Page 67 of Submitting to Them
“So we’ve been trying to get as much info oneverythingin light of Kristin Wayfield’s kidnapping, right?”
“Right,” I say slowly.
“Well, nobody thought it was related or important, but I think it’s sus as fuck.While I was chatting with Baldwin a little while ago, he let slip that soon after Bryan Crowley’s death, the guards on duty that night all resigned.They said they found new positions, but now nobody can find them.It led the detective to look at details in a new light.”
“And?”
“And…the dude had some questionable marks on his hands and bruises on his bare feet—defensive wounds.”
“You’re telling me that Bryan Crowley’s death wasn’t a suicide?”I say.
Lin nods.“Yeah.Why nobody saw fit to share that information with you, I might never know.But that’s what an independent medical examiner found.It was murder, designed to look like suicide.”
Sixteen
Ella
An hour after Kingston helped me blow off steam by blowinghim, Sebastian comes home.His hazel eyes are guarded, and he holds himself stiffly.
“Was Helena Tranthatbad?”I ask.
He jerks out of his brooding focus, then shakes his head with a sheepish expression.“No, she was great, actually.She’s my new agent.I have to text Pat to say thanks for the rec, later.”
“That’s great, congrats,” I say.
A part of me should be jealous, right?That it’s so easy for him to see his music dreams come true.But as I examine the feelings of my heart, all I find is happiness for him.This dear man has been through so much shit because of Trina, and then he gotstabbedbecause of me.It’s about time he had some luck.
Kingston says, “Congrats.”
“Thanks.”Sebastian disappears into the kitchen and I hear the sounds of the sink.A minute later, he comes into the living room with a glass of water and sits down opposite Kingston and me.Twisting the glass around in his hands, he says, “So…I talked to Lin after my meeting with Helena.And she dropped quite a bombshell in my lap.”
I don’t know that I can handle another bombshell, and I tense up against Kingston.He rubs my arm, soothing, reminding me of his guarding presence.
“What did she say?”I whisper.
Leaning forward, Sebastian puts his hand on my knee.“She learned that your former building manager didn’t die by his own hand.”
“Bryan didn’t kill himself?”I ask.
Sebastian shakes his head, and I try to process the news.
“Tell me it was just a random, horrible fight in jail,” I say.
Sebastian shakes his head.“Whoever killed him put in some effort to make it look like a suicide.And then the guards who were on duty that night all resigned, then disappeared.”
His words flow like muted bass notes, so low it’s hard for me to pull out the meaning and melody.
Put in effort.Made it look like suicide.Guards resigned.Disappeared.
“So it’s a cover-up,” I say.
It sounds so dramatic, so surreal, especially when I’ve been sitting here in Kingston’s arms, trying to enjoy a quiet evening.
And while I’m thinking of conspiracy theories, the idea it’s a cover-up leads me to consider what it could be a cover-upfor.That Bryan wasn’t watching me simply for his own creepy reasons—although that could’ve been part of it, too—but someone put him up to it.
Who could have put him up to it?I have one guess.
“Joel knew about my keyboard,” I say.“He knew where it was, and he shouldn’t have known, because he never came into my apartment.”
