Chapter One Hundred and Twenty One
...
"It's not me, Mum! I wasn't even there. It was someone trying to set me up. They're trying to frame me! It was probably Craig, y'know, the carbon copy kid."
"William Theodore Stronghold, stop lying this instant. Do you know what you've done? You admitted who you were in public while someone was recording the whole thing! Your full name was mentioned earlier in the video, too! The security risk alone is going to cost hundreds of thousands of dollars!" Josie snapped.
Will faltered at her words. He thought she was going to say something about ruining their name or Ry's comment about him not being interested, but the security risk was something he hadn't even thought of.
"Yes, exactly. Now do you see what you've done? Every villain out there is going to search for every Stronghold in Maxville until they find us. We'll have to move, change the business name, go unlisted in the phone book for a while. We'll have to wait until this all blows over, of course, but it's just an Internet video - "
"I'm Airborne, son of Jetstream and the Commander."
Josie's tirade stopped as she heard Will's voice coming from the TV. Moving from the kitchen to the living room, she stared in ever growing horror as the blonde bimbo on the news started to report.
"Airborne, Westville's very own Hero has shown his true colours in public and they're not red, blue, and white," Tasha reported firmly. "Following homophobic comments and slurs, the hero was rejected and had a tantrum in front of onlookers, even punching a hole in the deck of a prominent architect's home."
The video showed Will being rejected by Ry all over again and Will screaming something unintelligible as he punched the floor - just like the Commander had done with Royal Pain, like Will had done with Speed, and Airborne had done with Royal Pain. It was a signature move and the cherry hardwood floor looked hypnotic as it swelled out towards the end of the deck, knocking over a man with a cane and dislodging a woman's wig to reveal a cancer bandanna beneath it.
"Airborne has demonstrated his anti-gay views in a violent manner, even going so far as to hurt the frail and elderly in his efforts. For a hero who has sworn to protect all citizens alike, it inspires fear and concern for those in the LGBT-inclusive community."
Will's jaw dropped at the sight of Tasha on the screen, dragging his good name through the mud, just like he'd done to his parents all those months ago.
"That's the carbon copy kid right there, isn't it?" Steve asked, indicating to Craig who was very clear and visible, and certainly not a carbon copy of Will.
On the video, Will was now flying away amid mutters and exclamations from onlookers as they helped each other off the deck carefully, the man with a cane being physically lifted and carried by his boyfriend.
"William Theodore Stronghold! You didn't... you just had to do all of this in front of Trixie, didn't you? I swear!" Josie said, ending with a noise of frustration and throwing her hands up as she flew down to the Secret Sanctum.
"I'm grounded, aren't I?" Will asked his father with a heavy sigh.
Steve glanced away from Tasha and her low cut top - Maxville's News Tonight had never had so many ratings! - and shook his head at his son. "I'm afraid it's worse than that, Will. The security risk is a real thing, son. Why, I did it back in the 80's by accident, and had to spend a month hiding in a bunker until it all blew over."
"A month?!" Will asked in horror.
Steve nodded sagely. "You'll probably have to stay under house arrest for three months. It depends if we can cook something up to get you away from the media's attention. You might have to be home-schooled in that time, too."
"What? No, Dad, please! I can't do that!"
Steve looked at his son seriously, his expression and attention faltering as Tasha laughed on the screen, her whole body moving with the action. "You'll be fine, son. Living in a bunker builds character."
Will groaned and muttered under his breath as he flew upstairs. Maybe Magenta would be more sympathetic to his plight.
...
"When you said help with cleaning up, I didn't think you meant cleaning toothpicks. I've got more splinters than skin right now."
"You could have picked them up with Layla's power, dude."
Warren stopped sweeping and looked over at Adam. "Oh, for fuck's sakes; I forgot."
Adam and Honey both laughed. Warren gathered his power, working on moving the splinters toward the dustpan. In a matter of seconds, the deck was clear of the mess, and Warren sighed in relief.
"Why didn't Layla stop that idiot, anyway?"
"I told her not to; Curtis wanted a feature for the deck," Honey said. "Besides, it would have revealed what she's been doing far too soon."
"Never mind that. You could've told me about cleaning up with Layla's power sooner, Ace," Warren muttered sourly.
"I was waiting to see how long it'd take for you to remember. Then I got bored of waiting. There's a shitton of food inside, so you need to take some with you when you go. We can't eat it all."
"Richard took three containers of the pigs in a blanket, even though Zach said they had more at home," Honey said, grinning.
"When is the fashion week thing, anyway? He needs to stop baking or he'll break an oven," Warren said, shaking his head.
"Don't worry, it's industrial; it won't break for another... hmm, fifteen years," Honey determined.
"Industrial... you don't mean my oven? It's got a lifetime guarantee!"
"Which is why you'll get a new oven in three days. There will be a delay because they'll argue that your power destroyed it and voided warranty," Honey said, cleaning the food that had spilled and been knocked off the tables.
Warren scowled and muttered under his breath about adding a note on the whiteboard for something in fifteen damn years' time.
By the time he finished cleaning the mess that had been upturned out of the bins with Will's stupid stunt, Honey had left and Layla had finished repairing the deck. At Curtis' request, she'd made the replacement wood a different shade to add the circle as a feature to the floor.
"I still say I should have reinforced the deck. Do you know how funny it would have been to see Will punching something and nothing happening?" Layla said, standing carefully on tingling legs and feet, stretching her limbs.
Warren stopped cleaning to look at her, appreciating every line and curve that he could see, bringing up memories of being between Layla's legs, tasting her, fucking her. Layla seemed focused on her task of cleaning and didn't respond at the increase of lust that he emitted from her wrist.
"I am so glad I don't have Donny's power. Stop being a creep and help me clean, you creep," Adam said, pulling a face at him.
"I'm allowed to look at my girlfriend."
"That wasn't looking, that was lusting," Adam corrected, wrinkling his nose.
"Yeah, well, I'm allowed to do that, too. You - why are you powering up?" Warren asked warily.
"Antibacterial acid. Gonna clean all your lusting germs off my deck. And all the other crap, too."
"I didn't know you could make antibacterial acid."
"I can make any type of acid, dude, not just corrosive."
"Any? Really?" Warren asked, watching as Adam started to add a layer of antibacterial acid to the deck.
"Layla can make any type of plant, I can make any type of acid."
"I heard my name?" Layla said, looking to the two of them.
"I was just saying you can make any type of plant, just like I can make any type of acid," Adam said.
"Any is a stretch; I couldn't make manchineel tree until I studied the bark."
"Then you're limiting yourself, like Eth said. We're at full power; there's no limits, other than what we make," Adam said, shrugging.
Layla didn't know what to say to that, and by Warren's silence, she doubted he knew what to say, either.
"Off the deck; I need to clean where you're standing," Adam said, shooing them into the kitchen. "And don't make out in here," he added, turning back to the deck.
In an act of pure rebellion, Layla kissed Warren, grinning as he laughed softly against her shoulder.
"Let's go to the Hive. We can make out in the kitchen there," Warren said, taking Layla's hand.
"Bye, Adam! Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Spattle!" Layla called, Warren echoing her farewell as he led her out to his car.
Layla thought about Adam's words all the way to the Hive and Warren was silent as he drove and parked his car. "You want to train, don't you?" he asked.
"Yes. I want to make out, too," she said with a frown.
"We can do that any time. We need to test what Adam said. I don't feel any different than I did before we were at full power, so maybe I am holding myself back," Warren said, looking at his hands.
"Race you to the training arena," Layla said, already halfway out of the car before Warren registered her words and could undo his seatbelt.
...
"I don't know, Will. You kind of outed me, too. My Mama and Papa are so unhappy right now, I don't think I should even try to ask if I can go out," Magenta said, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced to her door.
"What? I didn't say your name - "
"I was standing right next to you, Will! Of course people, villains, are going to put two and two together!" Magenta hissed, still a little annoyed that Will had had a tantrum anyway.
She didn't get why he was so pissed that Ryuu didn't want to be friends with him. Not only that, but Will had knocked her off her feet with his stunt and he'd left her behind! Malik had left with his cousin soon after, not even bothering to check on her, and she now sported several deep purple bruises to attest to Will's tantrum.
"I've got to go. See you at school tomorrow. You can fly there safely, right?"
"Yeah. I can totally do that," Will said, slowly realising the fact for himself. "Bye, Maj."
"Bye," she said, ending the call just as a knock sounded at her door. "Yes?"
"Layla dropped off some of her bruising gel for you on her way to work. Look at your body, poor baby girl," Mrs. Yolanda tutted, tugging at Magenta's clothes to see the full bruises. "Your boy is not very careful with you. You are more precious than this, querida." (Dearest. Spanish)
"I'm fine, Mami; it was an accident," Magenta replied, shoulders tense as she took the offered jar.
"This time," Mrs. Yolanda said. "What if next time it's not?"
"Will wouldn't hurt me, Mami."
"He already has. Please, querida, think. You say you love him, but you have no money, and you scare me to go out and fight with him when he does this to you."
"It was an accident!"
"I saw the news report and the original video on the tube. You say accident, I say tantrum without thinking of consequences or people around him."
Magenta swallowed the lump in her throat and concentrated on applying the aloe vera gel to her body.
"I worry because I love you, querida. Your Papi, too. You need to think about yourself instead of others, for once. If you are just doing it for money, there are jobs at the Hive. Layla is a nice girl, she will give you a job, like she did with me."
"I don't - wait, what?"
Mrs. Yolanda smiled broadly. "You remember the cookies we ate? I am selling them now. So are half of my friends. The other half are eating them," she added with a boisterous laugh.
"You... Mami, why?"
"I like the extra money on the side. I can buy things for my babies," Mrs. Yolanda said, cupping Magenta's cheek.
"I'm not a baby, Mami!"
"You are still my baby girl," she replied firmly. "You rest now, querida. Just, promise that you'll think about it? You could make lots of cookie dough!"
"It's dough, Mami," Magenta said, rolling her eyes.
"It is both, now. I'll send your Papi up later to say goodnight. Sleep well, baby girl."
Magenta winced as she knocked a bruised arm on her bed frame. "I'll try."
...
"I'm so sorry about Will ruining your barbecue. He shouldn't have done that, just because Ry didn't want to be his friend," Magenta said, frowning.
Layla could feel the combination of amusement and shock from her friends, squeezing on their vine tattoos to stop them from laughing aloud.
"Oh, and thank you for the aloe vera gel; it really helped. Did you guys get hurt?" Magenta asked, looking to Wendy, Jewel, and Heidi.
"I got a few bruises. Nothing broken."
Layla asked Heidi using sign language, another barrier between her and Magenta. Heidi answered, adding in a few more swear words than Layla recognised but could understand the general gist.
"Heidi's favourite shirt was ruined with the mess," Layla translated.
Jewel started signing to Heidi as well, Wendy joining in the conversation.
Magenta looked between them with a frown. "Do you all know sign language?"
"Of course. We wanted to talk to Heidi and have her included in our conversations. Being deaf shouldn't exclude her from anything we do," Layla said firmly.
"Oh. That's a good point. Hello, Heidi!" Magenta said, yelling the greeting.
"No. Don't do that. I'll translate. Super Jesus save my ears," Wendy muttered.
Heidi looked thoroughly unimpressed and signed to Wendy. I can slap her and say it's sign language.
Layla squeezed the vines harder to stop their laughter.
"What did she say?" Magenta asked.
"She was just saying hello back. And she liked your action figure," Wendy said.
"We all bought one," Jewel added.
Heidi signed again, smiling broadly. I melted mine.
"Really?" Magenta asked, surprised. "I didn't think you guys would care."
"Of course we care. You're our friend, Magenta," Jewel said.
A knock at the door stopped Magenta's response and Layla opened the door to see Craig standing there.
"Sorry I'm late. I had to bring a shitton of cookies. Apparently sleepovers aren't proper sleepovers unless we eat our weight in sugary foods."
"I have a dentist appointment tomorrow; I can't eat too much," Magenta said, frowning. "Josie is taking me to get my teeth whitened," she added.
"More for us, then. Hand over the salted caramel and no one gets hurt," Wendy said, laughing.
"I want to hear about the fights against all those villains. How many did you end up fighting?" Jewel asked.
"Ugh, like twenty-five in two days. It was exhausting. The worst thing is I only get paid for two, and it's not even the villain I punched!"
"Wait, what? Why?" Craig asked, settling on a pillow next to Layla and grabbing a cookie.
"Uh, you're staying?" Magenta asked in surprise.
"Of course. It's a sleepover," Craig said, frowning at her.
Realising no one else was saying anything about a boy being at their sleepover, Magenta grabbed a cookie to distract herself, and started talking again. "I only have a contract for Westville, not Maxville, and even if Jetstream and the Commander give us the red phone, their contracts don't change to us. We defeated all of those villains for nothing. Literally," she added, sounding near hysterical.
Magenta swallowed hard and took a bite of her cookie, hoping it would give her time to breathe and focus again. She'd worked it out already: if all of the villains she and Will had defeated had been in Westville, she could have earned over three thousand dollars. With the two villains she'd defeated - without her Hero's assistance, thank you very much - she was barely earning two hundred. And that was gross before taxes. Magenta didn't know enough about taxes to even dare attempt to find out what her net income would be.
"Holy shit, that sucks. But think of the exposure!" Jewel said, translating Magenta's spiel for Heidi.
"The Mayors of both Westville and Maxville said it would be great exposure," Magenta agreed, taking another offered cookie.
Heidi laughed abruptly. She waved at Magenta's indignant expression, signing to the others.
"You can't pay rent in exposure; it's an online comic."
"You're lucky you don't have to pay rent yet. I've been looking at rentals and they're super expensive in Maxville," Wendy said with a sigh.
"But you're only a senior?" Magenta said.
"Exactly. I need to start saving now. My job over summer helped get some money together, but it barely covers the four-week bond, let alone the first two weeks of rent, electricity and Internet connection, water, council rates, or even food. Don't even get me started on furniture. At this rate, I'll have to go into a dorm for college, and that means a shared bathroom," Wendy said with a disgusted shudder.
"Finding someone else's hair in a shower stall is gross," Craig agreed, wrinkling his nose.
"On your loofah is worse."
"Eww."
Magenta laughed at their expressions, choking on cookie crumbs a moment later. Wendy patted her back firmly a few times and Layla offered a glass of water. Her face red and eyes watering, Magenta didn't see the seed in her water as she swallowed and tried to dislodge the cookie from her throat.
"Ouch. Thanks. I'm okay now," Magenta said, handing the glass back and wiping at her eyes. "Shit, that hurt. I think that pecan cookie scraped my throat," she muttered, rubbing at her neck.
"Do you want more water?"
"No, I'll be all right."
"Good. Now, movie, board game, or truth and dare?" Craig asked.
Remembering the last game of truth and dare far too viscerally, Magenta shook her head. "What sort of board games do you have?"
"Munchkins with the super expansion, Cards Against Citizens, and Super Settlers of Catan," Craig said, looking into his bag. "I also have Hero Q&A, y'know, the app game?"
"Heidi votes for Hero Q&A, and so I do," Wendy said, grinning.
"Same," Jewel said.
"It sounds like fun," Layla said, smiling.
"Aw, but Cards Against... fine, app game," Magenta said when she realised they were only playing because Heidi had voted that way.
"Awesome. Now, there's the usual boring trivia version, or the kind where you have to give the wrong answers."
"Wrong ones," Wendy said once Heidi had signed.
"All right. It's the one with this icon," Craig said, showing them all his phone as he navigated to the right app.
Magenta's eyes widened when she saw the background image of his phone: Craig being kissed by two people. "You really are dating two people?!" she blurted out, looking between him and Jewel. "I didn't think that was... y'know, legal."
Craig looked at Magenta, then to Jewel, and shrugged. "I'm allowed to love more than one person, and they both love me. Being in love isn't illegal, is it?"
"Uh, no. Of course not! I just... " Magenta realised she couldn't say what she was actually thinking - it's weird; how do you actually do anything; what happens when you fight; do you all fight or do two try to make the third take a side? It's so, so weird - so she shook her head instead. "Never mind. So, do we just have to call out the wrong answers for the game or do something else?" she asked, hoping they'd get distracted by the game again.
"You have to type the answers. We all see them and we vote on whoever has the funniest to see who wins that round," Layla said, smiling at Magenta.
Feeling supported by her words and smile, Magenta nodded enthusiastically and navigated to download the app. "Oh, my phone data isn't working. What's your wifi password?"
Layla gave Heidi a significant look when Magenta looked to her phone again. Heidi pouted and poked her tongue out in response.
"Oh, it's working now."
Layla signed 'thank you' to Heidi, who signed back reluctantly, then smiled and asked if she could zap Magenta.
Once.
"Ow, fuck! Damn static!" Magenta hissed, shaking out her zapped hand.
Craig laughed. "I'm sure you'll live. C'mon, I want to play already," he said, nudging the box of cookies closer to Magenta.
She took one absentmindedly as the app finally downloaded. "Okay, ready!"
...
"Why are we here?" Victor asked, sighing even as he got out of the car and walked with Connor towards the gym.
"Four reasons: one, you're paying far too much for a gym membership that you don't use."
"You're not allowed to judge me for that. If everyone used their gym memberships, the gyms wouldn't have enough room for all the people. I'm leaving room for the other gym members."
Connor looked over at Victor and raised an eyebrow. "I'm judging you for that answer. Honestly, darling, I doubt that would hold up in court."
Victor huffed. "Fine; what are the other three reasons?"
"Two, you wanted to know how you could fight off Cara. Building strength in a careful and controlled manner will help with that," Connor said, opening the door and holding it for Victor to walk inside.
"I don't want to look like that," Victor said, indicating to a cutout of a man with a thick neck, bulging muscles, and a small head. His head also sported several prominent veins, like he even exercised his face.
"For your body and frame, I think that's a wise decision. It's not that sort of muscle, anyway. We need to work your core muscles around your stomach and back, then increase your flexibility, and then work on your arms and legs. I promise you won't look like that," Connor added as he followed Victor into the gym.
"The last two reasons?"
"Three, I want to show off for you, darling. If you like the way I look now, just wait until I'm covered in sweat and full of endorphins and adrenaline," Connor said, winking at him.
At his words, Victor almost tripped over the mat leading into the locker room. Steadying himself with his cane - it was necessary now in the afternoon and evenings when he was tired and had been standing all day - Victor gripped it tightly and tried not to stare at Connor in his form-hugging gym shorts and singlet. "And the last reason?" he asked, his voice hardly more than a breath.
Connor grinned at him, eyes dark with lust, mischief in every ounce of his expression. "So I can fuck you any time and in any position we want, darling. You'll need core strength for that, too."
Victor blinked and slowly lowered himself to sit on the bench. He definitely should have led with that reason.
Connor grabbed their towels and water bottles, the locker key hanging from the clip on his bottle. "So, do those reasons work for you, darling?" he asked with a broad and teasing grin.
Victor could only nod. He followed Connor out to the main area of the gym and forced himself to think of something else so he wouldn't get an erection in the middle of the place.
"Don't worry, darling. I'll be here to help you every step of the way," Connor promised, still looking mischievous.
Victor blinked and saw a tinge of brown worry over Connor's heart, pink love layered over it, red lust in pulsating waves, green intelligence, and puce determination.
No one looks good in puce, Victor thought to himself, though he was sure that Connor would probably change his mind.
"All right. I trust you," Victor said, smiling as Connor swelled with turquoise trust and purple pride, the pink love growing brighter.
"Three of the best words I've heard in a long time, darling. Now, let's get started with some stretches, shall we?"
A thread of tan wove through Connor that Victor didn't recognise instinctively. He kept getting distracted by the way Connor was moving and flexing, trying to manipulate his own aching body in similar ways, and lost track of the colour as it ebbed in and out.
Some time later, Connor did a lunge, bending his knee and flexing his body in a very certain way. As he looked up to Victor, he finally realised what the tan colour meant.
"You're trying to tease me," he hissed at Connor.
"Only if it's working, darling," he replied with a wink.
Victor refused to admit that it was working far too well, but he suspected Connor knew already.
...
"Ready to patrol, Shifter?" Airborne asked.
Magenta stepped behind a door, Shifter stepping out a moment later. "Ready, Airborne," she said with a broad and teeth-whitened smile.
Her teeth were still tingling from the dentist's treatment, not to mention the stuff he had slathered on them, and her cheeks still ached from the tooth holder thing that held her mouth open. He hadn't believed her when she said she hadn't eaten sugar in weeks either - the cookies didn't count, obviously - and Magenta was sure that the sadistic dentist had taken his revenge out on her mouth. She supposed it didn't matter so long as someone noticed her brand new whitened smile.
"Don't forget your hair," Airborne prompted.
Her smile faded instantly. "Right. My hair. Thanks," she replied, putting her hair up in two buns.
She inhaled in relief at the familiar action. Despite how much she'd changed - whether she wanted to become a brand new woman or not - Magenta was so relieved that her hair hadn't changed, too. Straightening it every day for school and the outside world was fine, since she could still wear ponytails and her bandanna without anyone realising her alter ego. Her buns made her feel like herself again.
"C'mon, we have villains to defeat."
"Oh, have they started booking fights, then?" Shifter asked as she shifted to her guinea pig form.
"Well, no. But if we reduce the crime rate and save the council money, the Mayor will totally start booking them," Airborne replied, scooping her up and tucking her into his suit.
Considering she had heard the Mayor comparing his brand new and shiny car with the Mayor of Maxville's newer and shinier one, Shifter seriously doubted the council's savings would be going towards them.
...
Layla was busy writing an essay for Communication for Heroes, trying to determine how Jetstream and the Commander could have improved their media release after fighting the Mud Monster, when Frieda knocked on her door. A vine pulsed around her wrist and Layla blinked, her focus returning to the world beyond her homework.
"Layla, dear? There's a police officer here to see you. It's about Greta," Frieda added.
Did they know what she'd done to Greta? Layla thought, a sudden fear taking hold of her mind that the coroner had found remnants of a vine inside of Greta, that the police were coming to arrest her for Greta's murder, that she'd be in Maxville's Super Penitentiary by the end of the day.
Swallowing hard, Layla stood and looked to the window, wondering if she should take the opportunity to escape. "I'll be right down," she said, turning away from the window and her escape, and followed Frieda downstairs to where the police officer was waiting.
If they'd only sent one officer for her, that would be their mistake.
Layla tried not to show her surprise on seeing Detective Fisher in the sitting room. If Donny and Craig had done what they'd said, then Detective Fisher shouldn't remember her or recognise her in any way, Layla reasoned, suddenly wishing for Donny's power so she could know what he was thinking.
"Good afternoon, Miss Bettendorf; I'm Detective Alan Fisher," Fisher said, standing when he saw Layla and Frieda in the doorway.
"Hello," Layla said warily, confused and showing it clearly.
"I'm here to talk to you about your Great Aunt, Greta Auden. Would you mind sitting down?" he asked, indicating to the love seat across from him.
"Is everything all right?" Layla asked as she sat down.
"Unfortunately not," Fisher replied.
When he'd heard Layla's name come up as Greta Auden's next of kin, Fisher had volunteered to tell her great niece of the woman's death himself. He had been so focused on his task of meeting the mysterious Bettendorf from his notebook that he had forgotten something very important: he had the bedside manner of a wooden post and hated these tasks. He usually left it to officers with more charm and compassion than he had, but they were still short-staffed with the flu that had swept through the precinct, and not even his partner was back at work to help him with this. Chief had been wary of Fisher's sudden desire to tell a teenager of their only living relative's death, and said if he received any calls or complaints about this, Fisher would be going to an emotional intelligence workshop.
How did people do this without sounding like robots or complete hard asses? He should have called his partner on the way here, Fisher lamented.
"I'm... sorry to say. Your Great Aunt... Greta, she's... she died. Last week, it looks like. A heart attack, nothing prolonged or, uh, painful. Except for the heart, I mean. I've been told they can be quick."
"Detective, I think that's enough," Frieda said quickly, seeing how pale Layla was.
Relief had flooded Layla so suddenly that she felt dizzy with it, and clutched at the decorative pillow beside her so she wouldn't start laughing hysterically. "I... I think I need some water."
"I'll get it for you, dear. Detective, if you could help me," Frieda asked.
"It's just... oh. Right. Of course," Fisher said quickly, realising she was subtly providing her adopted daughter time to grieve. It would give him time to talk to Frieda without being overhead, too.
Layla sobbed into her hands as they left, gasping for breath, and hoping her laughter would be muffled by the pillow when they were out of sight.
"How long has Layla lived with you, Ms. Bettendorf?" Fisher asked as she filled a glass of water.
"Let's skip the pleasantries, shall we, Detective? You obviously investigated my daughter before arriving and know the answers to the small talk you're planning on asking before bringing out the big guns, correct? Now, what do you really want?" Frieda asked, firm and imposing despite her short stature.
Fisher wished everyone could be so forthcoming and skip the bullshit; it was refreshing after all of the idiotic politics he had to jump hoops through.
"I wanted to ask about her relationship with Peace," Fisher said.
His computer had been cleared of everything he'd search for in the last few months, his work diary had weeks torn out, and the only thing he had to go on was Peace and Bettendorf's names in his home diary. Fisher didn't know why or how it had all happened, but someone had done something, and he instinctively knew it would be bad to search for either Peace or Bettendorf without any probable cause. He received the bare minimum about Bettendorf with her Great Aunt's death, certainly not enough detail to build a case, and he couldn't bring himself to trip whatever trap had been set by trying to delve further.
It would have to be old-fashioned talking and writing with pen and paper, Fisher determined. Which was kind of perfect because he was an old-fashioned kind of guy, after all.
"Warren? Why?" Frieda asked in surprise.
Warren Peace? The name didn't ring any bells. Shit.
"Sorry, wrong person," Fisher said, shaking his head. Frieda didn't offer another name, unfortunately, so he asked another question. "Do you know if there was any bad blood between her and Greta?"
"Do you think that I would have legally adopted Layla if she had been happy living with her Great Aunt?" Frieda asked pointedly. "Unless you start asking intelligent questions, I will refuse to answer."
"You will be obstructing an investigation," Fisher said.
"No, I won't. We both know there's no investigation, Detective. You're here to deliver news to my daughter and you're taking advantage of the opportunity. I'd rather not file a complaint about your behaviour, but if I have to, I will," Frieda said, as though she knew exactly what Chief had threatened Fisher with. "Now, ask what you're really here for, or stop wasting my time."
Fisher swallowed hard at her words and expression. This woman was tougher than anyone he'd met for a long time; somehow, she reminded him of his mother. Wasn't it odd that it was the second time he'd thought of his mother in as many weeks when he made a point not to do that now?
"Why can't I remember anything from the last two months?"
Frieda considered the man before her for a long moment before replying. "You're not ready for that answer, Bradán."
At the sound of his first name, Fisher's eyes widened. He couldn't even open his mouth to ask how she knew. Instead, he ran from the house as fast as his old legs would allow, trying to escape the reminder and his past.
Layla looked into the kitchen, surprised at the Detective's sudden departure. "What on earth happened?"
"Nothing to worry about, dear. He won't be back for some time," Frieda said with such certainty that Layla didn't attempt to question her further. "Drink your water and then we'll call Greta's lawyer about her will."
"I'm not sure what you did, but thank you, Frieda," Layla said, kissing her cheek and accepting the glass of water from her.
"You're most welcome, dear. I'll always protect my daughters," Frieda promised with a warm smile.
...
End of the hundred and twenty-first chapter.
Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!
