Escape Theory - By Margaux Froley Page 0,98

Devon asked. Cleo tilted her head at Devon. “Right, you took it. Sorry, forgot who I was speaking to.”

“Don’t do it again,” Cleo playfully slapped Devon’s arm. “But, it was the least I could do. You put yourself out there for me, for Matt and Isla and Hutch. Seemed like someone needed to return the favor.”

“Thanks,” Devon said. She twirled the silver pen between her fingers. “I didn’t exactly solve your kleptomania though, did I?”

“Oh no, you were totally right. Of course it’s for attention, but not like I was going to admit that to you. Come on, let’s get some sleep. We’ll get Nikolai to take us back to the hill tomorrow morning.”

THE NEXT MORNING, DEVON found the black Rover parked in the driveway in front of Reed’s guest house, but no one answered the door when she knocked.

“They should have a sign that says ‘Gone Surfing,’ or ‘Surfs Up,’ ” a hungover Cleo croaked behind her Jackie O sunglasses from the backseat of the town car. These were the first words she’d spoken since they’d gotten in the car an hour ago. “Or maybe, ‘Life’s a Beach and then you Die.’ ”

The security camera above the front door gave Devon an idea. “Let’s try the main house.” The car wound higher up the driveway. The guest house was bigger and more beautiful than her own house, it was hard to imagine something more. But when it swept into view with its three stories and multiple chimneys, the pointed roof and double wraparound balconies … all she could think was that it was a palace. A true palace. She could see a few of the windows had blue and amber stained glass designs. A massive redwood tree grew through the middle of the front porch; Devon couldn’t be sure if the tree or the house was in that spot first.

“Merde,” Cleo whispered as the car stopped at the front door. Devon hopped out. Cleo jabbed a finger at a security camera above the door. It swiveled toward them. Someone was home, and someone was watching.

Devon’s knees felt shaky. Well. No point in trying to hide anymore. She forced herself to march up the front walk.

Bodhi opened the door before Devon had a chance to knock. “We were wondering if we’d been ditched or what.”

“I need to talk to you.” Devon said.

“We need to talk to you,” Cleo chimed in, appearing behind them. Devon’s shoulders sagged. Wouldn’t Cleo be happier back at the Four Seasons? “What? You really think I’m going to walk away from this? All the action’s about to go down.”

“What’s going on?” Bodhi asked.

“Is Raven around?” Devon peered into the room behind Bodhi. She could see that the hallway led to a massive living room with one wall of windows facing the vineyard.

“Come on in. She’s surfing. Be back soon.” He eyed Cleo up and down. “Bodhi,” he said, extending a hand.

“Cleo,” she replied, shaking it. “Nice dreads, Bodhi.”

“You should probably get Reed, too,” Devon mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Nice to see you, too, Devon.” Bodhi shook his head. He kicked off his checkered Vans at the bottom of the carpeted stairs and disappeared upstairs.

Cleo made herself right at home, lounging on an enormous couch with faded green and blue plaid cushions. “Ow, jeez. This thing is probably older than I am.” Devon wasn’t paying attention though. She spied an end table with framed photos. A young Hutch, smiling on the beach next to a large surfboard. Reed and Athena in an old black and white photo no bigger than a playing card. Reed, standing on a redwood tree stump wider than his outstretched arm. But where was the rest of the family? Eric? Hutch and Eric’s dad, Bill?

“Devon? I thought that was you down at the guest house,” Reed called from upstairs. With Bodhi at one arm and his wrinkled hand on the banister, Reed made his way down slowly. “And who is this young woman?”

“Cleo Lambert, Mr. Hutchins,” Cleo said. She stood up and shook Reed’s hand.

“Well, Cleo. Welcome. If you’re with Devon we’re happy to have you.” Reed took a seat in a thick leather chair and draped a blanket over his lap. “So. Shall we proceed with or without Raven?”

Bodhi looked to the door one more time and at Devon, his eyebrows narrowing slightly. “She’ll get here when she gets here,” Bodhi said. He avoided eye contact with Devon and took a seat in a chair farthest from her. He seemed to be mad. Maybe

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