“Why not?” I said, smiling down at Owen.
I was shaken by my exchange with Seth and I almost told Owen that I didn’t like Uncle Seth either, but nine-year-olds have a habit of broadcasting secrets.
“He’s mean,” Owen said. No kidding, I thought. I trembled as I remembered the force of Seth’s grip and the crazed look in his eyes.
“She can come with me.” Seth’s voice cut through the air. “Let’s go, Hannah.”
I blinked at Nate and Seth. They were both staring at me.
“Excuse me?”
“I said let’s go. You’re riding with me.” Seth strolled toward the Bentley.
I shot a pleading look at Nate. Fuck, what could I say? I don’t want to ride with your sociopathic brother who assaulted me in your house?
Nate was oblivious to my discomfort. He breezed up the driveway and took Owen’s hand.
“How did it go with Shapiro?”
“Fine, it … went fine.” I forced a smile. It went terribly. I needed to call Matt ASAP and tell him about the lawsuit. But right now, I had more pressing problems, like psycho Seth.
Valerie swept out of the house and took Madison’s hand. She smiled at me. I smiled back, but I felt queasy. I was trapped—again.
“Well, we’ll see you there,” Nate said.
“Yeah … see you.”
Seth stood by the passenger-side door of his car and gazed at me. I stalked over and climbed in without looking at him.
“My lady,” he quipped.
Seth smiled as he got in.
“It’ll warm up in here soon,” he said. His leather gloves creaked on the wheel.
I stayed quiet as he spoke, and after he spoke. I planned to stay quiet the whole way. Don’t engage him. Don’t look at him. Get a ride back with Nate.
We wound through Nate’s neighborhood and I tried to focus on the mansions instead of the oppressive silence in the car.
“I hope you’re not waiting for an apology,” Seth said.
I closed my eyes and clutched my purse.
“You know, it’s forty minutes to the cemetery. At least.”
I sneered. Did this asshole think I couldn’t freeze him out for forty minutes? I could freeze him out for a lifetime.
“Presbyterian cemetery,” he went on. I opened my eyes and watched him on the edge of my vision. He didn’t look psychotic. He looked tired and irritable and bored. He watched the road as he rambled. “Oak Grove Presbyterian Cemetery. Our parents have headstones there. Just markers. I’ve got a plot, too.”
Seth grinned at me suddenly. I flinched and pressed against the door. Panic flooded me. I gripped the door handle.
“Please.” Seth shook his head. “Don’t jump from my moving vehicle, okay? I don’t need that shit. I’ll happily let you out at the next stoplight.”
I swallowed.
“No,” I said. “Just drive.”
“She speaks.” He chuckled. “Happy to ‘just drive.’ Call me Chauffeur Seth. Oh—Shapiro wanted me to give you this.” He dug in his jacket pocket. “He’s leaving right after the service, otherwise I’m sure the good doc would give it to you himself.”
Seth produced a folded paper and tossed it onto my lap.
“The doc?” I unfolded the page. The car had warmed and my heart rate slowed. Maybe I was freaking out about nothing. Sure, Seth had acted crazy back at the house, but he was probably trying to scare the truth out of me. He probably really believed I wrote Night Owl and that I was turning a profit at his dead brother’s expense.
I would be just as harsh if someone used Jay or Chrissy like that.
“Yeah, the doc. Doctor Shapiro. He makes our problems go away.”
“Lucky you.” I scanned the printout. It listed details of the case—the time line of events, dates, and Web sites. “It must be nice to have a lawyer on call whenever you get into trouble.”
“Hey, whatever you say, Hannah. Maybe we have a lot of trouble.”
I rolled my eyes. I was about to reply—maybe you wouldn’t have so much trouble if you didn’t go around assaulting strangers—when my eyes stopped dead on the page.