Page 136 of Double Bucked

Who are you, Claire?

The daughter of a criminal?

The fiancée of an assassin?

Or are you something else?

The most vicious monster of them all, perhaps.

In that moment, I make a decision. I spent the past five years running from Belleflower, but now…

I have to get to the bottom of this. Once and for all.

This ends with me.

I sit in the big leather chair and stare at my own image. I stay there until dawn creeps up, her golden fingers touching the bookshelves. I go back to the bedroom and quietly get dressed. Everett’s watch sits on the bedside table. I wrap it around my wrist. I write a note on the Belleflower Queen invitation and leave it folded on the bedside table. With Ransom and Everett asleep in bed, I slip out of the house and taste the cool, early morning frosted air.

43

CLAIRE

Isaddle up Chaucer. Together, we ride to the Dagney estate.

There are dark cars parked outside. Big flower decorations drape from the balcony. The old, Grecian-style columns remind me of a time long ago.

It’s a beautiful, cloudless day.

I tie Chaucer up and hop off. My boots hit the freshly manicured lawn. I can smell the earth.

I turn the dial on Everett’s watch. I press it inward, and a small, blue light clicks on.

“Testing, testing,” I say. “I hope there’s someone on the other end of this. I’m Claire Preacher. It’s six forty-five on September fourteenth. I’m entering the Dagney estate, 24 Calhoun Road, with the intent of finding the man who murdered my father.” I pause. I think about Ransom and Everett…who I left in bed. I’m sorry. “If I don’t make it out,” I add. “Well. Assume I found him.”

Arris stands on the porch, as though he’s been waiting for me. He’s wearing a light blue suit with a straw hat, satin blue ribbon around the middle.

When he smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkle. He spreads his arms.

“There she is,” he announces. “Our Belleflower Queen.”

“Arris.”

Jade has melted into one of the seats on the porch that’s woven into a teardrop shape. In her bright yellow dress, she looks like a canary in a cage.

“The prodigal daughter arrives,” she drawls. She lifts her mint julep in toast. She’s already slurring her words.

“Come.” Arris moves his hand to the small of my back. “The girls are waiting.”

As soon as we enter, we’re greeted by a flurry of young women. They wear light, bright dresses and tiny rings on their wedding fingers.

This year’s Belleflower Princesses.

I was one of them, once.

“You’re here! Come on! You have to see your dress!”

I can’t help but laugh. Was I that enthusiastic when I was their age?

Yes. Of course I was.

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