Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland Book 2) Page 5

  This wasn’t making any sense.

  “We’ve got no idea. Maybe they felt differently afterwards. They could’ve felt under duress or had drunk too much to know what they were saying. We don’t know. Their solicitor dealt with it, apparently. We couldn’t get a straight answer out of Don Lockwood when we called him last night. Not that we expected to. He’d always put his family name before anything else.”

  I wasn’t used to hearing my dad speak like that about someone he considered a friend. Don Lockwood, Jensen and Chase’s dad, was an aloof, hard-faced man, but I’d never taken him for a coward. Dad was right though. The Lockwoods looked after their own, but before all this, that’d included Brodie.

  What had happened to change that?

  “I’m gonna go see Jensen. I need to hear him tell me exactly why he’s protecting that piece of shit. Why he’s not standing up for his best friend when he needs him the most. Brodie would never have done this if the tables were turned. He always stood by his friends.”

  I went to stand up, but my mum grabbed my arm, making me stop and sink back down into my chair.

  “I don’t think you should be going out today, Harper. Not after everything. You’re vulnerable.”

  I gave a low laugh and then looked at my dad for back up. I didn’t find it. He was as stubborn about all this as she was.

  “Your mum’s right. You need to stay here and focus on your well-being.”

  “I’m not about to do a Britney; shave my head and start attacking people, Dad. If I want to go out, I will.”

  I wasn’t being totally truthful. If a Britney-style meltdown were required, I’d probably have done it, just to get my voice heard. I wasn’t ruling anything out at this point.

  “Fine. We won’t lock you in your room. Not yet, anyway.” He gave me a smile to try and show he was being jovial, but I didn’t return it. I didn’t doubt for a second that padlocks and chains would come into play if they had to. I’d still fight it, though. Bring it on. I’d lost my twin, my other half. I felt manic and unstable, and somebody needed to pay. Right then, anything was possible, and I was starting to realise that in this quest for justice, I was on my own.

  Thirty minutes later, and I was banging my fist like a mad woman on the black, highly polished double front doors of the Lockwood house, blowing blonde wisps of hair out of my face and hoping I didn’t look as savage as I felt. I say house, but this place was a bloody mansion. The upkeep for the topiary in the front garden alone probably cost more than most people made in a month. We weren’t poor, but the Lockwoods were real money; old money.

  I prayed it’d be Jensen or Chase that opened up. I didn’t mind their mum, Karen, either. She’d always been nice to me whenever I’d seen her. But I didn’t like Don. I felt on edge whenever he was around. Like he’d stab you in the back then shake your hand and ask you to thank him for the privilege. You couldn’t even call him a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He didn’t hide his disdain for other people and the world around him. He wore his wolf status with pride.

  He’d also been the first to back away from Emily’s dad, Alec Winters, our local M.P., when all the shit came out about his dodgy dealings and what’d happened with his son. We didn’t know the Winters family all that well, but they knew the Lockwoods, and before Mr Winters had been arrested and charged with fraud and manslaughter, they’d been so far up each other’s asses you didn’t know where Don Lockwood started and Alec Winters ended. I guess the saying was right; fake friends are like shadows, always there on your brightest days, but nowhere to be seen in your darkest hours. Not that I condoned what Winters did. But it didn’t take a genius to guess that Don Lockwood probably knew a lot of what was going on, and he’d been happy enough to turn a blind eye for all those years. Corruption breeds corruption, after all.

  I lifted my hand up to knock again, then let out a grateful sigh when Jensen opened the door. He didn’t look pleased to see me, but he soon painted on a fake smile to hide it.

  “Harper, hey. How you doing?” He didn’t stand back to let me in. His greeting wasn’t that welcoming.

  “What the hell is going on, Jensen? Why did you retract your statement?”

  He glanced behind him, making sure no one else in his house had heard me rant, then he stepped onto the porch area and closed the door behind him. He tried to put his hand on my elbow and escort me down the steps to leave, but I shrugged him off and stood my ground.

  “I want to know. What. The fuck. Is going on?”

  He blew out a slow breath and leant against one of the sandstone pillars, crossing his arms over his chest and looking anywhere but at me. People were making a habit of that. Acting like I wasn’t there or talking to me like I was an inconvenience. I was sure if there was a block Harper app he could download, he’d have done it.

  “It’s complicated, Harper. We had to think about what was best for us, for the family.” My eyes bugged out of my head as he said that. I huffed and his voice went lower. “I’ve gotta think about my career, my future. Dad didn’t want a court-case dragging the family name through the mud.”

  He was un-fucking-believable.

  “So, it’s okay to stab your best friend in the back. Your dead best friend. You know, the one who was murdered in front of you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Of course it does,” he hissed, and then gave another nervous glance at the door as if he expected to find his dad standing there glaring back at him. “But this goes higher than just us. It’s a Pandora’s box we don’t wanna open. We can’t. You need to drop it.”

  “Drop it? This is Brodie we’re talking about. The guy who saved your ass on more than one occasion. You’d be in court yourself if he hadn’t covered for you when you first started fighting. Remember that?” I sure did, and I was more than happy to hold that little nugget over his head.

  “I’ll never fucking forget it. But you need to. I mean it, Harper. Give it up.”

  “And what about Chase? Is he following your lead like a fucking sheep too?” His eyes took on a more lethal, venomous edge when I mentioned his brother. At least we agreed on one thing; we’d protect our sibling no matter what.

  “We both saw the same thing,” he said through gritted teeth. “Brodie tripped and fell. It’s the same story everyone’s given. The videos back it up too.” He shrugged like he hadn’t just driven a massive knife through my chest with his words.

  “Mobile phones don’t show shit. You were there. You know he hit him. He knocked him backwards and Brodie died.”

  “Look, I know you want Mathers to pay. We all do. And he will. But we’ll do it our way. No police. No courts. Our way.”

  It was always a control thing with Jensen. He liked to think he controlled Brodie, and now he was trying to do the same with me. But I wasn’t going to be dictated to by anyone.

  “I don’t think I like your way of doing things. Forgive me, but why should I trust you?” I cocked my head to the side, giving him my most penetrating stare so he’d know that I meant business. “It didn’t take you long to stab my brother in the back. If Brodie were here now, he’d kick your ass.”

  “Yeah, he probably would. Wouldn’t change anything though. As far as the police are concerned, we saw nothing.” He bent down and said the last part right into my face like it was a fucking threat, spraying me with a mist of spit as he did. He made me sick. I leant away, sneering at him in disgust.

  “I hope that bus you threw us under swerves right back around and hits your ass. I will get revenge, but not because you’ve decided when and where it happens. I don’t do things on your terms.” He laughed at me, but it only spurred me on further. “Watch your back, Jensen. I hope you sleep well at night knowing what a low-life, back-stabbing cunt you are.”

  “Oh, I sleep just fine, sweetheart. And I’d be careful who you’re firing your threats to. I don’t take kindly to intimidation.”

  “Unless it’s your father, then you get intimidated real fast.”

  He grabbed m
y arm then and dragged me down the steps and along his driveway. I followed, but only because he was stronger than me, so I had no choice.

  “You need to leave. Don’t come here again. I mean it.” His jaw was clenched, but seeing the hurt and anger in my eyes, he softened a little. “If you need anything, anything at all, we’ll help you. But you need to stay away. Don’t ask questions. Trust me. You won’t like the fucking answers.”

  I was done. I couldn’t stand another minute of listening to his bullshit excuses. I’d never trusted Jensen, but Brodie did, and I’d assumed he’d always have his back. How wrong was I? When push came to shove, we could only rely on ourselves to get the job done… Or our twin, if we were lucky enough to have one.

  I got into my car and drove away, so focused on my rage that I didn’t have the first clue where I was going, not until I pulled onto the forecourt of Hardy and Son’s garage. I wanted answers, and I knew they were hiding something, or rather someone.

  I parked and got out of my car. There was a guy I didn’t recognise working under a bonnet, but I couldn’t see anyone else outside. He gave me a backwards glance and then carried on with his job. Probably expected me to go straight into the office. What he didn’t expect was for me to march into his workshop and grab the nearest tool I could find. I didn’t expect it either, but it was happening.

  I picked up the wrench as he started to call after me.

  “Excuse me, miss. You can’t just come in here and take that. That’s our property. Miss-”

  I walked right over to the white van parked out front and lifted the wrench high into the air before crashing it down onto the windscreen. Seeing the glass crack and shatter was surprisingly satisfying. I lifted it up again, smashing down hard on the glass and feeling some of the tension from earlier trickle out of me as I pounded out my aggression. Maybe Britney had it right all along. This certainly felt better than sitting around twiddling my thumbs and waiting for karma to do its shit for me.

  I didn’t feel anything other than overwhelming, all-consuming rage. Pound after pound I could sense the anger mutating; changing into something I could control and channel. Maybe I was more like my boxer brother than I realised. Violence felt good.

  But then, all too soon, it was over. I was being lifted into the air from behind and voices were shouting all around me. I saw an older man, probably Mr Hardy, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pointing to the van, saying, “Mr. Gale is coming to collect his van at five. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I can’t let him see that.”

  The mechanic that I’d seen when I’d arrived was covering his mouth and looking between me and the rest of them who’d spilled out onto the forecourt after hearing my outburst. I spotted Emily Winters walking towards me with fake concern in her eyes. She was speaking softly, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying over the ringing in my ears. Then Ryan’s voice boomed loud like a fucking tannoy, obliterating my anger-induced haze and yanking me into the present. He’d been the one to pull me away, and he was holding me, trying to shake my hand and get me to drop the wrench.

  “Put it down. For fuck’s sake, Harper. Put the fucking wrench down.”

  From the fear in his voice, I guessed he thought I was going to hurt Emily, so I dropped it. As soon as I did, he let me go and reached down to get it, sliding it across the ground as far away from me as he could.

  “What the hell is all this? Ryan? Can you tell me what’s going on?” The older guy was still tugging at his hair, looking like a broken windscreen was the worst fucking thing to ever happen in his life. Lucky him.

  “Dad, this is Harper Yates,” Ryan said, and his dad’s face fell in recognition. “Don’t worry about the damage, Dad. It’s just the glass. The bodywork is fine. Kieron can fix it and I’ll pay for it out of my wages.” He turned to face the other guy that was still gawping at me. “Kieron, mate. Can you fit a new windscreen before five? I’ll pay you extra?”

  Kieron nodded like it was nothing and headed back to the workshop.

  “I’ll pay for the damage,” I said, suddenly finding my voice. “I thought it was your van.” I glared at Ryan as he put his arm around Emily.

  “We don’t want your money,” Ryan spat, and then he went to walk away, but Emily stopped him.

  “Harper, will you come inside and talk to us? Just for a minute. I can make you a coffee and you can tell us why you came here today.”

  What the fuck did she care? Her dad was about to go down for a stretch, and her mum was the biggest fuck up in Sandland. Well, she was until I started vying for that role.

  Why were my problems so important to her?

  Did she get off on playing the role of the saint?

  Probably.

  My shit probably helped her to forget about her own.

  “She didn’t come here to talk, Em. She came here to cause trouble.” Ryan eyeballed me like I was the enemy.

  “As if I’d get any answers out of you, anyway. You’re all as bad as each other.”

  “How do you know if you don’t at least try? Ask us the questions and we’ll try to answer. After the last few months, we’re all about honesty.” Emily looked at Ryan then back at me. “At least let us try to help. We could all use a friend sometimes.”

  “You’re not my friend and you never will be.” I stood there as Emily, Ryan, and his dad stared blankly back at me.

  We could all use a friend?

  Her words rang in my ears and the heat of tears welled up in my eyes.

  Friends.

  I didn’t have any. Not really. Sally had been a friend, but after dating Brodie and going through a messy break-up, she hadn’t spoken to me. Not for ages. She didn’t even reach out when he died or come to his funeral. Brodie’s friends had been my friends. And now? They’d closed ranks. Gone into hiding and turned their backs on me.

  In that moment, I realised I had no one. No one I could talk to about any of this. I couldn’t tell my mum and dad about the nightmares that plagued me. They had their own grief to contend with. I couldn’t tell anyone about my secret stalker, and if I did, they probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. I’d driven here for a reason, and these people owed me. I needed answers and I needed to offload.

  “Fine,” I snapped. “But don’t think this changes anything.”

  I picked my way over the broken glass on the floor and followed Emily and Ryan inside. Mr Hardy stayed where he was and gave me a sympathetic smile. I couldn’t look at him though, because despite my unbridled anger, I also felt shame. Shame for the way I’d behaved on his property. That wasn’t me. I didn’t hurt people, and I didn’t cause trouble. What the hell was happening to me?

  The Hardy’s house was next door to the garage, and Emily led us into the kitchen and clicked the kettle on. I sat down at the small wooden table in the middle and fiddled with my fingernails, while Ryan leant up against the kitchen counter next to Emily. His arms were folded over his broad chest and his muscles were tensed like he was getting ready to defend her. I didn’t know what to say. Should I apologise? I didn’t want to. If Mr Hardy was in front of me, I might have done, but I didn’t want to use the word sorry to Emily or Ryan, because I didn’t feel it. If anything, they should have been apologising to me.

  Emily put a black coffee in front of me then placed a sugar bowl and some milk on the table. Ryan watched her every move, and when she sat down next to me, he joined us.

  “Let’s just get straight to the point. You have a problem with Ryan. Me too, I suppose. I don’t know why. We weren’t there that night, when…” She sighed and looked guilty. “Anyway, we don’t know where Brandon is. We’ve tried looking for him. We’ve looked everywhere, but he’s gone. If we knew where he was, we’d tell you.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I snapped. I’d heard this all before. I didn’t come here for the rerun.

  “Why would we lie?” she answered, and it was on the tip of my tongue to reel off a million and one reasons. I went with the obvious.

  “Because
you’re his friends. Cheaters help other cheaters. You covered for him that night and you’re still covering for him now.”

  “No, we’re not. We didn’t even know he had a fight that night. He hadn’t told any of us.” She glanced at Ryan before she said the next part. “We had a falling out and Brandon went off on one. If any of us had known he was heading to the barn to fight in the headspace he was in, we’d have done everything we could to try and talk him out of it, but we didn’t know.”

  She’d just handed me the single biggest piece of evidence to show Mathers was guilty without even knowing what she’d done.

  “What do you mean, headspace? What happened?”

  Her eyes bulged slightly as I leant forward, waiting to see how she’d worm her way out of this one.

  “He was angry, hurt, and probably wanted to lash out.”

  Then Ryan butted in to defend his friend.

  “He wouldn’t have gone into that fight with the intention of killing anyone. He isn’t like that. He might be a shady fucker sometimes, but he’s not a murderer.”

  Like he’d say anything different to me.

  “How would you know?” I could feel the spite and anger rising to the surface again. I knew coming in here would be pointless.

  “Because I know him better than anyone else. We’ve been friends since we were four years old. I know exactly what he’s capable of, and whatever’s been said about him, its bullshit.”

  He needed to take off his rose-tinted glasses. The Brandon Mathers he knew was a million miles away from the one I saw that night.

  “I was there, remember? I know what I saw. People lie, but eyes don’t. Mine saw the truth.”

  “Grief can do things to us,” Emily chipped in, like she’d read my mind and was trying to argue that my sense of reason and truth had been distorted.

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “No. Not at all,” she bit back sharply. “But your adrenaline would’ve been through the roof that night. I’ve watched Brandon fight, and even I lose all sense of reality. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’d be like to watch a loved one up there.”