Ruthless Kings (Windsor Academy 2)

“That’s my dad’s corporate apartment. It’s supposed to serve as a place to stay for any big dollar clients or vendors that come into town, but I’m pretty sure my dad uses it as his own personal fuck pad.”

"I would say your assumptions are correct based on what I just saw while reviewing the feed. I would also say it's fair to assume he's screwing Mrs. Callahan regularly."

Holy fuck.

“Wait a sec...what feed?”

"Luckily, I had a small camera on me when I followed her into the building. Never leave home without one, right? Anyway, I placed it on a light fixture on the opposite wall, aiming it at twenty-ten's door. I reviewed the feed just now and saw Madeline Callahan leaving the apartment, but not before giving your father a very friendly goodbye kiss. And when I say friendly, I mean they were shoving their tongues down each other's throats, and he was palming her ass."

Gross. I could’ve gone my whole life without that visual.

I shake the thought out of my head. "Sadly, I can't say I'm surprised, but this could be a good thing."

“How so?”

"Charles Callahan and my father have the same antiquated ideal on how a wife should behave. According to them, two of the biggest offenses a wife can commit is not spreading her legs when her husband wants to bust a nut or adultery. They're both grounds for some serious consequences. Hell, my dad is currently filing for divorce from his fourth wife because Vanessa decided that if he can cheat on her, she can do the same to him. If Madeline is fucking my father, I can guarantee Charles doesn't know about it. And when he finds out, shit's going to hit the fan."

“So, what do you want to do?”

I think about it for a moment. “Let’s hang back and watch for a while. It’s in our best interest to keep Charles in the dark for now, but compile any footage of them in compromising positions for when the time is right. I can't have any dissension between them if I have any chance of getting into the fold. I'm too close."

“You got it.”

“What about Peyton?” I ask. “Anything on her yet?”

“Nothing that stands out. Basic rich teenage girl routine—the four S’s: school, shopping, spas, or socializing. She’s been spending more time at the Gale residence lately, but you already know the reason behind that.”

“Right.” I nod. “Keep an eye on her. Any news from your contact in the police department?”

John clears his throat. “This isn’t official yet, but they’re stopping the investigation unless somebody comes forward with new information. They claim they’ve hit a dead end.”

“How can that be?” I comb a hand through my hair. “I know it’s a small town department, but how could they still have found nothing? It’s been five weeks.”

"According to my source, the report will state they've exhausted all their resources and have insufficient evidence. They're saying the elements likely didn't help. With the leaves falling and the heavy showers that rolled up on the mountain, anything useful was likely washed away. Since Jazz never told the cops the perpetrators mentioned having an employer, they've nowhere else to look."

“Fuck.” I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. “Where do we go from here? Do you think she should tell them about the employer thing?”

“No, I don’t. I think she should let them close it.”

“Why the fuck would she do that?”

John sighs audibly. “Because they’re covering something up. My source was personally present when they combed the scene. They found two sets of fresh footprints heading away from the scene, both of which appeared to be male, based on the size and shape of their shoes. Photos and soil evidence were collected. Somewhere along the way, they magically disappeared.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

“Afraid not. When my source questioned it, her supervisor feigned complete ignorance—said she must have been mistaken. The only prints or DNA evidence they have on record belong to you and Jasmine.” John clears his throat. “Somebody with money and influence is definitely involved, Kingston. Who do you know that fits that description?”

“Fuck.” I scrub my hand down my face. “You think my father or Callahan hired those men?”

"It's possible. At the very least, I think one of them knows who did, and they're helping cover it up."

“So, what the hell do we do?”

"The best thing you can do right now is continue acting normal. The same goes for Jasmine. Go to school, go to parties, and whatever else you did before she was assaulted. Don't raise suspicion, but keep your eyes and ears open. If these people think they got away with it, they'll get cocky, which causes people to get sloppy. In my professional opinion, it's your best shot."

“Why would my father or Callahan want Jazz dead? That part makes no sense to me. If they didn’t want her around, why file the paternity affidavit after almost eighteen years? Jazz would’ve never known either of them existed.”

“But Callahan or your father had no way of knowing that for sure. As far as they’re concerned, Jasmine’s a loose end—her mother could have told her everything, which would explain the camera in Jasmine’s bedroom. Maybe Callahan installed it to keep an eye on her. Determine what she knows, if anything.”