RONAN “Now, now, detective…?” My right brow flicks up, my fingers are interlocked merely inches away from my face as I rest my back against the soft leather of my favorite sitting room sofa. She struggles with biting her lip for what? The tenth time? It’s growing harder to tell if it’s mere irritation or something else. My money is on the former. She doesn’t seem like the type. “Caroline,” she says, head held high with the same false sense of bravado I’ve seen in her colleagues. They’re all the same people. Monolith. Boring. My gaze drops to the name badge on her neatly pressed black suit. “Caroline Walters.” She continues, as if to explain the relationship between the first name she had uttered and the one on her badge. The faintest smile brims at my mouth. “Caroline Walters. You and your men have questioned my brothers and I several times across the board. And we’ve complied, even followed you to the station. You promised to be discreet, but a picture somehow made it to the news.” Her response is tight lipped. “I must apologize for that.” “Don’t apologize,” Malachi retorts. He’s seated beside Jaxon at the other end of the living room. His displeasure is evident in those grey eyes of his. “Listen to us and do your job.” “I agree.” Jaxon nods. She heaves an exasperated sigh, leaning out of the sofa she’s seated on, until she rests on the edge. “I’m really sorry for any inconvenience this must have caused you, but you must understand that I’m just doing my job…” Not well enough, or we will all be in cuffs by now. “…which is checking the facts. And right now, the fact is that he disappeared fifteen years ago, on the same day your mother was found dead, only to return and die shortly after.” Mother’s dead body flashes in my head, I fight the urge to frown. “Perhaps the very thing he was running away from finally caught him?” I ask, a smile plastered on my face at the thought of it all. Eyes narrow into slits as he locks her gaze on me. “You three?” Baiting us, I see. Jaxon chuckles, “Karma.” Hanging Luke over a crane was a last minute improvisation I very much enjoyed. I still can’t help the glee on my face at the thought of it. Now, it might not be exactly how mum was found hanging from the ceiling, but we could make do with it. You live by the sword? Be prepared to die by it. She looks away from me, to my youngest brother. “No one else would have a reason to hurt him. And you said he was blackmailing you…” “Begging for money,” Malachi corrects her. “There’s no one in this world bold enough to blackmail us, and frankly,” he pauses and stretches his right arm over the sofa. “There’s nothing in this world to blackmail us about.” She nods, it’s half-assed. “Right. And shortly after that, he dies? You must see why I’m here.” I check the watch on my right wrist. This is becoming long and very boring. We enjoyed the thrill of it at first, being watched by careful, judging—dare I say jealous—eyes that believe…really believe they had the ability to pry things out of people. It’s almost laughable. Not a single person in this world can comprehend the human mind. “I assure you, detective. If we really made Luke HawkThorne disappear, we wouldn’t make such a fuss about it. Our stock prices have taken a hit since all this,” I finally speak. Someone has to wrap this up. “Why make ourselves sit here and listen to all this?” She stays silent, eyes darting between the three of us over and over again. Is this her way of waiting to see if any of us would slip? Maybe an expression, or even a hitched breath she could hold onto? Fixate on? Capitalize on? If this is the best we have in Durmont, the average citizens are in serious danger. I’ve had enough. I rise from my seat. We have to go meet Sarah. We were just about to leave when she came in. I’ve missed our kitten so much, my bones are aching. Kevin says she was discharged last night. It’s important to give her some time to rest, but not too much time before the senator’s bastard comes snooping around. “If that’ll be all, detective, we must really be on our way now.” She purses her lips, glossy and pale—without any color, and stands to her feet. I take out a card from my breast pocket and hand it out to her. She looks down at it, then slowly traces her gaze back to up. “What is this?” “Our card,” I respond. “Call us when you get the killer. We owe them a handsome reward.” “So you wanted him dead?” “Are your parents alive, detective?” Malachi asks from across the room. Without looking at him, she nods. “Yes.” “Both of them?” “Yes.” He takes slow and steady steps towards her. “Did you ever see your mom get hit by your dad? Maybe a small push, or shove?” “That’s not relevant to…” The closer he gets, the further she moves away. A proud smile tugs at the corner of my lips. That’s him. That’s my boy. Malachi pauses merely inches away from me. Her eyes are wide, shoulders relax with relief. But when he leans forward, the tension returns. “We had to watch ours try to drown our mother in a bath tub, more than once. He would do unspeakable things to us when we tried to fight against him. So forgive me, if we’re not weeping about his imminent death.” He stands straight, giving her ample space to breathe. “It was nice having you around, detective. It’s a shame we honestly can’t say we want to see you again.” Jaxon is the one who nails the coffin. Now, she knows she needs to leave, and somehow solve this case without involving us in it. I wouldn’t waste my resources on something like Luke if I were her. There are real injustices to fight. What happened to Luke was nothing compared to what he truly deserves. She takes one last look around. “I’ll be in touch.” Then she heads for the door, and walks out. “That was fun.” Malachi laughs. His brooding aura now replaced with the coy one he’s always possessed. Things are slowly coming back to normal. I can feel it. All that remains now is Sarah. “The car’s ready boys, let’s go.” When my brothers and I knock on Sarah’s door, it’s with three of her favorite flowers wrapped with three of her best colors; pink, purple, and white. My silly heart is racing, just counting the seconds until she arrives at the door. I know a lot has changed since that night, even Jaxon seems quieter, more reserved. But I know we can come back from it. We will. It’s what we do. It finally opens, but it’s an empty space that greets us. My brows furrow. “What the…” “Down here, you assholes.” One look down, and there she is, wearing a pair of black shorts and an oversized white shirt, the shoulder ending where her sleeves should. Her flame of red hair is held up in a messy bun above her head, fiery strands falling to the front and sides of her face. How could we not love her?