Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

ROMAN

I watched from a distance as two police officers guided Aurora into the back of their car. I waited until they had driven a distance down the street before I pulled away from the curb. There was no need to rush, I knew where they were taking her.

Aurora was sitting in an interview room when I arrived. She looked so small and vulnerable as she hunched over a paper cup filled with tea, the foil blanket still around her shoulders. The pale skin of her hands had traces of dried blood on them. Her usually expressive bright blue eyes were vacant.

I watched through the two-way mirror as DCI Casen hit record on the recording device placed between them at the end of the rectangular table. "Date is May 14th. Time is," he checked his watch, "three a.m. Interview of Aurora Barlowe commencing. Suspect has been cautioned."

He remained standing as he placed his palms on the table and leaned over her. "Explain to me what happened tonight."

Aurora sniffed then wiped under her nose with a crumpled tissue. "A loud noise woke me. I wasn't sure what was going on, so I went downstairs to investigate and that is… that is… when I… when I found the… the… bod—when I found them."

DCI Casen raised an eyebrow. "You decided to investigate instead of walking down the hallway to get your stepfather? Isn't that a bit odd?"

She shrugged. "He was often drunk in the evenings so I assumed he and my mother would be passed out in their beds. So yes, I went to investigate the noise."

"So how can you explain the gunshot residue on your hands?"

"I fired a gun earlier but not at them. I swear I didn't kill them."

"Okay, let's for a moment assume I believe you. Where did you fire the gun?"

She bit her lower lip as she looked away. "I'd rather not say."

"Well, Miss Barlowe, you better say, because right now I'm getting ready to book you on suspicion of unlawful murder with regards to the deaths of Alfred and Meredith Robinson."

Aurora rubbed her forehead. "I'm just so confused."

He tossed his mobile on the table between them. "Perhaps you'd like to explain your social media post?"

"I was just venting. I was upset."

"Upset with your parents?"

"Yes."

"Enough to kill them?"

"No!"

DCI Casen slammed his fist on the table. "Stop lying to me. We have the gunshot residue, your social media post clearly showing you hated your parents, and soon I'd guess we're going to have your fingerprints on the gun!"

Aurora burst into tears.

It was time to put a stop to this.

I tapped on the glass. DCI Casen turned his head. He then stopped the recording and left the interview room. I met him in the hallway.

DCI Casen reached out his hand. "Hope you don't think I'm being too hard on the girl."

I shook his hand. "No, John, you're doing just fine, although I think it's time we wrap this up."

He nodded. "You got it, Mr. Winterbourne. The official record will be murder–suicide with Alfred Robinson being the one to pull the trigger."

"You'll hold onto the report for a few weeks and keep Aurora an official suspect?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. Just like we arranged."

"Very good. I'll just take her home now."

As I reached for the doorknob, DCI Casen stopped me. "So, we are square, right, Mr. Winterbourne? I do this and you forget all about that… uh, little misunderstanding."

I smiled. "As long as you hold up your end. I want no mention of Alfred being the killer for at least three weeks. No media leaks."

"You can count on it."

"Then you can consider that small matter forgotten."

DCI Casen's shoulders sagged with relief.

I gestured to the viewing room I had just exited. "No one goes in there. I want no observers."

He saluted. "You got it, sir." He then stood guard to the viewing room as I opened the door to the interview room. "She seems like a nice girl. Can I ask why you're doing all this to her?"

I cast a dismissive glance over my shoulder. "No, you may not."

Aurora's eyes widened as I entered the room. Before I could say a word, she launched herself into my arms. I held her close as she cried. Casting the foil blanket aside, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We're leaving."

She pulled back slightly to stare up at me. "Can we do that? I mean, can I just leave?"

I stroked her hair, pushing one lock behind her ear. "If you are with me, you can."

"They think I killed them."

"I know."

"I swear I didn't do it, Roman."

"I believe you. Let's get you out of here and we'll talk."

Keeping an arm around her waist I escorted her out of the station. No one dared stop us. I opened the passenger door to my car and helped her inside. The moment I got behind the wheel, we headed into the waning darkness of the London streets. We drove in silence for several minutes.

As we left the lights of London behind, Aurora turned to look at me. "Where are we going?"

Keeping my gaze on the road, I responded, "You obviously cannot go to your house. I'm taking you to my home in Richmond-Upon-Thames."

She pulled the sleeve of her hoodie past her left hand and played with the edge. "Can't you just take me to my friend's house?"

"No. It is far too late in the evening to go banging on someone's door."

She nodded, seeming to accept my response.

We continued to drive to the outskirts of South West London.

After some time, she asked, "How did you know where to find me?"

I had, of course, anticipated this question. "Your stepfather was not an honorable man. I fully expected him to flee the country, so I had a guard placed on the house. He informed me of the police activity." The lie slipped easily from my lips.

She sat up straighter and leaned closer. "Did he see what happened? Can he tell the cops I didn't kill my parents?"

I shook my head as I turned down the long drive to my home. "No, he did not."

She slumped against her seat. Again, she played with her sleeve. "I haven't cried," she whispered.

I glanced over at her. "You're in shock."

"I'm a terrible person. I don't think I'm even all that sad."

"From all accounts, they were the horrible people who neglected your well-being."

"Still, she was my mother ! I should be able to cry or feel something ! I want to cry, I just… can't."

We fell back into silence.

Several minutes later, I pulled in front of my home.

She looked out the car window. "Why are we at a church?"

I got out of the car and circled around to the passenger side. I opened her door. "This isn't a church. It's my home."

She raised both her eyebrows as she tilted her head back to take in the gothic structure. "You live in a church?"

I nodded. "A converted one, yes."

Placing a hand on her lower back, I guided her toward the massive oak double doors framed with heavy wrought-iron rivets. I pulled on the thick handle and gestured for her to step inside.

I watched her carefully as she took in the unusual architecture.

I had purchased the property about ten years ago. It amused me to think of all the debauched things I would do on previously sacred ground. Although Aurora would be the first woman I had deemed worthy enough to bring home. All the pews had been removed to create an elegant open space living room with the former stone altar being converted into a bar. I had the choir loft sealed off to create my master bedroom. The rest of the home was an attachment I added while carefully matching the original gothic stone design. If you listened carefully, you could hear the gentle splashing of the Thames, which was located fifty yards to the right of the entrance.

Guiding her with my hand to the staircase that led directly into the master bedroom, I said, "I think a nice hot shower is in order."

She resisted. "Do you have my phone with you? Maybe I could just call my friend Eleanor and see if she answers?"

I frowned. "The answer is no, Aurora. Stop asking. Unless you would prefer me to return you to police custody?"

She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. She gripped my suit jacket sleeve. "No, please. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I'll stay."

I led her up the stairs.

She gasped as we entered the bedroom.

On the high ceiling was the original church Renaissance fresco depicting Samson and Delilah. The walls were blood red and covered in gilt-framed portraits of someone else's ancestors. It had become a passion of mine to collect the ancestral portraits of fallen English aristocrats at art auctions. If I was going to be denied my birthright, I would simply buy the birthright of someone else. A massive four-poster bed with heavily embroidered bed curtains dominated the space. The entire room was modeled after Henry the Eighth's bedroom at Hampton Court Palace. As the Winterbournes had been strong early supporters of the Tudor dynasty and owed their wealth and titles to him, it was another amusing dark irony of mine to use the king as decor inspiration.

I ushered Aurora past the bed and into the newer attachment that contained my dressing suite and bathroom. We crossed the threshold into the bathroom. Here I had opted for gray slate tiles on the walls and floors, highlighted with smooth river rock pulled from the Thames. With the walk-in open rainfall shower, the entire place had the soothing feel of a forest glen.

I opened the door to a small closet and gestured toward the heavy brocade black robes hanging inside. "Here is a robe and over there is the towel warmer with fresh towels. Take your time."

She turned and followed me as far as the door. She surveyed the doorknob. "I don't see a lock."

"There isn't one."

She lowered her eyes, clearly agitated.

I cupped her chin and lifted her face to mine. "I will not allow locks between us, Aurora. Do you understand?"

She hesitated then nodded. "You don't need to always call me Aurora. It's an old-fashioned name. I'd prefer it if you called me Rory actually."

My mouth lifted in the corner. "And I prefer Aurora."