Secrets - [Guardian Trilogy 01] (23 page)

I put everything away as I boiled water in my new teapot—a
teapot
.
Me.
I carried the steaming hot cup and coaster to my room. Olivia had moved only to pull herself in tighter. I placed the mug on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed near her.

“Tea?” She blinked, and her eyes glistened with fresh tears. I reached towards her because it felt like the right thing to do, but she pulled away from me.

Stupid.

I stood up and walked towards the door. I hated this. All of it. I hated not knowing what to do. I hated not being in control. I hated caring that she was hurting. Part of me longed to be cut free of her and leave, but I couldn’t, I wouldn’t.

“If you need anything . . .” I said.

Her only response was a sob.

It carried on like this for the next three days. Olivia was generally unresponsive to anything, though almost everything I said or did made her cry. Most of my time was spent between recrimination and fielding the calls to Olivia’s phone. Olivia didn’t seem to want anything from me so I waited. I waited for her to come back to me. Hoping she would find her way and worried the entire time that I was messing this all up terribly.

Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer.

Seventeen

I spent days wallowing in grief, self-pity, and pain. Holden took care of me, but gave me space. He didn’t push or try to make me talk. He let me be sad, almost like he was giving me permission to feel my emotions, something not many people would’ve allowed. I could hear the concern in his voice the few times he did speak to me, but he never expressed it or tried to make me stop. On the fourth day he came in and tossed my cell phone at me. I watched it land on the bed, but didn’t move to retrieve it.

“Your mother has called you about two
thousand
times and Detective Morgan called. It's time to stop being selfish. Get out of bed. Take a shower.” There was a faint edge in his voice; his steely nerves were fraying.

“No,” I said not finding the energy to speak much above a whisper.

“Olivia, you lost someone important to you, but Juliet wouldn’t want you to stop living. You
have
to eat. You
have
to get up. You
have
to take a shower. No more. Enough.”

I rolled over, turning my back to him.

“Unacceptable,” he growled, then picked me up and carried me into the bathroom. Sitting me in the shower fully clothed, he turned the water on and shut the door behind him as he walked out. I let the water rain over me. Amazingly, I started to feel a little better. I stood up discarding my wet clothes and took an actual shower. Washing away the grime from the last few days served as a mental cleansing as well. I wrapped a black towel around me and another around my hair, leaving the wet clothes in Holden’s shower. New clothes waited on the corner of the bed. They weren't mine and they definitely weren't Holden’s, but they were dry and they fit so I wore them.

Holden was right; I had missed a ton of calls. Most were from Mom. I hadn’t spoken with her since I called to tell her about Juliet. It was too painful. I knew she was concerned, and I felt guilty for making her worry, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it with anyone yet. I’d also missed a call from Detective Morgan. His I did return.

“Morgan.”

“Hello, this is Olivia Martin. I’m returning your call. Did you have further questions?”

“No. I wanted to let you know that your friend’s death has been ruled a suicide.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe it. I knew what it looked like, but I also knew Juliet and there was no way. “No way. Juliet wouldn't have killed herself!” I was dumbfounded that he didn’t understand this.

“Ms. Martin, we found a suicide note. The handwriting was a match. There were no prints besides yours and hers anywhere in the apartment. The door was locked from the inside, no signs of forced entry. There's no other explanation.”

His words sounded far away and rang like lies in my ears. I was having trouble reconciling their meaning. “There was a note. Can I see the note?” I asked after an unnatural pause.

“Yes, I'll leave a copy for you at the desk. You can stop by and pick it up if you’d like.”

“Fine, I’ll pick it up.” I snapped. “Juliet did not kill herself. I don’t care what the evidence looks like. You need to look again because you're wrong. I've known her for sixteen years; it’s simply not possible.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, but the case is closed, Ms. Martin.”

“Fine.” I chucked the phone across the room. It shattered against the exposed brick wall. “I can’t believe that man calls himself a detective,” I muttered.

“That went well, huh?” Holden said from the doorway.

“He doesn’t know what he's talking about, and I don’t care what it looks like. She wouldn’t do that, not ever. Do you understand me? Not
ever
!” Rage was bubbling over, and I couldn’t pull it back. I wanted to lash out and was looking for any excuse to do so.

Holden looked at me seriously, not saying anything. I waited for him to tell me I was wrong, to say I was overreacting. I was ready to tear him up and down, but then he nodded. “I believe you,” he said quietly, never breaking eye contact.

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I was stunned. “You do?”

“I do.” His face was as solemn as I felt.

“Why?”

 “The primary reason? Your conviction. I've seen enough to know things aren't always what they seem. You knew her better than anyone. I trust your assessment.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “So we have to find the killer.” It was the only choice. The police had given up, so it was up to me.

“What?” Holden’s face went from confused to disapproving in seconds. “No—
No
. Olivia, you need to stay away from this. Promise me you won’t look into it.” Stressed lined his features. “I don’t know what happened or how, but I know you have to stay away from it. There are so many things …” He shook his head. “You have no idea what you could be getting into. It's a bad idea. Someone who could fake a suicide this well has done it before—many times before. Please don’t get involved.”

“No.” Holden seemed to be under the mistaken notion that taking care of me for three days meant he was now in charge of my life. “How can you ask me not to look into my best friend’s murder? I need to prove she didn't do it.”

“It won't bring her back.”

“I know that. I need to do it for her sake. She wouldn't want to be remembered like this. I need to prove she was killed and have her killer brought to justice. Juliet’s life should be remembered as great, not tragic. If I don’t fix this, who will?”

“You could be walking into something you can't handle. Look, you already have people breaking into her house. You need to be more careful. If that Quintus person contacts you again, you need to tell me.”

I ignored him. I didn't care what I was walking into—though a little shiver went through me as I remembered the last part of his comment. “And as for Quintus . . . Do you think he had something to do with it?” In a scary way, it made good sense. He had broken into my house once before and obviously left no trace or the police would have seen it.

Holden sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. “I don’t know if he did or not, but I know the type of people who could make this happen, and you should steer clear. It's a little too convenient he showed up out of the blue and all of this starts. This isn’t something to take lightly.”

“Do you think I'm taking this lightly?” I snapped “You seem to know a lot, Holden. What type of people are they?”

“They're bad people who do bad things with no regret. It's never a good idea to swim with sharks. I can't tell you any more than that.” It bothered me that Holden knew people like that, but it bothered me more that he wouldn’t explain it clearly.

“Well, I guess it's a good thing I have you—my very own shark.” I smiled sweetly though my voice sounded bitter and cold to my ears. “How do we know that they were not after me from the start?”

More frown lines creased his perfect face—but not before I saw a look of surprise, a look like I’d guessed something. “We don’t. Olivia—”

“Well, until we know something, until there are some answers for these questions, I’m doing this. You can't stop me, but you can
help
me. Or maybe you know enough to give me the answers I want now.”

Holden rolled his eyes. “If I knew who did it, I’d gladly take care of it for you.” I sat unmoved by his declaration, arms crossed. Finally he conceded. “Okay, but if we do this, you have to stay by me at all times. No going anywhere alone. Consider me your bodyguard.”

“Fine.” I agreed. I felt guilty I had goaded him into doing this—damn this conscience of mine. “But you don’t have to help. You don’t need to get involved. If these people are really as dangerous as you say, it isn’t fair to ask you to risk your life. You didn’t even know her.”

“I'm not doing this for her, but if you haven’t figured out how I feel about you by now, then don’t let me ruin the surprise,” he said dryly. ”And I want to meet Quintus.”

“Why?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. I felt like we were playing poker and neither of us wanted to give too much away.

“To kill him,” he said perfectly calm, though his eyes flashed with coldness.

“What?” I asked, flabbergasted. I could feel my eyes widening. “Are you serious?”

The coldness disappeared; Holden smiled a little. “No, I won’t kill him, or not yet,” he said with a wink. “I just want to see who he is and what he's about. Make sure he didn’t have a part in this and that you're safe. If he did have a part in this, however—” Holden's smile grew, “then all bets are off.”

“We’ll see,” I said, not wanting to commit to anything. I hardly knew Quintus and had no idea if he was involved, but I would find out. “I guess it's time for me to go back home.” I said it mostly to change the subject.

Also, I knew the words had to be said though I couldn’t bear the idea of being in my apartment ever again. It would be too hard, too overwhelming. I didn’t want to go back, but I couldn’t take Holden’s hospitality for granted. Surely he had a life to get back to that didn’t include a weepy girl in his bed. Perhaps, I was playing a game with him. I wasn’t going to stay if he would let me go—really it was more of a test than a game. He talked the talk, but would he stop me from leaving?

 Holden had stooped to pick up the pieces of my cell phone; now he straightened and stared at me, his face taking on his typical expressionless mask. “You want to go back?” he asked, his voice giving away what his face hid.

“Well, I can’t stay here forever, can I?” I avoided looking at him, worried he would want me to stay out of sympathy.

Holden started putting my phone back together. “That’s true,” he said quietly.

What was left of my heart sank just a little bit. Holden pressed the once again whole phone into my hand, but didn’t let go. “But I'd like you to stay … for now. You don’t have to stay forever, if you don’t want to … or you can.” He chuckled awkwardly and cleared his throat. I realized I made him nervous. Tough, worldly, bored Holden was anxious about revealing that he cared too much about me. My heart sped up and warmth spread into my cheeks.

“Also, I need to keep an eye on you. Just until we know you are safe,” he said quickly regaining his composure. “Remember, you can’t go anywhere alone. That’s the deal.”