funeral of some bitch he couldn’t even stand?”

“I asked him to come,” I admit.

He gapes at me. “Why?”

“Because I need to talk to him.” I don’t offer any other details, and Easton doesn’t have time to cross-examine me, because Gideon reaches us.

“Hey,” the eldest Royal brother murmurs. His eyes aren’t on us, though. He’s staring at Brooke’s casket.

Is he imagining Dinah there? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was. Steve’s wife has been blackmailing Gideon for six months, maybe longer.

I move down to make some space, and he sits beside Easton. Gideon’s a Royal anomaly. He’s little thinner than his younger brothers, and his hair isn’t as dark. He has those blue, blue eyes, though.

“How are classes?” I ask awkwardly.

“Fine.”

I haven’t spent much time with Gideon at all because he goes to college a few hours away. I only know a handful of things about him. He’s a swimmer. He dated Savannah Montgomery. He’s sleeping with or has slept with Dinah. He sends dirty pictures to his girlfriend.

If Gideon would kill anyone, it’d be Dinah.

But…Dinah and Brooke look similar. They both have blonde hair styled in that magazine cover blow-out fashion. They’re both skinny as sticks with huge racks. From the back, they could easily be mistaken for sisters.

“Thanks for coming,” I tell him. Covertly, I study his face, which is hard and tense. Is that what guilt looks like?

“Still not sure why you summoned me,” is the terse reply.

I hesitate. “Can you stick around after the service? It feels weird discussing stuff while…” I nod toward the enormous picture of Brooke.

He nods back. “Yeah. We can talk after.”

Easton sighs, also staring at the photo. “I hate funerals.”

“I’ve never been to one before,” I confess.

“What about your mom?” he asks with a frown.

“Didn’t have the money for it. I was able to pay for a cremation and then I took her ashes and threw them in the ocean.”

Gideon turns to me with surprised eyes at the same time that Easton says, “No way.”

“Yes way,” I say, unsure of why they’re both staring at me.

“We spread our mom’s ashes in the Atlantic,” Gideon says quietly.

“Dad was going to bury her, but the twins were freaked out about worms eating their way into the coffin. They watched some Discovery Channel special on it or some shit. So he caved and agreed to the cremation.” A genuine smile spreads across Easton’s face, not the cocky fake grin he constantly wears, but a soft, honest one. “We took the urn out and waited for the sun to rise because mornings were her favorite. At first, there was no wind and the water was like glass.”

Gideon picks up the story. “But the minute the ashes hit the water, a huge gust came out of nowhere and the tide rolled out so far I swear I could’ve walked a mile without the sea hitting my knees.”

Easton nods. “It was like the ocean wanted her.”

We sit silently for a moment, thinking about our own losses. The grief over my mom’s death doesn’t feel so sharp today, not while I’m sandwiched between the broad shoulders of the two Royal brothers.