Aaron, a uniformed policeman, and two blokes in suits I’ve never seen before greet me when I reach the top of the stairs in Billie’s flat.
“Where’s Billie?” My eyes dart between Aaron and the space around him.
“Bedroom. She’s fine, she’s absolutely fine,” he reassures me.
“Mr Young?” one of the suits asks.
“Yep. What’s happened?” I shake his hand.
His name’s something Humphreys, and he introduces me to his colleague Craig something or something Craig. I’m momentarily distracted when the Kings of Leon’s “Sex On Fire” starts to play loudly over the sound system. We all stare up at the speakers until the volume is lowered.
Humphreys’ explains how Billie made a 9-9-9 call, the police arrived to find a number of people in my pool house in a state of undress and with a large quantity of Class A drugs in their possession. Whitney and Deana Federov have been arrested, as have Robin Crane and Michael Firman. I confirm I know the Federov’s and my relationship to them, but that I’ve no idea who the other two are. Craig then informs me they’re waiting on a warrant so they can search the rest of my house.
That’s when Aaron jumps in and tells them that, without the warrant, there’ll be no search. I open my mouth to tell him I’ve nothing to hide, but Aaron’s shaking his head at me.
“Mr Young is in the middle of a messy divorce and custody battle with Ms Federov, who he recently served with an eviction notice to vacate these premises within thirty days. It’s been brought to our attention that image recording equipment has been sequestered in Mr Young's bedroom. The footage has then been used by Ms Federov to secure favourable settlement terms, despite a prenup having been signed before the marriage.”
“So, you’re worried she might’ve stashed something to set you up?” Craig asks as he rubs the stubble on his jaw. Again I open my mouth to reply when Leona Lewis, momentarily blasts through the speakers singing about Bleeding Love. We all look up until the volume’s lowered.
“That’s exactly what concerns us. If any search takes place, it’ll be with a warrant, and I’d like to be present,” Aaron tells Craig.
“Not a problem.”
Leona’s cut off by Daniel Beddingfield’s “If You’re Not the One,” and I know it’s not a coincidence. My lips twitch as I nod for no obvious reason.
Cal, Jake, and Jay appear at the top of the stairs at the exact moment the music switches again, and Lewis Capaldi croons quietly about being someone who was once loved.
“Just gonna check on Bamm,” I say as a general statement to everyone in the room.
Cal comes to a stop, confusion pinching a deep furrow on his brow. “You need to start talking Young. Why the fuck are you so desperate to see my sister, and I still don’t understand why she didn’t come back with you last night or this morning? What the fuck was she even doing here anyway?”
“We had words yesterday, Cal. I was stressed, and in a shit mood, I snapped at Billie and I upset her. I just want a minute to say sorry for that and for what she walked in on this morning.”
“If she didn’t get here till this morning? Where did she stay last night?”
Ava Max interrupts Cal’s rant, singing about a girl who’s sweet but psycho, and I know for sure Billie knows I’m here. I also know she’s fucking with me. Unable to keep a straight face any longer, I turn towards Billie’s closed bedroom door, calling out, “just give me a minute with her. Need a word with you too when I’m done, Aaron.” I send my own narrowed eye glare his way as I go. My brain’s been working on overdrive on the way here, and I have a little voice in my head that just won’t shut up about Aaron.
Aaron frowns before he gives me a raised brow stare and a shrug.
“Ruh-roh. Busted,” Jake says from somewhere behind me, and I get the distinct impression everyone else already knows what it is I want a word with him about.
I ignore Jake and open Billie’s bedroom door. The room’s empty. The bathroom door closed.
“Bamm?” I call out.
Her phone’s sitting on the chest of drawers beside the bed, I scroll through it. Searching her playlist, I find the song I’m looking for and press play.
“You Are The Reason” begins to play. Callum Scott sings softly about fixing what he broke. My stomach churns as I stand in Billie’s bedroom. The song ends, and I wait.
The bathroom door swings open and she’s there, my drop of autumn sun: hair piled on top of her head, wearing a baggy sweatshirt. This one hangs off both shoulders with a middle finger salute printed on the front and the words Boss Bitch running around it. The sweatshirt is so big it comes almost to her knees. The rest of her legs are bare aside from the black fluffy bed socks covered in silver stars on her feet. I shake my head but smile at the same time.
“Get over here, Jane Bond.” She leans against the door frame, frowns and smiles at the same time.
“Who’s Jane Bond?”
“James Bond’s female counterpart.”
“Pfft, I was more like Kim Possible or Lara Croft, not some old dude in a tux.”