Hero Complex (21 page)

D
EVON MADE SURE
M
AYA
had fallen asleep before she pulled out the fragile diary and finished the last of its worn pages. Maya needed frequent bathroom stops, and Devon tried to be supportive. But it was all about management of the pregnant girl. There wasn’t a hint of what Devon would get in return for her service.
Maybe Maya doesn’t know
, Devon thought, and texted Bodhi as much.

Her mom didn’t put up a fight when Devon had texted that she’d be spending another night at Ariel’s. Apparently it was a “busy time” at the hospital.

Lies upon lies upon lies …

She tried to stay awake as they drove through Montana and Nevada, but nodded off after a huge silent meal the three of them shared at a rest stop before they reached the California border sometime in the middle of the night.

Devon woke up around dawn when the car jerked. They were exiting the highway—the Berkeley hills suddenly in front of her.

“Devon, we’ll drop you off first.” Maya said.

Devon sat up straighter, stretched, and forced herself to fully wake up. “Wait, no. I thought we were dropping you off first.”

“I have to see Eric before the trial.”

“That’s today?”

Maya nodded.

“Then I’m going with you. Eric made me some promises, and trial or not, he’s not backing out of them.”

“Devon, I don’t think you’re really grasping what’s going on today,” Maya began impatiently, sounding very much like her mother. “There’s—”

“Stop it. I sprang you from St. Mary’s so you could get on the witness stand to defend a guy that killed his own brother out of greed. Trust me. I get the gravity of the situation.”

“If you think we’re so awful, why’d you come get me?” Maya asked, staring out the window.

“My scholarship is riding on it, remember?” Devon fumed. “Not like you’d ever know what this is like with a father like yours, but not everyone can afford a Keaton education. I need to get back in somehow. And besides, I actually think Hutch would have wanted me to.”

Maya turned to her and blinked. Her lips quivered. The color had drained from her round cheeks. “Pacific Heights, then, please, Kevin,” she said in an uncertain voice. “You can drop Miss Mackintosh off afterward.” She paused. “Devon, thank you.”

A
LINE OF PARKED
cars—none of them very fancy, all of them official-looking—took up the block in front of Eric’s house. Of course; the trial began today.

Kevin pulled the SUV right into the driveway, which made Devon self-conscious. She wanted to be here but didn’t want her arrival to be a major announcement … especially now that she knew that Maya was unaware of her scholarship problem.

Eric had blackmailed Devon without telling Maya the specifics.

That was a problem. In a weird way, it humanized him even more. He knew things Devon didn’t, but he didn’t want Maya to be part of whatever sordid business lay at the heart of this mess, the business that endangered Devon herself. Devon smoothed back her hair and made sure she didn’t have any crusted eye boogers or drool on her face. In the intervening silence, Maya had applied makeup and redone her elegant bun.

“I’m going in first,” Maya stated, climbing out of the car.

“Whatever works.” Honestly, Devon was grateful. She had no idea what they were walking into. Before Maya had even closed the door behind her, Bill and Mitzi Hutchins stepped out of the front door in crisp business attire. Spotting Maya, Mitzi put a hand to her heart and hurried back inside.

C.C. and Edward Junior bolted through the front door moments later.

On instinct, Devon lunged back inside and closed the door behind her. C.C. wrapped her arms around Maya, eyes squeezed tightly shut; she shook her head as if fighting back tears. St. Mary’s had definitely sounded the alarms. So had Keaton, probably …

Devon ducked down in her seat. Best not to be associated with Maya’s dramatic return if she could help it—though it was probably too late for that. She was in this, totally and completely. She sat back up and peered out the window.

C.C. held Maya at arm’s length, her voice getting louder. Maya shouted back, and C.C. slapped Maya across the face. Mitzi and Bill cringed along with Devon. She watched as they slipped back inside, and Edward Junior pulled C.C. away.

“We’re fixing it. Why don’t you trust me?” Maya screamed at her mother, loud enough to hear through the car windows. Eric appeared at the front door in a dark suit. Clutching her cheek, Maya ran into his arms. C.C. threw up her hands and turned her back on them. Her eyes narrowed and settled on the SUV. Devon’s heart beat faster as she locked eyes with C.C.

“Let’s go,” Devon said to Kevin.

“You sure?” He shifted the car into reverse and backed out the driveway.

“I’m sure.” Devon watched as Eric held Maya close. In Devon’s side mirror she could see Eric watching the SUV as it drove away. C.C. kept her gaze glued to the car. She yanked out her cell phone and stormed back to the house.

Devon sat straight in her seat as the car sped away from Hutchins Villa-turned-prison. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from a number she didn’t recognize.

Meet me at Huntington House tomorrow at 11. I know Eric had a role in convincing you to free my daughter. We need to talk.

Her mom was at work (or so she claimed), so Devon paced the house until Bodhi called at 8:53 in the morning. He was in a hurry, so she let him talk. Apparently he and Raven were on their way to Eric’s trial. The prosecuting attorney wanted to demonstrate their relationship with Reed, to show why Reed would have changed his will and cut Eric out of his inheritance in favor of Hutch, creating Eric’s motive for wanting Hutch out of the picture.

Bodhi would call with more as soon as he could.

Devon stared out the window after he’d hung up. She wondered if Eli or Khaki would appear. She had a feeling they wouldn’t. Strange—even alone in the house, her future a question mark—she felt truly safe for the first time in a while.

B
ODHI
’
S NEXT CALL CAME
at the stroke of five.

Eric Hutchins was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter and sentenced to three to five years in San Quentin, minimum security.

Devon wasn’t sure how she felt, other than sick. Again, she listened as Bodhi relayed the proceedings: how Eric had cried over his addiction to his pain meds, his unstable thoughts, and his promise to attend rehab for as long as the judge wanted. Add that to Maya’s teary defense of “the father of my unborn child, who arranged for me to be present to testify on his behalf,” and the judge seemed to revel in the leniency.

Devon couldn’t believe it. After everything, Eric would be across the Golden Gate on waterfront property. He’d probably spend those years working on his tennis serve.

“I figured your mission was a success,” Bodhi concluded, out of breath.

“How?” Devon cried.

“Maya was there. You sprang her.”

“Yeah, but I have no idea about my scholarship, and Maya’s mom knows I’m the one that brought her back. She wants to have lunch with me tomorrow.”

Bodhi drew in a sharp breath. “Just you and her? Jeez, that’s intense. Why?”

“Wish I knew. It’s at Huntington House. Should I just not go?” The more Devon thought about it, the idea of possibly bumping into Eli again seemed not only scary, but kind of reckless. Eric had successfully blackmailed her, and now he was certain of his fate. Maybe he had no intention of honoring his end of their bargain.

She felt the color drain from her cheeks. Of course he didn’t. He was a psychopath.

“That’s where you saw her before, right?” Bodhi asked. “And Eli was there? There’s something about that place.”

Devon fell onto the couch. “I know. I mean, I know rich people love having a club or something to go to, but it feels like something else.”

“Tell you what, I’ll take you over there tomorrow. I’ll wait outside. No one will know I’m there. I don’t want you there alone for something like that. Plus …”

“Plus?” Devon breathed.

“I kind of missed you,” Bodhi said.

Devon glanced around her empty house, wondering again about her mother’s conspicuous absence.

“I miss you, too,” she said. “It’s nice to be missed.”

B
ODHI
’
S
VW
BUS WAS
so glaringly out of place idling in front of Huntington House, that Devon was tempted to ask him to move it. With tired eyes, Devon looked up and down the block. She didn’t see Eli or anyone suspicious. She realized her palms were sweating. She rubbed them against her “formal dress”—the same exact charcoal-gray one-piece she’d worn to her first interview with Mr. Robins to convince him to let her be a peer counselor.

It still fit. Actually, it was a little loose.

“I don’t know why, but I’m nervous,” she said.

Bodhi leaned out of the driver’s-side window and kissed her cheek. “She’s just a person. And she knows what you need to know. Besides, you look better than she ever could in a million years. That matters to people like her.”

Devon smiled in spite of herself. “Thanks, that’s totally not helpful.”

“Go in there, see what she has to say, let her play her little game, and then you’re out of there. I’ll be circling the block. If you see Eli or anything that freaks you out, you text. It’s a public place; she can’t touch you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I saw her slap Maya the other day when she came back from Montana. It was pretty gnarly.”

“You’re not Maya. You’ll be fine. Now let’s go get this over with.” Bodhi kissed her again. “I’ll be right here.”

D
EVON WAS RELIEVED THAT
Zara wasn’t working the front desk. She couldn’t handle another fake smile. It was all she’d had with her mother since last night—fake smiles and meaningless chatter about how proud Mom was that Devon was owning up to her mistakes and facing an uncertain future.

Then again, Devon was just as guilty. She hadn’t spoken to Ariel since the summer. Bullshit for bullshit, until the truth came out.

Devon stepped past the hostess podium. Weird—the entire restaurant was deserted, except for C.C. at a table near the window. The whole room seemed set up just for her. Because it probably was, Devon realized. That was the kind of money at stake—money that could drive a boy to kill his own brother.

“Ms. Tran?” Devon greeted her. She cringed at how timid she sounded and forced herself to stand taller as she approached.

C.C. took a sip of her iced tea and smoothed the napkin. “You can sit.”

Devon pulled out a chair. Instantly a waiter appeared with a glass of water. Not Eli. He disappeared back into the kitchen without saying a word.

“My daughter has been telling you a lot of stories, it seems,” C.C. said. She sounded hurried and kept fidgeting with her napkin. “Very convincing ones about needing to be rescued, or about being held against her will.”

Devon thought carefully before she responded. It was like a session in a way.
Let the subject lead the conversation
. “She called me. I was just trying to help.”

C.C. leaned back in her chair, eyes still on her napkin, a bitter smile on her lips. “Well, I’m just a terrible mother, and there’s nothing to be done, is that right?”

“I never said that,” Devon responded evenly. Yes, C.C. was a
terrible mother. But when someone was angry, that anger often hid hurt. Maybe C.C. was feeling like an
underappreciated
mother. It would make sense, given her narcissism.

“How much do you know about your father, Devon?” C.C. asked.

Devon shrugged, wondering if Maya’s mom was steering the conversation toward how she wanted to make up for being a bad mother by being a good grandma to the child of a convicted killer. “Not a lot. But that’s by choice. My mom did the sperm bank thing. Says she really wanted a baby, and she was getting older, and she didn’t want to wait for the right man to come along and miss her window.”

“Yes, well, it is all about windows, isn’t it?” C.C. said. “Your mom’s a beautiful woman. She’s smart. Do you really think she couldn’t find a man?”

Devon bristled inwardly but was careful not to show it. “I don’t know. She’s got pretty exacting standards. I didn’t know you knew her.”

“I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but in a way, it’s my right. Your mother didn’t go to a sperm bank. She had an affair. With a married man. Someone who wanted to keep his mistakes quiet.”

C.C.’s voice seemed to fade. Devon couldn’t breathe. Was her phone ringing? No, it was that her stomach suddenly felt like it was on vibrate. Blood flooded to her feet, leaving her light-headed. She wondered if puking right here, right now, would be a problem in this deserted, awful place.

“I guess that makes you … illegitimate,” C.C. continued. “It’s a shame they don’t say
bastard
anymore. That word sums it up so nicely.” She took another controlled sip of her tea.

Is this witch lying to me?
Devon wondered, her desperate thoughts swirling. It couldn’t be true. Yet … if this was the truth, how did C.C. Tran of all people know?