Tell Me True (Call Me Cat Trilogy #3)(12)

Cavin looked more disheveled than normal with his white mop of hair in tangles and his clothes wrinkled, but he greeted me with a smile and already had a hot cup of coffee waiting for me.

"Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. I wasn't sure you'd be in your office over summer break." I sat and inhaled the rich aroma of my coffee before sipping.

"Oh, you know us professors. Married to the job and all that." He sat behind his desk, which was piled with papers and old law books opened to various, presumably important, pages. He always seemed to be working on something weighty, but I never really knew what it was and I'm not sure he did, either. I think he just liked to research and study for the sake of it, not for any useful application. It had been a while since his name had appeared in a law journal, something I knew the university was pressuring him about.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"Okay. Better than Jon's family, I'm sure."

Cavin leaned in close, the cuff of his jacket dipping into his coffee cup. "Any leads on who killed him?"

"Not as of yet."

He frowned. "Nothing at all? Surely you have some theories? " He sighed. "So much death so close to you. I worry for your safety. You don't think it could have something to do with the Midnight Murderer do you?"

I froze. No one else believed that a possible scenario, not even Ash. "I… I don't know. It seems unlikely, right? I mean, we already caught two people connected with that night. How many more could there possibly be?" The question sat heavy on me, like a pile of blankets over my face.

"You're right, of course. It's probably not related at all. Still, it's quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

Yes, yes, I did think that. But it terrified me to consider it too deeply, because what would that really mean? If Lucky and Lauren weren't the only ones involved, then what the hell was going on?

"Have you had any luck looking for your mom's research?"

I hesitated. The more people who knew about the notes, the more those I loved would be in danger. I couldn't risk anyone else.

"Um, no. I haven't. I think it's a dead end. I don't think she had anything else… otherwise, someone would have found it by now, right?"

Cavin leaned back in his chair, just now noticing his wet cuff. He scowled at it as if it had deeply offended him, then rubbed the fabric with a napkin. "Right. Too many people have been looking for it for too long. You're right."

His eyes drifted to somewhere else, a vacant expression on his face, until he snapped back to attention with renewed focus. He leaned in and squeezed my hand. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Catelyn. This thing with Jon—it's bad. I don't want you caught in the middle of it."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my stomach fluttering from the intensity of his gaze.

"Just… maybe the Davenports have done this to themselves."





Chapter Eight


The Wrong Davenport


THREE MONTHS AGO


WE CHOSE TO have a small, family-only engagement party. It was that or open it up to everyone and we didn't want that. Ash didn't want one at all, especially if his family had to be there, but Mrs. Davenport insisted on throwing us a party at the Davenport estate.

Which of course thrilled my husband-to-be to no end.

Ash poured his third scotch and downed it like water. He hadn't wandered too far from the bar since we'd arrived, despite my best efforts. And he wasn't the only one overindulging. All the Davenports had been heavy-handed with the drinks since we arrived, and even the Beaumonts weren't holding back as much as they normally did. The undercurrent of tension was thick in the air, and I felt like whatever was holding together the civility of the party could unravel at any moment.

"Ash, come mingle," I said.

"This was a bad idea, Catelyn. Why did we come?"

"Because it's in our honor. Because I want to get to know my new family better."

The Beaumonts, huddled at their own table, looked as uncomfortable as Ash.

I sighed, exasperated, and looked around. The back yard had been lit with thousands of white twinkling lights that made it look like a fairytale with lilting music playing softly in the background and a table filled with enough catered food to feed half the neighborhood.

So far, the decoration was the best part of the night.

Bridgette sat talking with her family while also trying to mingle with Jon.

The back door had been left open and we suddenly heard Mr. Davenport scream at Mrs. Davenport. "You're just a money-grabbing whore!"

I started and looked down at my feet, uncomfortable and unsure what to do.

Mrs. Davenport fought back, shouting obscenities at her husband and calling him a “lifeless prick.”

I shifted uncomfortably and leaned towards Ash. "Are your parents always like this?" I asked him.

His unfocused eyes looked down at me. "Yes. They hate each other. My dad is a lifeless prick, though. He shouldn't be talking to my mother that way."

Jon came over holding his own drink. "Our father is a dangerous man. He's vicious to those who go against him." He turned to Ash and sneered. "But you know all about that, don't you?"

"At least I'm not a Daddy's Boy."