Chapter 13

The next day,I’m between classes when I get a call from an unknown number, but the area code is Malibu, so I decide to answer.

“My name is Dave Harrison, and I’m with Harrison and Grubbs Investigation. Is this Ms. Anderson?”

I perk up. “Oh, yes! Thank you for calling.”

For the next forty-five minutes, I lay everything out, from what happened to me last year, to Bree and me arriving on campus, to Bree being killed. And as we’re talking, I find a bench and pull out my laptop, emailing him copies of all the evidence I have. Thankfully, I’d taken photos and notes of everything before handing it all over to the police.

We agree on a price that seems reasonable, and he emails me his retainer agreement. I e-sign the document without even perusing the lengthy legal language and immediately email it back to him. But right before we hang up, I add one last thing, “Hey, um, can you also look into the Rush family for me?”

Silence falls over the phone, until finally, he says, “The Rush family is pretty influential around here. You sure you want to do that?”

The question should probably give me pause, but I’m in too deep at this point. “Yeah, I’m sure. Just anything you can find about the eldest son. He’s in jail, but I’m not sure where, or why, really.”

“You got it,” he says with a gravelly voice. “Expect to hear from me within the next couple of weeks.”

When we hang up, I push out a breath. I’m relieved, honestly. I finally have help. It may drain my entire bank account, but if Dave can get me closer to finding Bree’s killer, then it’ll be well worth it.

A couple of hours later, I book it back to Rush House, because a hired car is arriving any minute to take me to the doctor’s office. I get there just as the car is pulling up to the curb, the driver getting out to open my door for me.

The doctor’s office isn’t too far away, thankfully, and when I arrive, I’m immediately whisked into an exam room. I get the feeling Roman and his family receive VIP treatment everywhere, which must include the doctor’s office. Usually, I’m in the waiting room for at least thirty minutes before being taken back to an exam room.

A nurse gets my weight and blood pressure, runs down the usual list of questions, and then ushers me into an exam room, instructing me to undress.

“There’s a gown on the exam table,” she says with a smile. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

I strip down quickly and immediately slip into the pink cotton gown. I’m never quite sure how these things are supposed to be tied. For some reason, there are always way too many ties, so I just find two and knot them together loosely. Just as I’m tucking my panties under my folded jeans, I hear my file being removed from the pocket on the door, and there’s a knock.

“Come in,” I say, shivering. Why is it so cold in here?

The door opens, and a middle-aged woman in a lab coat walks through the door. She has a clipboard in her hand. “Ms…” She glances down at my very thin file. “...Anderson.” She glances up with a smile and holds her hand out. “I’m Dr. Kimball. Nice to meet you.”

I return her smile. For some reason, I’m a little nervous, which is ridiculous. I’ve been to the doctor’s a thousand times before. And this visit is just routine. Nothing to stress about, right?

She walks over to the sink and washes her hands, then dries them off. “Okay, so I hear you’d like to be put on birth control.” She picks my file up again. “But…you’re not sure when you’re last period was.”

Who ever remembers that kind of thing? All I know is that I’ve been with Roman since August—that’s when school started—and I haven’t had my period since being with him.

“It’s been a few weeks, maybe five or six,” I say, but when I notice her eyebrows shoot up in alarm, I rush to add, “But I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. My best friend was killed.”

Murdered. Snatched away from me. Her life viciously stolen.

I swallow hard, blinking back the tears.

Dr. Kimball’s eyes fill with sympathy as she sits down on her rolling stool, tugging a latex glove over each hand. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Stress can definitely affect your period.” She rolls up to the exam table. “Let’s take a quick look, and then we can talk about your birth control options.”

The exam is relatively quick. I’ve had a couple of pelvic exams at this point, so I know what to expect. But as Dr. Kimball rolls back and removes her gloves, throwing them in the trash, her brows are pinched, and that causes my heart rate to kick up a few thousand notches.

“Everything okay?” I ask, sitting up.

“Are you having any symptoms at all?” she asks casually.

Uh. “Symptoms of what?”

“Breast tenderness, nausea, fatigue?”

Oh, Jezus.Those are all the early symptoms of pregnancy. Did she see something internally that makes her think I’m pregnant? Please, God, no. “I’ve been feeling fine. Why?”

“Let’s do a quick urine test, and then we can go from there.”

“A urine test,” I repeat. “Do you think I’m pregnant?” I can barely get that last word past my tight throat.

She stands up, shaking her head in a placating way. Like an adult trying to comfort a child. “It’s routine to do a urine test to check for pregnancy before prescribing birth control.” She grabs a plastic urine cup from the cupboard above the sink and hands it to me. “Fill this up, if you can, then meet me back here. The bathroom is down the hall to the right.”

I hadn’t prepared to pee on command, but I manage to get about half a cup’s worth into that tiny-ass cup. I only see after the fact that I was supposed to write my name in it with the marker they provided in the bathroom, so I do that, then leave it on the specimen shelf.

I head back to the exam room, and it’s only a matter of minutes before Dr. Kimball comes back in. My heart is beating so fast, I feel dizzy. I’m sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, trying desperately to read the doctor’s expression. She looks neutral, but maybe slightly concerned?

“Okay, we ran the pregnancy test, and it was inconclusive, so we’re going to need to do a blood test.”

Inconclusive.Okay, nowI do feel nauseous.

“W-what does that mean? Does that mean I’m pregnant?”

She shakes her head. “Nope, it just means we can’t be sure either way. But with a blood test, we can be sure.”

“Okay. How long does that take?”

“Usually, we can have the results back in a couple of hours, but our pathologist is on vacation, so we’ll have to send it out to the lab. It’ll take a couple of days.”

A couple of days? Fuck. Me. She might as well waterboard me for two days straight. It’d be less tortuous than waiting to see if my entire world is about to be turned upside down.

She must see the panic on my face because she reaches over and places a hand on my knee. “No need to worry. This is all very routine. These urine tests aren’t always accurate and we just want to be sure before we put you on any birth control.”

I nod numbly. “Okay.”

“My physician assistant will come in and take your blood, then we’ll schedule another appointment for a couple of days from now, and go over the results. Then we’ll go from there.”

I just nod again, already making plans in my head to buy every possible brand of pregnancy test on my way home. “Thanks.”

The blood draw is pretty quick and easy, and within twenty minutes, I’m headed back down to the curb, where the driver is waiting. I’m still in a bit of a haze when I slip into the back seat. I mean, I don’t know anything yet, so there’s no real reason to freak out, but that doctor saw something during my internal exam, and then to have an inconclusive urine test…What are the chances that those two things don’t add up to something?

I ask the driver to stop at the pharmacy on the way home, which he does without question. I buy about fifty dollars worth of tests, every brand they have, and thankfully, I have enough money in my account to do that. With Roman paying for everything lately, I haven’t needed to dip into any of my own money.

When I get home, I thank the driver, then head straight up to Roman’s room with my plastic bag full of tests. Then it occurs to me—what if he’s home? How am I going to explain all of these pregnancy tests? Shit. I’m not ready to confront this myself, let alone deal with Roman’s reaction.

And maybe it’s nothing, right? Just a false alarm. Why worry him until I’m sure?

Spinning on my heel, I head back downstairs and make a beeline for the front door, before anyone can stop me. Thankfully, no one does, and I head out the door, straight for Wyn’s place. On my way, I text her frantically.

Where are you? Need to talk ASAP.

Her reply comes a couple of minutes later.

I’m in class until five. What’s up?

Five?Damn.

Meet me at your place when you’re done with class.

Thankfully, her sorority house is close by, and no one even questions why I’m there. Her room is locked, though, so I just settle in on the beat-up couch in the living room. Despite fifteen girls living here, the house is quiet, because everyone is either working or in class.

I must drift asleep at some point because a second later, I’m being shaken awake. “Lux, wake up.”

I blink open my eyes and sit up a little straighter on the couch. Wyn takes a step back and studies me. “Are you okay?”

I stretch and grab my phone. I have several texts from Roman and five missed calls. All the texts are asking me how the doctor’s appointment went, and later, when I’ll be home.

Tossing my phone aside, I glance at Wyn as she sits on the couch next to me. “I went to the doctor today to get on birth control, and she gave me a pregnancy test that came back inconclusive,” I say all together in a rush.

Wyn’s face shifts from concern to abject horror in the span of a millisecond. “Inconclusive? What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know. But she took my blood, and told me we wouldn’t have the results back for—get this—a couple of days.”

“Oh, my God. What are you going to do?” she asks, not even attempting to hide her alarm.

I grab my bag of tests and hold them up. “I thought I could pee on a few more sticks…”