pull the door closed.
She couldn’t have known about the pills in Dad’s top drawer, but she could still be lying. I have no reason to believe her, despite how things have changed between us.
Perhaps because things have changed.
Something keeps bugging me about yesterday. I’d heard Dad in the hallway clear as day…but he’d have to have walked past Candy’s door to get to the stairs.
Why the hell hadn’t she warned me? Had she wanted him to catch me in his office?
I hid.
I know my suspicion is getting out of control again. It’s like a fucking see-saw sometimes. People say things, I believe them. The next day, everyone was lying.
Sure, I could be imagining it, but that doesn’t change the fact that some things just don’t add up.
Discrepancies.
If this is real, if my father did what Candy’s accusing him of…then he needs to be brought to justice.
I can’t do that, but the cops can.
And maybe, just maybe, this will clear up everything. Even those other discrepancies…the ones that had him at the station yesterday.
Because if my dad hurt Candy…if he had anything to do with Diana’s disappearance, or Emma’s accident…
Then he has to pay.
Chapter Fifty
Candy
The cops make us wait in a small room where the recycled air reeks of Freon. It’s cold in here, and I keep wishing I could move closer to Josiah so he’d hold me and keep me warm.
Instead, I hug myself and bounce my legs, trying to warm myself and get rid of the nervous tension spreading through my body.
A man in plain clothes opens the door and steps halfway in. Before he closes it, he holds a hushed conversation with someone outside. It shouldn’t, but that makes me nervous as hell. Not just the way he couldn’t give a shit about letting us wait, but how he keeps his voice super low so we can’t hear what he’s saying.
A piece of nail comes off in my mouth. I hurriedly shove my hand between my thighs. I try and keep it there this time, just like I try not to keep looking in Josiah’s direction.
He could have been waiting at a bus stop for all the emotion on his face. If anything, it looks like he zoned out the moment we set foot in this room.
Interrogation room.
But it’s not.
It can’t be.
We’re not the suspects here.
Josiah just asked to speak to the detective handling Emma’s case. When the police guy at reception asked our names, he only said, ‘Tell him it’s Wayne Bale’s kid.”
Damn it, my thumb’s in my mouth again. I tangle my fingers together and keep them on the table where I can see them.
The detective finally ends his conversation and steps into the room, giving us each a perfunctory smile that fades almost as soon as it arrives, and closes the door behind him.
“Detective Reed,” he says, holding out his hand to Josiah.
“Josiah.” Josiah shakes his hand. “Candy,” he says, pointing a thumb at me.
I don’t move, and I ignore the hand stuck out at me. It’s not that I’m being rude, I just don’t trust myself not to tremble like I’ve got epilepsy.
Reed sighs as he sits, as if his day thus far has been a long and taxing one. It’s not even eleven yet, so I can’t imagine being around this guy in the afternoon.
“I told your father I didn’t have to see you,” he says, shaking his head. “But Wayne Bale sure wasn’t in the back of the queue when they were handing out stubbornness.”
“That’s not why we’re here.” Josiah sits forward and rubs his palms over his jeans.
My stomach does a somersault. And here I thought he was calm.
“Yes?” Reed asks, sounding bored already.
“Uh…my dad…” Josiah cuts off. Silence filters into the room.
I risk looking up, and wish I hadn’t. They’re both staring at me. Josiah lifts his eyebrows, and then points at Reed with his chin.
“Kids,” Reed says through a sigh. “I have a busy day, so if you could just—”
I open my mouth, but the door opens before I can say anything, simultaneously cutting off Reed’s sentence.
A man wearing a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit and a navy-blue tie steps into the room. “Morning, Detective.” His eyes dart first to Josiah, then to me. “Jo.” He pauses. “Candace, yes?”
“Mr. Dench,” Josiah says, rushing to his feet. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to represent my client,” Dench says, as if Josiah was being a complete idiot for not knowing it. “Now, Detective, I do hope you haven’t begun questioning yet?”
“I