Page 136 of Hate So Deep

The only information that I have is from sparse news reports because no one cares about what Dirk did in the wake of the news that business mogul Sheila Stark tried to frame her daughter for murder.

The little I do know is that he was provided a court appointed lawyer. That’s it. I don’t even know if he’s out on bail and Colt is a locked fucking vault on that front.

I’ve been able to ignore the majority of this while I started my first semester of community college after giving in and getting my GED.

However, after I overheard Celia asking about Dirk yesterday, I finally decided to take matters into my own hands.

Unfortunately, Dirk doesn’t have the resources to put up money for bail which both saddens and frustrates me because when I begged my dad to do it, he refused, and I don’t have access to my own inheritance for another year.

I’m not stupid. Dirk had no reason to confess anything. No one was looking at him. He could have gotten away free, but he turned himself in to protect me.

I’m not sure why but I suspect it has to do with the police questioning me about being at the warehouse that night.

Since I had no recollection, I couldn’t answer their questions and Dirk’s confession pulled the heat from me and onto him.

I need to get Dirk out of that jail and then convince him to just go because if I don’t, I might lose my goddamn mind wondering if he’s okay.

I don’t understand why no one is willing to fight harder for Dirk’s release but I haven’t given up and this is how I find myself speaking with his father. Dirk may hate me for this, but I have to try.

“Now then,” Dr. Evans says once we’re in his office.

Despite the numerous times that I partied here, I’ve never been in this room. Apart from the desk, chair and a fancy painting hanging on the wall behind him, it’s devoid of any personality, just like the man staring back at me with a polite smile.

“I appreciate you taking the time to see me, Dr. Evans,” I say, assuming the persona my mother drilled into me the majority of my life.

If it’ll get me brownie points with this man, I’ll do it, although there’s something about his blank stare that leaves me ice freaking cold.

Dirk may bear a strong physical resemblance to his father but that’s where it ends. When Dirk looks at you with his deep, dark eyes, there’s passion, life…something that is missing from the man who’s standing before me wearing an odd smile.

“Of course, Miss Stark,” he says, inclining his head.

When an awkward silence follows, I lick my dry lips to sum up some spit and say, “I’m here about Dirk.”

“Hm,” he hums but doesn’t comment and I wave my hand, uneasy when his lips quirk into that weird grin again.

I’m not getting warm cozy feelings from this man but I’m hoping it’s only because we’re strangers and he’ll warm up once he realizes why I’m here.

So, with my proverbial fingers crossed, I say, “Look, Dr. Evans, I’m here because I’m worried about Dirk. I know bail was set and I was wondering…”

I trail off because he turns his back on me to walk behind his desk and stare at that stupid painting on the wall. It looks expensive but shit like that can be deceiving. Either way, it’s super fucking rude to ignore someone when they’re speaking to you.

“While I appreciate your concern for Dirk, Miss Stark,” he says, “unfortunately I cannot support my son after what he’s done. I’m surprised that it’s you advocating for him, considering the situation.”

Asshole.

“I, uh, know it seems strange for me to come but once you understand, maybe it will make sense. You see, Dirk and I–”

“Are you pregnant?”

Wait…what the fuck did he just say?

“What?” I ask stiffly and he raises his brows.

“Did he knock you up too?”

Pregnant…too?

Despite the complete inappropriateness of his question, I’m rooted to the spot in shock. What did he mean?

---