Hate me

I find Trent typing something on the computer in his office later that night. 

Swallowing my pride, I knock on the door. 

Surprise crosses his features when he sees me. “Aspen, come in.” 

“Remember how you said I could come to you if I had a problem?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose.  “Christ. What did my piece of shit son do now?” 

“Nothing,” I quickly say. “This isn’t about Knox. This is about Ca—” I catch myself and clear my throat. “Catching a murderer. There was a woman’s body found at Devil’s Bluff yesterday.” 

“I’m aware.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Evidently, the victim’s father is a big wig with co

I raise a brow. “Why do you say that?” 

He exhales sharply. “Because the victim was a stripper at a classy joint across town called The Bashful Beaver.” 

I try my best to keep my expression neutral. “Oh.” Confused, I rub my forehead. “Why would that be a waste of time?” 

It’s clear by his expression that he isn’t enjoying my line of questioning. 

“Well,” he drawls slowly, like I’m an infant who can’t comprehend anything. “In my experience, girls like that reap what they sow. Most of the time they’re involved in prostitution and drugs. It’s no wonder most of them end up dead. Not to mention, it’s a complete waste of tax dollars and resources to run around trying to track down the pimp, dealer, or john who offed them.” 

His harsh words cut like a knife. 

That might be his experience, but it’s not mine. Most of my colleagues are trying to put themselves through school or put food on the table for their kids. 

Plus, whether or not she was a stripper should have no bearing on conducting an investigation. 

“But she was murdered,” I whisper, my chest caving in. “Right here in Black Mountain. Doesn’t that—”

“Aspen,” he interjects, concern crossing his features. “You have nothing to worry about. Your father is an FBI agent who sleeps with a loaded gun next to his bed every night. I’d never let anyone hurt you. You’re safe here.” 

“Stepfather,” I correct, bile working up my throat. “And it’s hard to believe I’m safe now when the people who should be taking murders seriously aren’t.” 

With that, I turn on my heel, so infuriated I could scream. 

I pace the floors of my bedroom. I need to do something. 

Part of me wants to call Leo and convince him to talk some sense into his brother, but I know he’ll only have a bunch of questions for me. 

Questions I can’t answer without outing myself. 

I stop pacing when another thought occurs to me. 

There is someone who knows my secret. Knox and his father might not get along, but maybe if Knox speaks to him, Trent’ll have a change of heart. 

Feeling a new surge of energy, I exit my room and trudge to the staircase leading down to the basement.

Only to find the door locked. 

I knock a few times, but there’s no answer. 

Huffing, I walk over to the window. Knox’s jeep is in the driveway, so he’s definitely home. 

I walk around the house to the outside entrance of the basement. 

Exasperated, I knock a few times on that door, but I still don’t get a response. 

I’m peeved that he’s intentionally ignoring me. I’m about to trek back into the house, but a soft crying sound snags my attention. 

When I shoot my gaze out toward the backyard, I see something small, white, and furry. 

I approach and quickly realize it’s a kitten. Judging by its tiny size and very weak cry, the poor thing is starving. 

Starving and alone. 

I brush my hand along his fur, hoping I don’t startle it away. However, the kitty is so tired, it makes no protest about being touched. “Hey, buddy. Where’s your mama?” 

Because a kitten this small is definitely still nursing.  

I glance around the yard, hoping to find a larger cat somewhere…but there’s no sign of her.  

“What are you doing?” 

I jump at the sound of Knox’s voice behind me. 

Turning my head, I look up at him. “Did you know there was a kitten in the backyard?” 

His face scrunches as he glances down. “No.” 

He starts to walk inside, but I halt him. “Where were you? I knocked on your door.” 

He gestures to the sweatpants and damp t-shirt he’s wearing. “I went for a run.” His eyes narrow. “What do you want?”

Telling him about Candi is going to have to wait because I need to get some food into this kitten. 

“Right now? A can of tuna.” 

His lips curl. “You shouldn’t feed strays.” 

“If I don’t, he’ll die, asshole,” I shoot back, glaring at him. 

Visibly a

I pet the kitten, trying my best to console him. “Hang on, little guy. You’re go

A few minutes later, Knox returns with an open can of tuna. “Here.” 

I place it in front of the kitten, but he’s so lethargic, he doesn’t move. Not even when I place some on my finger. 

“Come on, baby,” I urge. “Take one little bite.”  

“Maybe he wants to be left the fuck alone.”  

“He’ll die if I leave him alone. Something must have happened to his mother.” Swallowing my pride for the second time tonight, I utter, “There’s an emergency vet hospital twenty minutes away. Do you think you can give me…us…a ride?” 

He looks like I just invited him to a tea party. “Fuck no.” 

Frustration courses through me. “I’ll do whatever you want, okay? I just really don’t want him to die.” 

Lord knows I’ve had enough death for one day. 

Gripping his neck, he looks up at the night sky and mutters a curse. “Fine, but you’re leaving him at the vet. My father’s allergic to cats and he’ll lose his shit if we bring that thing in the house.” 

“I won’t bring him inside the house. Promise.”