Chapter 1
Thank God she’s dead.
Guilty relief flows through me as I stare at the headstone of the grave.
Brielle Anderson, the gravestone says. After a car accident left her in a coma four years ago, finally passed last month in her sleep, in the hospital room she’s been occupying this whole time.
“Eva,” A hand settles on my shoulder, and I look back to see Clark “We gotta go now.”
He’s started wearing dark glasses lately, but I know his eyes are bloodshot. I’ve visited countless times in the last month, and each time, he’s somehow been here too.
My eyes shift to the tombstone again. If there is grief somewhere in my bones, it hides far from my awareness. Only a dull relief remains. She’s no long suspended between life and death. She’s no long trapped in a cocoon of wires and machines.
I reach out to touch the stone, cold rain splattering on my hand. I won’t be visiting so often now.
Bye, Mom.
Clark and I walk out of the graveyard, where two cars stand. I look at the sleek black Rolls Royce as the door opens, and a man walks over to us, carrying a black umbrella identical to mine.
Lysander Richmond stops in front of us, looking at me expectantly. My father, the words are almost funny. He only showed up after Mom’s accident, and we met for the first time outside an ICU.
“Ready to go back?” He asks me
Usually, I just come with the driver, but today, he made time from his usually overflowing schedule to accompany me.
I take a deep breath of cold air. I don’t want to go back, now that I no longer have the next hospital visit— or graveyard visit— to look forward to, now that the Richmond Manor is a prison in the truest sense.
A few more months, I remind myself. As soon as high school is over, I can leave.
I nod, “Thank you for waiting.”
I close my umbrella and step under his after giving a final wave to Clark, who goes to his own car.
The driver starts the car as soon as the doors close. It’s silent, save for the sound of the car engine and pouring rain outside. I lean my head against the tinted window, closing my eyes for the sleep that so often leaves me hanging.
“Take the long route home.” Lysander’s voice reaches me
I imagine the driver nods, since the speed of the car slows down as well. I suppose he wants to talk without both my half-brothers intervening.
“Evangeline, are you tired?” He asks
I open my eyes and straighten, turn my head to a side to look at him “I’m fine. Is there something you want to talk about?”
He clears his throat at my straightforward approach.
“Now that Brielle is,” Lysander starts, then trails off. He clears his throat once more. “You don’t have to visit the hospital daily. That was why you wanted to be home tutored, didn’t you?”
When I chose to be home schooled two years ago, it wasn’t because I wanted it. The Richmond Manor is not my home, since the people who live there— servants and owners alike— have never allowed me a real place there. I never wanted to spend more time there than what was necessary.
I did want to visit the hospital often, but home schooling was also a convenient way to avoid the people who were out to pick on the ‘half blood’ daughter of Richmond.
Besides, I don’t want to go back to the all-girls academy where most of my female cousins go. I’m still in awe of how I survived my first year there.
“The last year of high school is half way over,” I say casually “I’m comfortable with the arrangement as it is now.”
Lysander purses his lips, his brows furrow. I can tell he doesn’t know whether to continue the conversation or to drop it.
“Evangeline, you can’t stay holed up in your room forever,” He says finally, unable to hold back “It’s not good for you. Girls your age are usually sneaking off to parties and making questionable boyfriends!”
I raise my brows “Do you want me to do that, Father?”
“Of course not,” Lysander says, in a tone of finality “But I want you to make friends, pick up hobbies, go for shopping. You need some sort of life experience before you go to college.”
I sigh deeply. He sounds like he’s already decided.
His next words prove me right.
“I talked to Delman’s principle,” Lysander tells me “And they’ve agreed to let you join. I also talked to them so you’d be placed in the same class as Max.”
Now my mouth turns downwards. My second half-brother is only one ten months older than me, but joined school late, and consequentially, we’re both in the same grade. While Alex, my eldest brother, always just ignored my presence, Max made it his life’s mission to make sure I don’t forget my place.
“Can’t I just continue as I’m doing right now?” I ask “Or if I have to join some school, can’t it be somewhere else?”
“You’ve never been to highschool before,” Lysander says “Max can look out for you. Besides, your tutor says a place like Delman is perfect for bright students.”
So he talks to my tutor for the first time and that too, to use it against my wishes.
Protests rise to my mouth, but I hold my tongue. I can count on my fingertips the number of times I’ve talked to Lysander without other people present. No matter what I say, I don’t hold enough power to change his mind.
And I know very well how throwing tantrums ends.
“Have you talked to Max?” I try my last card “Is he alright with this?”
“Yes.” Lysander says, catching me off guard “I discussed with both him and Alexander. We all agree that you need to go out of the house more often.”
So they all decided my life choices without me. How nice. God knows what Max is planning to do this time.
“I’ll think about it.” I promptly turn away and put my face in my hand.
“Good. Let me know when you’re ready to join.”
I’ll have to ask for Clark’s help. He knows how to get through Father, so maybe he can sway him.
There is no way I’m going to Delman High. No way in hell.
…
“I don’t think it’s such a bad idea.”
I shoot Clark a betrayed look, crossing my arms across my chest.
“You know I can hold a grudge, Clark.” I say calmly “You turn against me once, and there’s no coming back.”
Currently, we’re sitting in the mess he likes to call his office. I told him about my conversation with my father, and his reaction was exactly what it is to everything else. ‘Just go with the flow.’
“Just go with the flow,” My godfather leans back in his chair behind his desk, coffee cup in hand “Delman has a pretty fancy layout. Maybe you’ll like it.”
I shake my head, sipping my own coffee, “How you became a detective with that mentality is beyond me.”
Clark hmms, dark hair falling over his eyes. It’s more disheveled than usual, just like his office. He also looks like he hasn’t shaved in days.
He looks more affected by Mom’s death than me.
Clark is there in my oldest memories. He was that family friend who was at my every birthday and school ceremony. He and Mom were always close. In all the years mom spent sleeping in the hospital, I just… got used to it. I don’t think Clark did.
Deep grey eyes snap to me, “You’re judging me, aren’t you?”
I pretend to be immersed in my coffee, tone nonchalant, “Do you think I’m a judgmental person, Clark? How rude of you.”
“Being able to judge another person’s state of mind is a compliment,” Clark says, setting his cup aside “I can talk to your dad, but I doubt he’d change his mind. He seemed worried about you when we met at the funeral, Eva.”
I huff lightly, an old disappointment blooming in my chest. Maybe he really was worried, maybe he cares about me in the ways he’s capable of.
But I haven’t felt like there was someone worrying for me since the day mom got hit by a drunk driver. I haven’t felt supported, protected or cared for since the day I entered Richmond Manor.
Maybe I’m just ungrateful.
“Any school other than Delman or my previous academy is fine,” I say, setting down my own cup “I don’t want to run into people who know me.”
If I can’t escape the situation entirely, I can at least negotiate.
I get up from the visitor’s chair and walk over to one of the overfilled shelves against the wall. Even if he’s messy, and generally unprofessional, Clark has had a pretty successful career as a detective. I remember the stories he used to tell me when he was working in the police.
“Actually, there’s a reason why I want you to check that place.” Clark says, in a somber tone I rarely hear
I turn to look over my shoulder. He’s staring at his empty cup intensely. I wait for him to continue, but silence stretches out in the office.
“What is it?” Curiosity unfurls in my mind
Clark looks up at me, a sharpness to his expression that I see whenever he’s thinking about a case.
“A girl has gone missing.”
Delman high is known for its extravagant populace. It won’t surprise me if the school hired a detective instantly after a disgruntled, rich parent’s call.
“Are you sure the kid isn’t just playing for attention?” I trace the spines of folders “Who knows? Maybe she had a fight with her boyfriend? Wants some expensive birthday gift from her parents?”
“Eva, we’re talking about the possibility of murder here.”
“Clark, I have my plate full already.”
It could just be someone holding a grudge against the parents. It’s a common enough occurrence in richer circles. The fact that even I, an illegitimate child, has to take a car and driver everywhere is evidence enough.
Clark pulls a file from the stack on his table, “It started with the school year. First it was a boy, and now this girl. They don’t have any link with one another, except for how they leave an envelope full of flowers.”
Now I turn to face him, brows pulled together “Flowers?”
Clark leans back in his chair, fingers intertwined behind his head.
“I thought you were bored.” He says smugly
“Nevermind.” I deadpan, turning away
“Alright, geez,” Clark says with a huff “Thing is, these kids wrote a letter, put flowers in an envelope and then well… turned up dead.”
Ah. So the possibility of murder is actually literal.
I walk back to the visitor’s chair I was sitting in, lean my elbow on the armrest.
“But if they wrote letters, it could just be suicide.” I balance my face against a fist “What did they write?”
“Look at these. They’re pictures of the letters the victims left behind.”
“How professional. Should you really be showing these to a 17 year old?”
Clark gives me a look that says; ‘Normal 17 year olds don’t talk so casually about murder.’
I take his phone from him. The first letter, which I assume is the boy’s by the name Gabriel, doesn’t say much. He’s only apologizing for being a terrible person, asking for forgiveness. His writing is a mess, likely due to hurrying. The girl— Penelope’s letter is more elaborate. She blames her family, her upbringing, her friend circle for ‘pushing’ her to be a terrible person. She apologizes too, but it’s very insincere.
“Who are they talking about?” I hand the phone back
The boy addressed his letter to ‘Death’ while the girl addresses hers to ‘Death angel’.
“That’s the thing,” Clark says “The school thinks there might be some bully group gone too far. The dead children’s families are demanding the culprit, but there’s no solid evidence that it wasn’t suicide so police involvement is difficult.”
So he wants me to attend the school and see if I notice something.
“You want to make me go to a place where kids are dying?” I shake my head, feigning disappointment “You’ve changed, Clark.”
“You’ll be fine.” Clark rolls his eyes “These two had been attending the school since first year. They are also from the same class. The school suspects the culprit to be a classmate. I think it’s someone who knows them for long, given all the apologies.”
“And these two used to be bullies?” I muse
“Bingo.”
I’d be lying if I said I’ve never been immersed in Clark’s cases. As a kid, my favorite games were when Clark gave me info for an old case and I spend whole summer vacations trying to solve them. Mom used to scold both of us for playing with people’s personal information.
But like I said, I have my own problems.
“They should’ve contacted a detective who looks super young and made them go undercover,” I say casually “I’m not getting involved in some kid’s revenge.”
I glance at the clock and get to my feet. Guess even Clark can’t convince my father to change his mind. Maybe I should tell him about this disappearance thing. Maybe if he’s so worried for me, he’ll change his mind.
“The school has a dorm.”
I still in my spot, narrow my eyes at the detective in front of me.
Clark grins, “The most I can do is convince Lysander to let you go to the dorms. That way, you get to stay away from your family, while he gets to send you to the school he wants.”
“And you get a free spy for your case.” I say, shaking my head “Low move, Clark.”
“Moral ambiguity is the definition of detective work.” Clark also stands to his feet
He extends a hand towards me, the way he’s done countless times in my life. From helping me up after falling from my bicycle, to help me get up after crying on the hospital floor.
He gives me a sharp smile.
“Do we have a deal, Evangeline?” He asks “Information from the school in exchange for negotiating with your father?”
In my arrangement of home schooling, I got to see my brothers and other relatives of school age that live in the neighborhood half the time. If I attend school with them, and run into them at the Manor, that makes it full time red zone.
But this, this would shift things back to half time.
And there would be no servants to give me scoffing looks, no family gatherings I can’t pretend I’m too busy or sick to attend.
Inner peace in exchange for keeping an eye on a bunch of students.
“Alright,” I put my hand in Clark’s “It’s a deal, Mr. Clark Greisen.”
And we shake.
