Broken Rules(48)

“Why wait so long?” I question, still not feeling as convinced as he is. “Why not just come straight after you?”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head, his eyes darting around the room in thought. “I don’t know what they’re up to, but I’m convinced they’ll know exactly where Bernadette and my mom are.”

The Hendersons could have taken Bernadette, hoping to arrange some sort of hostage deal to get what Emmett inherited from his father, but it still doesn’t make sense. Why would Malcolm spend so much time goading me? Why wait at all? Why not just let Emmett know right away to try and get what they were after?

Emmett seems convinced, and he knows more about the dynamics of this fucked up town than I do, so I don’t question him.

“But wait…how do you know the cops aren’t just as much in the Henderson’s pockets as they were your father’s?” I propose. “You said we shouldn’t trust them.”

“I’m done playing games,” he barks. “This has gone on long enough. You were right. We should have called them right away. I just needed to be certain of who was responsible for this.”

“Just think about this first,” I plead with him, worried he’s acting too rashly. “You swore calling the cops wasn’t an option.”

“I’m not going to get wrapped up in the same endless stream of dirty games as my father,” he insists. “I said I was going to do things differently, and now it’s time to do that. I have to set an example for the Hendersons and anyone else who even thinks about trying something like this after them. Jameson is going to play by the rules now. These twisted games aren’t going to work anymore.”

“Wait!” I throw my hand around his to stop him from dialing. “I have an idea. What about Coach Granger? He knows just as well as you do that the cops around here are corrupt. But he said he has a detective friend or something that he can trust. They helped him find out Lily and Malcolm were behind his son’s death.”

“Do you think he’d help us?” Emmett asks me, his face bright and open.

I shrug. “We stand just as good of a chance with him as we would with the rest of the police.”

“Okay. Call him,” he commands urgently.

I pull out my phone and step to the other side of the room. I tell Coach Granger I don’t have time to explain, but that I need someone within the authorities that we can actually trust. Without hesitation, he gives me the name and number of his friend, Detective Williams.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask one more time before Emmett calls.

He nods assertively. “I’m sure.” He puts the phone on speaker as it rings.

“Yeah?” A curt and raspy voice picks up.

“Detective Williams?” Emmett asks.

“Who’s this?” the man shoots back, sounding like his mouth is full of food.

“Emmett Jameson,” he replies. “Coach Granger told me I could trust you.”

The line falls silent for a moment. Then, “Wow…Mr. Jameson himself,” he marvels. “Listen, son, I don’t know what you need…But I don’t play into all the bullshit the rest of the force around here does. I can’t be bought off for whatever trouble it is you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Then you’re just the guy I need,” Emmett pleads. “I need to report a disappearance. Possibly two. Mrs. Jameson and her daughter, Bernadette Jameson. And I know where they are.”

Silence again, muffled by a big gulp and the ruffle of what sounds like a paper napkin against the guy’s face. “Where?” he asks finally.

“With Liam and Malcolm Henderson.”

We hear a pen plopping to a pad of paper, as if he’s not even going to bother writing it down.

“The Hendersons?” he gaffs. “It’s going to be pretty hard to go after them for anything. They’re quickly becoming even more powerful than your father was.”

“That may be, but this town still depends on Jameson Automobiles,” Emmett insists. “And if they get their hands on my company, they won’t look out for the people here the way I will. So, everyone’s jobs and this entire economy rests on your ability to save Bernadette and my mother and stop whatever they’re planning. Can you help us?”

Detective Williams tells us he will see what he can do. We sit side by side on the edge of Emmett’s bed and anxiously wait for him to call back. I squeeze his hand tightly in mine as we watch the sun slowly set outside his bedroom window. We’re both mulling over every possible scenario, the best and the worst. He could call back and say he has Bernadette and is bringing her home alive and well. He could call back and say everything has gone wrong.

Finally, the phone rings, making us both jump. Emmett flies from the bed, flipping the phone back onto speaker. “Detective Williams?”

“Emmett,” he answers with a big sigh that makes our hearts sink. “Look, son, I gotta ask you: are you feeling okay?”

It’s not a question either of us were expecting.

“Did you find my mom and Bernadette?” he asks frantically, shaking away the odd question. “Are they okay? Did you rescue them?”

“I’m afraid we couldn’t rescue them…” he says grimly. “Because they weren’t kidnapped.”

“What are you talking about?” Emmett freezes. My mouth drops. His tone had us both preparing for the worst, but this…this is something different.

“They were with the Hendersons, alright,” he clarifies. “But they said they were there of their own free will. To get away from you.”

“What!” Emmett snaps.

“They said you’ve gone off the deep end since your father died. The Hendersons offered to take them in to get them away from you,” Williams explains frankly.

“No…no…” Emmett massages the bridge of his nose in confusion. “You saw them!? You talked to them yourself, in person?”

“Of course,” he confirms, sounding too chipper. “They looked perfectly fine. Said they were there of their own free will. They’re really worried about you, though. Malcolm says you’ve been having some…girlfriend troubles? He mentioned that hasn’t been helping things too much.”

Emmett looks at me with wide eyes, and I look just as shocked. I’ve been to Malcolm’s house twice now, and it never occurred to me that Bernadette and their mom could both be there—much less of their own free will. To make everything worse, they’re inexplicably trying to pin all of this on Emmett, to make it look like they were escaping some kind of psychotic break down of his.

“I’m fine, Detective Williams,” Emmett murmurs despondently. “Thank you for all of your help.”

“You at home, son?” Williams asks suddenly. “Can I send someone over to check on you?”

Emmett ends the call without answering and looks at me with distant, lost eyes. With a breath of disbelief, he drops to the chair behind him. The phone thumps to the floor from his listless hand.

“I can’t believe they’d do that,” I say softly, not knowing what else to say. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” he answers dryly. “We have to go to the Hendersons’.”

“What? Emmett…no!” I protest, flying to my feet. “Out of the question. It’s dangerous!”

“They’re doing this for a reason,” he explains. “And if they wanted to kill me, they would have done it by now. They’re trying to fuck with me.”

“But why would your own family do such a thing?” I cry, not wanting to believe it. “You’ve been worried sick about Bernadette this whole time. And your mom…she knew all along and didn’t try to tell you things were okay? She played into your worrying! She made it seem like she was afraid, too!”

“Welcome to the Jameson family.” He smirks sarcastically, swallowing hard as his eyes gloss over. “Let’s go see what they want. They’re waiting for us now. And anyway, we can’t stay here. Detective Williams or some other cop will be showing up soon to check on me. They think I’m crazy.”

Emmett stands and walks indolently out the door with me following behind slowly. I don’t bother questioning him now. Everything he’s said up until now has proven to be true. Malcolm is evil. Vivian isn’t as heartless as she seems. And just as they both told me, I can never understand the weird world they’ve grown up in with their families. Something I believe now more than ever.





23





Chapter Twenty-Three





The butler at the Henderson’s manor doesn’t say a word as he opens the door and directs us to Liam’s study, proving what Emmett said to be true. They were expecting us after the visit from Detective Williams. This is all a scheme, but we’re left guessing as to what its purpose is.

He leads us to a room that looks more like a billionaire’s office in a high rise in a big city than someone’s home office. The floors are black marble with crisp, clean white walls. The furniture is plain and sharply designed, with brightly-colored modern art sculptures lining the shelves, much like the rest of the house.