Page 112 of Finding Kyler
I lace my hand in Kalvin’s, squeezing tight. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as his eyes skitter wildly. Kyler steps right in the policeman’s path. “You are not taking my brother.”
Alex places her cell against her chest, shaking her head at Ky. “Move aside, Kyler. I’ll sort this, but for now, Kalvin has to go with them.”
“What?” Kal gulps. “Why?”
Ky reluctantly steps aside as the officer takes Kalvin’s wrists and cuffs them behind his back. Kal pulls his mouth into a grim line and stares straight ahead, but I can tell he’s freaking out
“Kalvin Edward Kennedy”—the officer begins reading him his rights—“You are under arrest for the sexual assault and rape of Ms. Lana May Taylor.”
Chapter Forty
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ky yells at the officer. “What kind of a sick joke is this? Kalvin didn’t rape Lana. Get r—”
“Kyler!” Alex cries. “Stop talking. Right now.”
The officer starts leading Kalvin away, and we all follow suit. At the door, Alex turns to address us. “Our attorney will deal with this, and I’ve notified your father; he’s on his way. Do not do anything to make this situation worse for your brother. We will sort this out. Wait here until I return.” She grabs her keys and flies out the door after her son.
Kalvin is being lowered into the back of the police cruiser, and I feel so helpless just standing there doing nothing. Worried blue eyes lift to mine, and I try to send him a reassuring look. This is one occasion where money most definitely helps. I’m sure Alex and James will hire the best attorney and have him home before long.
The car door is closed and we watch silently as Kalvin is driven away.
Ky ushers us all inside and closes the door.
“That bitch!” Kent fumes. “I say we storm over there right now and find out what the lying little slut is up to.” His fists clench into balls of fury at his side.
“No.” Ky’s instruction is firm and final. “You heard Mom. We sit tight. This isn’t some shoplifting spree. This is a serious accusation. I doubt Dad will be able to pay the cops off in the same way. No one is to do anything. Understood?”
Kent lets loose a colorful volley of curses before reluctantly acquiescing. He skulks back to his room while Keanu and Keaton head into the kitchen.
I make for my room with Ky’s quiet footsteps following me. “I’m going to speak to her,” I tell him the minute he closes my bedroom door.
“I know, and it has to be us. I don’t want the triplets getting mixed up in this. Especially Kent. Not with his track record. Come on.” He pushes my window open and jumps out before turning to help me down.
Keeping to the right-hand side of the garden, we take the long route to the forest to avoid triggering the spotlight. Our footsteps crunch on the uneven path as we creep toward Lana’s bungalow. The property is lit up like the Fourth of July, and we hang back, scouting the scene.
Lana’s parents, Greta and John, are diligently loading cases into a small red Honda. Ky and I trade wary looks. I nudge his shoulder and point around the other side of the bungalow. He motions for me to lead the way, and I tiptoe slowly and carefully through the trees around the other side of the bungalow, coming up at the rear. There’s a dim glow coming from Lana’s bedroom. The curtains are open offering unrestricted access to the sobbing girl inside.
An ache pierces my chest cavity.
Ky tugs my sleeve, holding me back. “I’ll stay here,” he whispers, cowering around the corner of the bungalow. “See if she’ll talk to you.”
I nod and approach the window cautiously, tapping lightly on the glass. Lana jumps ten feet in the air, emitting a tiny shriek. Whipping her head around, she spots me and stills. “Lana, honey, are you okay?” Greta calls out, and I duck my head just in time.
“I’m okay,” she says in a muffled voice.
“He’s going to pay for this, sweetheart. I promise you.”
“But your job…” she sniffles.
“A job is a job. It’s not as important as you. We never should’ve stayed here this long, not after all those rumors started circulating. And I’ve known those boys were running amok for some time. Those people have a lot to answer for. I’m so sorry, honey. We’ve failed you.”
Lana hiccups. “It’s not your fault.”
There’s a minute of silence before Greta speaks again, this time in a softer cadence. “Finish packing. We’re leaving shortly.”
When thetappity-tapof footsteps fades, I lift my head, jumping a little when I see Lana with her face pressed firmly to the window above me. She flips the lock and pushes it open. “You shouldn’t be here.” Her lip wobbles.
The utter devastation on her face almost floors me. “Are you okay?”
