Bad Boy Benefits

(65)

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BRODY

All I could hear was this ringing noise in my ears. The cops were speaking, asking questions I didn't know the answer to. Their mouths moved wordlessly as if everything were underwater and I was drowning. My stepmom was huddled in the corner, her face stained black from mascara tears and her hands shaking. Ryan was sat beside her, awkward and looking at his feet.

My dad was missing.

I said those words over and over again in my head, trying to make sense of them. I'd seen him last night, he was in his office until late. I knew this because the downstairs lights had turned off at 3 am in the morning and I heard him shuffle up to the bed, attempting to be quiet despite the fact he was heavy-footed.

I didn't see him in the morning, but I rarely did. He was out to work way before I opened my eyes for the day. I'd seen that his coat and shoes were missing from the cloakroom. His car was not in the drive and an empty bowl of cereal was still in the sink as if he hadn't been long gone.

Where the hell was he?

My father always communicated with my stepmom if he was going to be late, even if it was only for fifteen minutes or thirty minutes he still let her know. My stepmom had called the office, but instead of my father answering his secretary did and told her that he hadn't shown up for work today. We'd tried to call countless times to only find out he had left his phone at home.

My dad never left his phone at home.

I thought about what he'd said last night, "I will find the person responsible for your mom's death and I will make them pay. One way or another,"

Had he gotten himself into trouble?

The thought made me nauseous and the more I squeezed my mind for the details, the more they slipped through my fingers.

"Listen, son," The cop put his hand on my shoulder and I looked up at him. I couldn't recall anything that he had said to me in the past ten minutes. He had a thick set of eyebrows that met in the middle, the corners of his eyes wrinkled from age and I could smell the coffee on his breath. I didn't want to speak to him. I didn't want to speak to anyone, okay maybe not anyone. There was one person I wanted at this moment.

"Sorry what was the question?" I knew my eyes were wide, looking directly at him, but not really. I could feel my mind beginning to shut down, unwilling to think anymore

Almost robotically his hand rose upwards and passed me a folded piece of paper, "Do you know what this is? We found it in your father's study,"

I knew what it was without having to look at it.

The letter.

He spoke before I could get a chance to, "It was on his desk, we'd gathered it was a crucial bit of evidence since he'd written notes on it,"

He'd written notes? What kind of notes?

I tried to get a sneak peek but the cop's hand was held so tightly around it I didn't get a chance.

"You do realize if you withhold information it could go badly in your favour?"

My head snapped up.