“Did I almost just die? I feel like I almost just died!” I could hear Jack’s heartbeat accelerate even more, and his scent turned sour and acrid. “What the fuck?”
“Calm down, you’re alive,” Chris said. “It was just a fluke because this disgustingly ostentatious estate is a legacy of caring more about the appearance of being opulent than the actual structure. It’s been falling apart for generations.”
I didn’t say it aloud as I stood and helped Jack to his feet, but I didn’t agree. There was something so stark about the sudden crash of the beam that had tried to take yet another sibling away. It ate at me, burying itself deep into my mind. I knew I would obsess over it.
“I’m going to call a contractor now,” Penelope said. “I can probably find an overnight one who can get there in an hour or two. It’ll cost an arm and a leg but—” The color drained from her face. She likely remembered that an arm with our family ring was the only limb separated from the mess of gore that’d been scattered all throughout our father’s office, set apart and arranged justsoto make a crude gesture.
The killer was mocking us.
“You’re in another country,” Chris said, his voice softening slightly. “I’ll handle it.”
“I’ll call the detectives,” I murmured, still staring at that beam.
“Why?”
I stared at my older brother dolefully. “I would think the why is obvious.”
“You want to tell them our legacy estate is crumbling? I don’t think it’s relevant.”
Not relevant?
I stared at him some more but decided to drop it—for the moment, at least. I got Jackie up into his old room. He wasn’t all that keen to spend the night until I asked him if he reallywanted to be completely alone in his penthouse, especially after he called his friends’ wives.
Once Penelope was sure we weren’t going to rip each other apart, she ended the call. Chris? Well, Chris was Chris, as he always was. But eventually, I managed to get some time alone to make my own call.
“Detective Tutorillo,” came the terse voice across the line. I decided I was still going to mentally call him Detective Righty. If he wanted my brain to remember his name, maybe he should have been a bit more pleasant to remember. “Who’s this?”
“Paul VanMarche,” I said quickly.
“What’s wrong? Did you remember something you wanted to tell us?”
“Ah, no. Nothing quite like that. I’m calling because a rafter fell in our home and nearly killed Jackson, the youngest.”
“Do you need an ambulance?”
“No, we’re okay.”
“All right, then…” His pause was particularly pregnant, even over the phone line. “Why are you telling us about it?”
Was I taking crazy pills? And if I was, would they even work on a wolf shifter?
“Because that certainly seems suspicious, doesn’t it?”
“Suspicious as in you believe someone somehow purposefully sabotaged a roof support to magically have a perfect fall and harm your sibling?”
“I’m not sure why you say it like that when magic exists, Detective. A good witch could?—”
“Look, it’s an old house, and there was a violent attack there that used magical shielding to contain everything, including scent, within the scene of the crime. It makes sense that a few things have come loose or become damaged.
“I know emotions are high right now, and you’re going through something no kid should have to experience, but it was just an unfortunate coincidence.”
“Unfortunate coincidence,” I repeated, even though my instincts were screaming that was false. “Right, Detective Righ—Tutorillo.I’ll keep that in mind.”
I hung up, staring down the hall. Maybe… maybe I just needed a little sleep to reset my brain and come to terms with the new hell I was living in.
Sleep eluded me.
Not exactly shocking, but certainly disappointing. For once, I agreed with my brother that shutting my brain off for just a couple of minutes would be a pleasant relief from the maelstrom going on between my ears.