What Lies Beneath

Twenty-Six

"Iris Lynn, you are under arrest for the murder of Emerald Lynn. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. . ." I tuned out Logan's voice as he chanted the protocol to Iris.

She remained quiet in one spot, unfazed by his words. Her eyes never left the wall and her breathing was steady. If one wasn't paying attention, it was easy to think she was dead. I remembered the look on her face when Christian and Logan arrived with their team. She'd agreed to turn herself in. It didn't take much convincing from them.

"Hey, are you okay?" Christian joined me in Emerald's room. I turned to him, then averted my eyes back on the bed. The prints from my hands were still molded into the blankets. My eyes wouldn't move from them.

"Yeah, I just need a minute." I sighed. There was a sense of relief in the air. It was enough to block out the reek of death. The feeling from earlier outside was a simple warning that I'd only understood the minute I barged into Emerald's room.

"This is where she died," I said, more to myself than him.

"I don't know how you got her to confess but you did good. I'm proud of you, Tyler. Really wish you wouldn't have put yourself in danger again . . . but I'm proud." Christian patted the back of my shoulder. I could feel the smile on his face—obnoxious—but prouder than anything.

I'm proud of you, he'd said. The words were simple, yet they meant so much. Soon after, his statement dawned on me.

"She needed someone to share her pain with. All I did was listen and share mine." Christian stared at me. Shamelessly. He didn't bother trying to hide it. He may not have said anything but he didn't need to. The pitiful look on his face, I was used to by now, spoke for him. It was the same frown that'd knit his eyebrows together, the same wrinkle in his forehead, and the same thin line of his lips that were all signs of the same reaction.

Finally, he opened his mouth, but I said something before he could. "I'll go to therapy. If it's going to help mom have a close chance of winning the custody battle, I'll do it."

Christian's mouth fell agape. The police officers around us continued with their jobs of searching the house, walking around Christian and I, as we stood posted in the middle of Emerald's bedroom. It wasn't everyday my brother was too stunned to speak.

"Honestly, I guess I've always needed a little more help than I give myself credit for. . . You guys better make sure I have a good therapist though," I scoffed under my breath.

"You're serious?" he breathed out.

"I am," I said.

Christian's laughter had my head whipping around so fast, I almost broke my neck. I glared at him, gritting my teeth. "What's so funny? I'm trying to have a moment with you here."

"It's just," he paused, laughing again, "I've always thought of you as a good kid who does stupid shit. But the stupid shit you do makes sense now. You doubt yourself a lot but you've always had a lot more to offer than you think."

The ghost of a smile on his face was still there. Whether he was complimenting me or insulting me, I wasn't sure. But if he was smiling and going along with it, then so was I.

"What's going to happen to Emerald and Iris' therapist?"

"I can't promise anything right now, but if push comes to shove, their therapist could be held liable for negligence. We'll see how far the investigation goes," Christian admitted.

I nodded. "Is it okay if I head over to the library? I need to talk to Mrs. Carol."

"Be back at a decent hour or I'll come looking for you," he said and I knew he wasn't joking.