Page 82 of Holding On

I close my eyes and brace myself. “Rip the band-aid off, please. Just tell me. What’s happened?”

“Right. I spoke to the detectives investigating your mother’s case this morning and you need to be aware there has been a significant update. The toxicology report has come back with some startling discoveries. Your mother didn’t have a history of diabetes, correct?”

“No, not to my knowledge. Why?”

“I didn’t think so, but I had to ask. The toxicology report found that she had high levels of insulin in her system at the time of her death, which is odd in itself. But if her body had made that insulin naturally in her pancreas, she also would’ve produced something called C-peptide along with it. However, the blood results did not show a presence of C-peptide, which means the insulin in her body was externally administered.”

“Daphne, I have to be honest, I’m not following what you’re telling me here.” I open my eyes as I place an elbow on the table and lean my head in my hand.

So, my mom did have diabetes? She was on insulin? I shake my head at the concept of my mother being able to take care of herself well enough to manage diabetes. It would have been a death sentence to her. She would’ve failed marvelously at that, without a doubt.

“It’s possible the injection site bruise on the back of her neck that they found during the autopsy was the location where your mother was injected with insulin, dear. The medical examiner did not find any other injection sites on her body, and the odds of your mother injecting herself on the back of her neck, especially with what her blood alcohol level came back at, is highly unlikely.”

“How high was it?” In Tennessee, I know the limit for driving under the influence is point zero eight, but I doubt my mother’s blood was that sober in the last decade of her life—if not longer.

“Approximately point three percent, which is close to alcohol poisoning, but the report said it wasn’t a surprising level for someone with your mother’s history of drinking and the fact that her death was late in the evening, assuming she likely was drinking throughout the day.”

“So, she was three sheets to the wind and couldn’t have given herself a shot of insulin to the back of her neck of all places, but I still don’t understand why the insulin was in her system in the first place then.”

“The detectives contacted me to let me know about the toxicology report findings. They also wanted me to notify you and Wells that your mother’s death is no longer being investigated as an unattended death.”

“What are they investigating it as then?” I almost whisper.

“The toxicology reports led the medical examiner to file the cause of death as an intentional insulin overdose. I’m sorry, Tinsley, but the evidence has led the authorities to believe that your mother’s death was homicide.” Daphne says some other things about procedures or next steps, I’m not exactly sure, it’s like I’ve gone under water.

Someone murdered my mother?

Who would do that—and why?

The ding of the residential elevator door snaps me out of it. I didn’t get a request from the front desk security, and Allie prefers to use the stairs that connect this floor with the lofts below us, so it would be amazing if it’s somehow Jack coming home early.

It would be perfect timing because I really need him right now.

“Thank you for letting me know, Daphne. I’ll be in touch,” I tell her as I push back from the table and walk around the kitchen counters to look down the foyer that leads to the residential elevator. And I freeze. I’m not even sure I can take a breath.

I can’t move.

I can’t talk.

I can’t do anything but stare at the three individuals stepping out of the elevators and into the penthouse—my sanctuary, my home.

“Of course, dear. Take care and let me know if you need anything. We’ll talk soon.” Daphne disconnects and I really wish I could’ve asked her for help or made a noise to let her know that I’m in trouble.

Because I am in serious trouble and desperately need help right now.

CHAPTER FORTY

At five-eight, I have at least three inches on Kane Daughtry and that’s barefoot, which is only happening for the first time right now. The man cares a lot of about his appearance and is trying—really hard—to be handsome, but money and needles only do so much. From a distance, if someone squinted, he could potentially be considered handsome, but up close, it falls flat. I saw a photo of what Kane looked like when he was younger, and he was average looking but it was real. Now, his face is as fake as his moral compass. His facial muscles don’t move like they should, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and his aura is just … off.

It’s clear he goes to the gym, but I’m convinced he only works out his arms and shoulders. His legs look as though he’s never heard of a leg day, resulting in exceptionally skinny legs he squeezes into pants that are far too tight.

His cherub cheeks and prominent eyes lack any of the charm that some boyish faces have and instead look out of place. Kane’s white veneers always make me think of that episode of Friends when Ross left the whitening product on too long, and his teeth were way too white. It’s quite the contrast with his stark over-gelled onyx hair that I swear would audibly crunch if you pressed a hand against it, if you could get it to move at all. But that would require getting close to the man, and I avoid that scenario at all costs. He wears three times whatever the standard amount of cologne is for a man, and it’s nauseating.

In his left hand is a switchblade that he casually opens and closes with that creepy ass grin on his face.

He’s a walking host of bad cliches, but it really is the general effect of the man.

Kane’s dark brown eyes are almost black and they never stay still, always shifting around the room, calculating who he should talk to, who he should be seen with, who could help him the most, what camera could take his photo and how to stand for the best angle. When he first joined Lux, Wells was the one that initially introduced me to him at a company event, toting the technological advances Lux was going to be able to accomplish with Kane on the team. It was all bullshit though, just like everything about Kane. I always wondered if that’s why his eyes were so dark—because he’s always just so full of shit. I immediately disliked the man from the moment I met him.