Page 79 of Claiming Pretty

“That crest in particular…” I trailed off, tilting my head. “It seems familiar. What does it mean?”

His hand darted out, as if out of instinct, to rotate the penholder so the crest faced away from me.

“This old thing?” He chuckled, his laugh sounding hollow. “I can’t quite recall where I got it. Perhaps it was a gift.”

A prickle of satisfaction coursed through me, though I kept my expression amused.

“There seems to be some holes in your memory, Dean,” I said, my voice carrying an edge of mock sympathy. I leaned back in my chair.

“Perhaps Dr. Vale could prescribe you something to help with that. Oh, no, wait—” I paused, feigning sadness. “He was tragically killed, wasn’t he? In that mysterious fire at the end of last term.”

I knew from Ciaran that the Sochai had burned down Dr. Vale’s house with his body in it to cover up the condemning evidence in Dr. Vale’s basement.

I turned my attention to the commissioner, pretending casual curiosity but letting an edge of contempt enter my voice. “Do you have any leads onthatcase, perhaps?”

The tension in the room shifted, thickened. The chief’s jaw tightened as his eyes bored into mine.

“Ms. McKinsey,” Commissioner O’Neill said, his voice clipped, “I cannot comment on an ongoing investigation.”

I leaned back slightly in my chair, letting a small, innocent smile play on my lips.

“Of course,” I said, my tone light but my gaze unwavering. “It must be difficult, juggling so many open cases. Liath’s disappearance, Cormac’s, poor Dr. Vale…”

I let the names hang in the air like a challenge. “All happening so close together. Goodness, Commissioner, you must have your work cut out for you. I wouldn’t dream of keeping you.”

I stood, gathering my bag, and glanced toward the door. “If there’s no more questions…?”

I moved toward the door, to the exit, to freedom.

“Ms. McKinsey,” O’Neill called, his voice low, almost conversational, but the words carried a weight that stopped me in my tracks. “Don’t leave town… again.”

I looked back, keeping my expression calm and neutral, though my heart thudded painfully in my chest.

The dean and O’Neill exchanged a glance—one too quick for most to notice, but I caught it. They were playing their own game, and I’d just barely escaped.

Outside the office, I barely had a moment to exhale before a hand clamped down on my arm.

I jerked away instinctively, only to find myself face-to-face with Cormac Foley Senior.

AVA

“Ava,” Cormac’s father said, his grip still too firm to be polite, his touch making my skin crawl. “How lovely to see you again.”

Cormac Senior was a sharper, older version of his terrible son.

His sandy hair had silvered at the temples but remained impeccably styled, every strand in place. His tailored navy suit hung perfectly on his tall, lean frame, paired with a pristine white pocket square—pressed and polished to perfection.

There was a quiet arrogance in the set of his jaw, but his eyes burned with something else entirely—anger, hatred, a promise of vengeance.

If he was part of the Sochai, too, then he knew I was involved in his son’s—his only heir—death.

“Mr. Foley,” I said, tugging my arm free as subtly as I could. “I’m so very sorry to hear about Cormac’s… disappearance. I hope the police find him soon. If there’s anything I can do…”

“Your concern is… touching, Ava,” he said, his outwardly polite tone failing to mask the venom bubbling just beneath the surface. “Considering you were the last person to see him alive.”

I didn’t bother to mask my defiance. I met his stare head-on, my heart pounding but my expression unwavering.

“Why, Mr. Foley, don’t talk like that,” I said, my voice sweet but laced with barbs. “It’s like you already know he’s dead. And how could you know… right?”

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