Chapter 91 Part 91

Chapter 91 Part 91
North

The lights in the interrogation room were bright, harsh even, buzzing faintly overhead in a way that drilled straight into his skull. They weren’t meant to illuminate so much as expose. The wooden table in front of him was scarred and stained, he wasn’t sure with what, but the dark blotches soaked into the grain made his stomach twist.
His lawyer sat on his left, posture stiff, hands folded neatly on the table. Across from him sat the same two detectives who had spoken to him years earlier about his father’s disappearance. They looked older now, more tired, but there was something sharper in their eyes—something that hadn’t been there before.
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with us again, Mr. St. John,” Detective Blanely said as he shuffled a few case folders together.
“You made it sound like I didn’t have much of a choice,” North said, his voice even, carefully measured.
Blanely didn’t smile. “New evidence in your father’s case has come to light,” he said, and glanced at the man sitting next to him.
Detective Harris opened a notepad, the pages crisp and white, and looked pointedly at North. “You and Axl Reynolds have been friends for a long time, right?”
“Right.” North didn’t elaborate. He kept his hands flat on his thighs, fingers relaxed despite the tension crawling up his spine.
“You then dated Aspen Michaels, correct?”
North wondered where this was going. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Yes.”
“And your buddy, Axl,” Harris continued, pen hovering over the paper, “he was dating Merit Rossini.”
North clenched his fist under the table, nails biting into his palm. “Briefly.”
“So, after two years, you suddenly break up with your girlfriend, and then Charlotte D’Arc basically moves into your house.” Harris leaned back slightly. “You buy her an engagement ring, and you sign a contract, which basically binds you two together.”
North felt the heat rise under his collar. The room felt smaller, the air heavier. “What does this have to do with my father’s case?” he asked.
“I’ll get to that,” Harris said calmly. “We’ve done a lot of digging over the past few weeks, and some very interesting things came to light.”
Blanely smirked, a slow, knowing curl of his lips, and shifted North’s focus away from his partner. “Your girlfriend then moves in with your buddy. They live together for months in a trailer while you galavant through town with Miss D’Arc. Correct?”
“Yes.” North forced the word out, his voice clipped.
“Axl Reynolds breaks up with Merit Rossini a few weeks before graduation and rides off into the sunset with Aspen, your ex-girlfriend, and they shack up together.”
“Yes,” North said, teeth grinding. “Not that I see how this is relevant.”
Blanely leaned forward slightly. “See, this is where it gets interesting. First off, Axl Reynolds is your half brother. You share a father.”
“So?” North said. His pulse thudded steadily in his ears.
“Who do you think the last person was that called Merit Rossini before she disappeared?”
North kept his face blank. “How should I know, Detective?”
“Weston St. John,” Harris said quietly. “Why would a prominent businessman like himself be calling his estranged son’s ex-girlfriend?”
“I wouldn’t know,” North replied. His mouth felt dry now. “I don’t have a close relationship with my father.”
“It’s interesting,” Harris continued, unbothered, “because she went to Axl Reynolds’s concert in Florida and told him she was pregnant. Weston calls her phone. They both go missing.” He tilted his head. “Can you see what I’m getting at here?”
North’s lawyer shook his head—a slight movement, barely noticeable. North caught it anyway. “Why don’t you enlighten me?” North said.
“I think Merit Rossini was pregnant with Weston St. John’s child,” Harris said bluntly. “He got her out of Florida somehow and took care of his problem. I think Merit Rossini is dead, buried somewhere for the last two years.” He leaned in. “I also think that you and your brother didn’t think he could get to her. You knew he would be at that house, and you went there and killed him. You got rid of his body and hoped everyone would think he left the country.”
North’s expression remained stoic. “You have some imagination, Detective.”
“Charlton is fifty-one miles from Cambridge,” Harris said. “You would’ve been gone for less than three hours. There are maintenance stairs in your building that lead to an alley. Nobody would’ve even known you were gone.” His eyes bored into North’s. “Having Axl Reynolds in your apartment was a good cover, with the social media posts taking selfies with fans. Of course, everybody would think you two were hiding out for the night. But I think you snuck out with the intention of killing Daddy Dearest.”
North shook his head and shifted in his seat. “Like I said, Detective, you’ve got quite the imagination.”
“Maybe I do,” Harris said, standing. “And maybe I’m right. Either way, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again real soon, Mr. St. John. Have a good day.”
North didn’t speak as he rose to his feet, his legs feeling heavy. His lawyer followed him out of the interrogation room. Once they were outside in the parking lot, sunlight felt jarring after the fluorescent glare. North turned to the man. “Find out if they’re getting a search warrant for that house in Charlton.”
“North,” Reid said carefully, “is there something I should know?”
“No,” North replied smoothly. “I just want to make sure that any valuables in that house remain accountable for. It’s still St. John property.”
Reid nodded, though uncertainty lingered in his eyes, and headed toward his car. North watched him go before climbing into his own, his expression unreadable as he drove away from the police station.
He drove to a busy coffee shop, the hum of voices and clatter of cups offering a strange sense of cover. He chose a table in the back, positioning himself where he could see the door. He pulled his phone out just as it started buzzing.
“Axl,” he said, closing his eyes briefly.
“I wanted to give you a heads up,” Axl said. “Aspen and I got married a few days ago.”
“Married?” The word hit harder than he expected.
Axl chuckled softly. “Yeah. As in tied the knot. Everything that goes with it.”
North smiled despite himself. He didn’t know if he still loved her, not really, but now he truly had to let go. She’d made her choice. And Axl would never let her go now. “I’m happy for you, brother.”
“Thanks. I didn’t want you to see it on social media. It wasn’t planned. It was just the two of us, on the beach with the resort’s pastor. Otherwise, you would’ve been my best man.”
“We’ve got bigger problems than that, Axl,” North said quietly. “You need to get your ass home. This is serious.”
Axl was silent for a few seconds. “Shit.”
“You should come back,” North said. “We need to talk face to face. This is important, Axl. Very important.”
“Yeah,” Axl replied. “I’ll call you when we’re close.”
The line went dead. North ordered a cup of coffee and wrapped his hands around it, the heat grounding him. Axl was coming back. They’d figure this out. They had to. They needed to get back to that house and get rid of Weston’s body.
The police already knew far more than they should. And North couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that when they opened that trapdoor again, they were going to find more than they bargained for.