“He’s recovered just fine, haven’t you, Dad?” Sullivan says, taking another large mouthful of Sinclair’s coffee before placing the cup back down on the counter.
Hallie looks at me and bites back an embarrassed smile. I walk over and place a hand on the back of her neck, rubbing it with my thumb.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s about what we were talking about with Killian and Jenson,” Denver says.
“Go on,” I urge.
Mal’s eyes flick from Sinclair to Hallie in question, but Denver knows if I’m asking that I’m happy for him to say whatever it is in front of them. I don’t want any secrets in this family. They can destroy everything and everyone if you aren’t careful.
“He’s in New York,” Denver says. “Killian tracked him in on a flight yesterday. We looked back over the past two years. He hasn’t been back here until now.”
“I know some people who could make him disappear,” Mal says, his jaw hardening before he looks between Sinclair and Hallie like he doesn’t want to admit to that in front of them.
“We keep an eye on him,” Sullivan says. “Don’t go acting dumb before we know if he even wants anything.”
“Who?” Sinclair pipes up. “Stop being so cryptic. They made an arrest over the club fire, so who the hell are you talking about?”
I exhale slowly. “Neil.”
Sinclair’s eyes widen. “Why are you keeping tabs on the man Mom had an affair with?”
Hallie’s neck tenses beneath my thumb and she looks up at me. “Sterling?”
“He was there the day we lost them,” I say, taking my hand from Hallie to scrub it around my jaw. I grit my teeth. “He couldn’t have started the fire. But he was still damn well there. And until we know why, I want you all to be on extra alert.”
“No staying at friend’s houses overnight without telling anyone,” Sullivan says to Sinclair. “We need to be vigilant. He’s stayed away from New York all this time. We can’t assume his return is purely an innocent visit.”
“And until we know why he’s here, everyone needs to check in with me daily. I’ll install trackers in all your phones so I can see your location at all times,” Denver instructs.
Sinclair snorts. “Like hell you will.”
“Sinclair,” I warn. “We’re all going to be doing this. And for the time being, I’d prefer you call one of us if you need any rides at night. I don’t want you driving alone after dark.”
She tenses, her eyes sliding away from mine guiltily.
“Seriously? You damaged your car again?” Sullivan says, recognizing her sudden silence that comes each time she’s scraped tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of crystals off that damn car.
“No!” She shakes her head, her eyes glittering in defiance. “God, you always want to blame me.”
“Because it’s always you who hits something. What was it this time? Another parking meter?” Sullivan clips.
“Forget it.” Sinclair sniffs and pretends to leaf through one of the bridal magazines.
“Sinclair?” I coax.
She stops, her shoulders drooping with a sigh as she looks up at me. “It wasn’t my fault. I thought I’d parked in a safe spot.”
“What are you talking about?” Sullivan asks.
“It…” She rolls her eyes. “It’s not that much damage. The workshop said they’ll fix it.”
Sullivan scowls at her and she huffs in annoyance.
“It was vandalized, okay? Someone scraped it and wrote ‘Beaufort Bitch’ across the windscreen.”
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Hallie asks.
