Page 50 of Sinful Storms
“So it is written. So it is decided.”
“It is time for the task to begin,” their leader declared, and the lamp was lit, signalling that their initiate should begin the climb.
Then, there had been the awful jerk of the rope, followed by the cry that would forever haunt his nightmares.
This was never supposed to happen. He had planned everything so perfectly. He’d been so sure that nothing would go wrong.
He hadn’t accounted for the determination of the initiate. He hadn’t accounted for the storm.
Footsteps sounded, and the figure scrambled to his feet. A member of the Brotherhood appeared in the doorway, panting, his eyes wild. “Hurry! The night watchman is making his rounds! We cannot risk being connected to the body.”
The body.
“P-pull up the rope and place it with the robes. I will burn them away from the school grounds, away from any risk of discovery,” the figure instructed hoarsely. “We cannot allow the accident to be traced back here.”
With trembling hands, the figure began to gather up the evidence as quickly as he could, hesitating a moment before tearing the incriminating pages from the notebook.
The Brotherhood would end tonight. No one could ever find out the part they had played in the death of John William Scott.
The parthehad played.
26
ARIA
The Uber dropped me off outside the front entrance of Nottswood Magistrates’ Court. I’d prepared as much as I possibly could, but it was impossible to fully prepare for something like this. Everything Tristan had told me made sense when I looked at it through Professor Watkins’ lens, but it was so much to get my head around. I felt angry, hurt, betrayed, embarrassed…so many different emotions were rolling through me that my head was spinning. But I’d locked them all down tightly. I couldn’t afford to show anything that could be perceived as a weakness. Samuel Smith-Chamberlain was a powerful, intimidating man, and I needed to keep all my wits about me if I wanted to find out the truth.
Entering the court, I was stopped in my tracks by a voice coming from the bank of lifts to the left of the reception area. “Aria?”
I glanced over at the receptionist, who was busy tapping at her computer keyboard while speaking into a headset, and then, making a snap decision, darted over to Knox’s dad. This way, I didn’t have to check in to the building and have to come up with an excuse for being here.
“Mr. Ashcroft.” I eyed the teetering stack of folders in his arms. “Can I help you carry some of those folders?”
His brows rose, but he nodded. “Thank you. That would be great. I didn’t want to make two trips from the car, but perhaps I should have.”
He pressed the lift button with his elbow, and I took a moment to scan the list of names on the plaque affixed to the wall so I knew where I needed to go. Second floor, room 202.
When we entered the lift, he cleared his throat. “Are you going to tell me the reason for your unexpected visit?”
“I’m here to see the judge.” I met his gaze, daring him to say anything, and he shot me an amused look, so much like Knox’s that I startled.
“I hope you’re not in any trouble with the law.”
“Me too.” My words came out far more seriously than I’d planned, and his humour died away.
“Aria, are you in trouble? If you need any help, just say the word.” He glanced around us, even though we were the only occupants of the tiny lift and lowered his voice. “Be careful with Jack. He didn’t become one of the most esteemed judges in the south for no reason.”
“I…I’m okay. Um…it’s not the judge I wanted to speak to. It’s his dad. Tristan’s grandfather, that is. He’s here, right?” I faltered. When I’d contacted Tristan’s mother on the pretence of needing to speak to his grandfather about a graduation gift, she’d assured me he would be found hanging around Jack’s office, advising him in an unofficial capacity.
“Samuel?”
“Yes. I just need to speak to him about something. Um, it’s to do with the former secret society at Hatherley Hall.”
He inhaled sharply. “Knox asked me about that. I wish I had some information to give you, but my father never told me anything while he was alive.” The lift came to a stop, thedoors sliding open, and he tilted his head towards the left in an invitation. “I strongly suggest you come with me. Maybe I can help.”
Could I trust him?
I hesitated until the lift doors began to close again, and he stuck out his foot to stop them. Then, I squared my shoulders and stepped out of the lift.
