Page 24 of The Guilty One
“Right.” I grab the door and pull it open. The place is small and feels more like a car dealership than an insurance office. I can’t imagine the type of person who’d trust this company with their money.
At the sound of the bell above the door, I hear a set of footsteps walking our way from inside one of the three offices. As Aaron comes into view, I see the moment he realizes what’s happening crossing his face as the smile fades to a scowl. The skin around his eyes smooths out, his lips forming a frown. His usually warm brown eyes go stony.
“What are you two doing here?” he asks, leaning his head back a bit, clearly not pleased to see us.
“Came to pay you a visit,” Dakota says, always cocky as shit.
“I’m working.” Aaron scowls. “You shouldn’t be here. I’ve got nothing to say to you.” He glances up at a camera on the wall that I assume is more for looks than actual security.
“Come on, man. We just want to chat. We’ll be out of here in a few minutes.” I’m actively trying to charm him, as if he’s a client, but to my surprise, it seems like it might be working.
“What do you want?”
I lower my voice. “We should go somewhere a bit more private, don’t you think?”
“Fine.” He turns, waving for us to follow him, and once we’re in his office, he shuts the door. “I have a meeting in a few minutes, so?—”
“No, you don’t,” Dakota says. “I have you fully booked for the next forty-five minutes. Nice to meet you. I’m Carter Wellington the Third.” He looks proud of himself.
It takes Aaron a moment to process, and then he scowls, refusing the hand Dakota’s holding out. “Oh, you ass.”
“I thought the pompous name was a nice touch, didn’t you?”
Aaron sits down, not bothering to tell us we should do the same, but we do anyway. “Alright, let’s just get right to it, okay? I have work to do. What do you want?”
“We’re here about Bradley,” Dakota says plainly, folding his hands on top of the desk.
Aaron’s face pales.
“I take it you heard,” I say.
He nods slowly, visibly shaken. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I heard.”
“Had you talked to him or seen him that day?” Dakota asks.
Aaron swallows. “Why? Had you?”
“You had.” Dakota leans forward, sounding as shocked as I feel. This was just the warm-up to the conversation. We didn’t actually think he’d talked to Bradley that day any more than we’d talked to him. “What did he say?”
Aaron’s eyes shift between the two of us, then down to his hands. “We didn’t talk that day, but we talked a lot in the days…before.”
“Were you two still in touch?”’ I ask. “Before all of this, I mean.
“Look.” Aaron sighs. “What do you want? Why are you here? Whatever it is, just spit it out. I haven’t heard from you in twelve years, so I know damn well this isn’t a social call.”
“We want to know what happened to Bradley,” I say firmly.
“And you think I would know?”
“Well”—Dakota leans back in his chair—“put it this way: we don’t think you don’t know.”
He purses his lips. “I had nothing to do with his death, okay? I haven’t seen or spoken to the guy in years, until he called me. Like he called all the rest of you. He told me the same thing he told all of us.”
“Which was?” Dakota asks.
“He was getting married, obviously,” Aaron says. “This fall. You know this.”
“I want to hear it from you,” Dakota says.