Page 12 of Volatile Vice
The question sends a chill down my spine. I think of Vinnie, of the dangerous world he’s part of and the threats that seem to shadow us. But I can’t bring that into this. It has nothing to do with Brick, anyway.
“No,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I don’t know who would want to do this. I don’t know why anyone would do such a terrible thing.”
“All right.” Harris says, closing his notepad. “We may need to take your statement formally down at the station. For now, if you remember anything, no matter how small it might seem, please let us know.”
I nod, feeling numb. “I will.”
Detective Harris turns to my mother and then to my father, who’s now standing in the entry to the living room. His lips are pursed.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy, can you explain again where you were last night?” Harris asks, his tone measured but firm.
Dad clears his throat, glancing at my mom before speaking. “We were out for dinner and a movie. We got home late, probably around midnight. We didn’t check Raven’s room because we assumed she was already in bed.”
“And you didn’t notice anything unusual when you got home?”
“No,” Mom says, her voice shaky. “We went straight to bed. This morning, I went to check on Ray, and that’s when I…” She chokes back a sob.
“Why didn’t you hear anything during the night?” Martinez asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Our bedroom is on the other side of the house,” Dad explains. “We didn’t hear anything unusual.”
Harris and Martinez exchange a glance, and then Harris turns back to me. “Ms. Bellamy, we’ll be in touch. And remember, if you think of anything else, please contact us immediately.”
“Jeremy,” Dad says, “your father and I have known each other for years. Talk to him. He’ll tell you we had nothing to do with any of this.”
“I’m well aware of your standing in this community, Mr. Bellamy,” Harris says. “I’m just doing my job.”
As they leave, a hand touches my shoulder. I turn to see my mom, her face etched with worry and fear.
“We’ll get through this,” she says softly. “We’ll find out who did this.”
I lean into her, drawing strength from her presence. “I hope so, Mom. I really hope so.”
Because frankly? I’m scared out of my wits. I still don’t know where Vinnie is or why he left. And I’m not even sure I’m safe in my own home.
My father no doubt knows experts in the security field. I could probably get someone out to look at it today. But no way am I going to ask my father. Not after what he and Mom have been through. I’ll call Falcon. His friend Leif Ramsey knows security better than anyone.
“I talked to Steve Palmer,” Dad says. “He says to cooperate with the investigation. He didn’t seem too worried.”
Mom rises. “I think we could all use some coffee. And breakfast.”
God. The thought of food… But Mom is right. I have to force something down. I didn’t even look in my kitchen when I left this morning. The spaghetti marinara I made for Vinnie last night is probably congealed and disgusting by now. We didn’t eat it. We went straight to bed after the drone incident.
My God, what is happening in my life?
I haven’t eaten since the sandwich I had at noon yesterday at my house.
I stand. “Sure, that would be great. Two scrambled eggs and?—”
“Toast,” she says. “You’ve got it, Raven. And I want you to drink a big glass of orange juice for me, okay? You need your vitamins.”
I nod, even though I hate the stuff. “Of course, Mom.” I follow her into the kitchen.
I get what she’s doing. She’s committing to her routine. Trying to stay with familiar things to get her mind off the horror. Who can blame her?
She pulls a pitcher of OJ out of the refrigerator, pours a large glass, and sets it on the table. “Sit,” she says.
I obey her, but my body does not want to sit. My nerves are having a field day under my skin. I feel like I need to keep moving. Except that I don’t want to keep moving. I want to crawl up on my bed inside a blanket and forget everything.