Page 9 of Vermilion Desire

“Where are your morals?” she asks back with sass lacing in her voice.

Beth Junior comes in the lab with an eyebrow raised to her pale hairline; she glances swiftly to the screen of the computer before the realization hits her face.

“I didn’t know you’re—”

“Not interested,” I interrupt. “This is for research.”

She shrugs, unaffected by the abrupt denial from me. “You’re not the only one that has a vested interest in him.”

“Oh?” I tease, a grin appearing on my face as she sits in the other chair. “Don’t tell me you have a love interest in an accused murder?”

She rolls her eyes, lifting up her nails to be inspected with bored eyes. “Beth Senior and I have an on-going bet to see if he dies.”

“Where are your morals?” I throw the question back over my shoulder to Beth Senior.

She flicks the back of my head and the hollow sound echoes in my ear. I bite back a wince, glaring at her, and Beth Senior cracks a smirk.

“His family’s generations have been littered with illnesses. Many on the internet broke down his family tree and found that the Berkshire family has a long history of inbreeding. It’s a far-fetched concept since it hasn’t happened in over one hundred years.” Beth Junior drops her nails on the table, forming a smooth tempo to fill in the silence.

“It’s a safe bet that he has something, too, but it could be dormant.” Beth Senior comments.

I offer the other suggestion. “Or he could be hiding it.”

Neither women reject that idea because, as researchers, we cannot set down our answers until it had been exhausted by other challenges to prove that it is wrong.

“He’s a damn good actor then.” Beth Junior claps her hand in amazement. “Any illness comes with pain, and I doubt no one in his life has not seen anything.”

“Timing is everything,” I mention the other possibility. “He’s either really lucky or he times out things.”

Both Beth’s look at each other for a moment, eyebrows knotting and lips pursing. “Implausible. Pain is not predictable.”

They’re right. Braxton Berkshire has had many appearances in public, and not once did a sign of him being ill has been caught. I could be wrong about him having an illness because his family had a long history of them, and maybe he is the lucky one that didn’t spark any hereditary illness out of dormancy.

I would never jinx an illness on anyone. I don’t know Braxton personally, and given his public image, he is well-loved by everyone, and people believe his side of the story for the crime.

“He said his car was stolen.” The scrolling of the mouse drags into my ears, blocking out the bickering of the two women in the lab with me.

Anyone who can steal a Berkshire’s car with a driver and two bodyguards with him at all times is not humanly possible. Unless it is a team of professionals that knows the secret behind actively doing crime and making their victims lose their memories of how their car got stolen, then it’s not probable.

The media had gotten a hand on the statement about his carjacking experience, and everyone in the car claimed that they don’t remember anything. They won’t let go of the fact that there were at least two carjackers.

It’s so obvious that it’s a false statement, but the police had no other corroborating evidence to throw that statement away from a victim of a carjacking.

Just moments after the media start finding flaws in Braxton’s stories, he came out with a tear-jerking recount of the event that caused him to have post-traumatic stress disorder.

That was the first time I have seen someone lie with so much nonsense, and people choose to believe him. I guess this is what happens when people want to believe that their beloved pianist could do no wrong and the police just want to create trouble for an honest family.

Blind loyalty. The fan base of any celebrity reminds me of a cult; their followers would do anything for them, and it makes them easy to manipulate.

“Ah!” the recent intern’s voice coos. “My prince!”

I get startled when intern Tanya barges into the lab with hearts practically spilling from her eyes as she presses her glossy lips to the flat computer screen. I narrow my eyes and shudders in disgust. Beth Senior snaps her teeth when she sees the equipment that she is in charge of being defiled by a girl with an unhealthy obsession with Braxton.

“Tanya! This is inappropriate!” Beth Senior snaps, anger rising in her voice. “Explain yourself!”

The stupor on Tanya’s face changes from love-struck girl to frightened intern. “I-I’m sorry! I-it’s just that—I… the false arrest made him scared, and I wanted to comfort him!”

Beth Senior is not having it with Tanya and her ridiculous behavior. Beth Junior and I sit back and watch the older woman reprimand the young girl who has her attention split between looking at the screen and paying attention to the lesson Beth Senior is giving her.

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