Genevieve
"YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING ME, PRINCESS."
Wincing, I sigh.
Ford's ire's anticipated, sure, but the sheer malice of which he hisses those words is staggering. He's gazing at me so intensely, his eyes narrowed until his pupils appear like slits. Ford has no right to be so enraged except for the fact that it might aid his investigation to whoever had sent the photo of us and the identity of Jean Sommers.
"What the fuck do you mean, you had a secret fling with Angus Mitchell?"
"It only lasted a couple of months. It was barely anything. He ended up breaking the fling off with me and then dated some girl called Julia Joseph." I pause as the familiar nausea rolls through my body in the mirroring way it did when Julia's death was announced barely a week ago. Her name has been attributed to Red Alert hearsay that they're behind her death, but from my vantage point of having only a marginal overlook into Red Alert, I fail to see why they would favour her dead than alive, and especially as I overheard the discussion in Huntington's Street. "The girl who died. She—"
"She had two bullet wounds," Ford supplies easily, nodding. "One in her neck—the cause of death—and another in her thigh." He sighs, rubbing his face with his hands and tousling his hair in sheer frustration. I swear he even growls under his breath, but before I can query anything, Ford casts me a fleeting sideways glance and adds, "How much do you know about that story?"
"Only what you've just said. Why? Is there more to know?"
He maintains the silence between us before ultimately sighing. "I'm going to tell you more information about Julia Joseph, but only because I believe you can provide more information regarding Angus." He shakes his head incredulously. "Still can't fucking believe you had a secret fling with him. What the fuck were you thinking?"
"Anyway—" I mutter, eager to segue into a different path of conversation and away from his disinclination for my sex scandals, considering I'm acutely aware of his hatred for the guy and his friends.
"The gun's registered to William from our group. He's the creepy one. The cops ultimately decided upon closing her case as unsolved for now, because they were desperate to pin it on our group and deem it a Red Alert death, but considering it isn't, they have no legs to stand on with that matter, despite the gun's license being held by William. They have no idea who actually killed Julia, because there's no CCTV footage to follow her movements prior to her death and no one had seen her for up to four hours before either. There's no fucking trail at all. If they had been able to hold us accountable for her death, it wouldn't have been publicised, but because they couldn't, they had to slowly leak out the details, though I noticed that it didn't catch much attention."
I've been noting Ford's progress in terms of speaking more to me. At first, he's the silent brooding type, but now he's beginning to open up more. Why, I'm uncertain, but I prefer it. He usually exhibits his level of rage through his tone and with the increased frequency of speaking to me, I have a better chance of determining the level and how to act with it. Right now, he seems mildly annoyed, but it's controllable, at least, even if it is directed at me.
"After I found out you're all Red Alert," I confess quietly, "I did wonder if any of you had any involvement in her death."
"We didn't. We just know that it was Angus and his three friends that killed her, but as we can't prove it, the case remains closed and unsolved." He drapes his arm atop the sofa again, his fingers mere inches away from my body and turns to me. "Does Harris know of your fling?"
"No. He's never actually queried anything from my past."
Ford scoffs knowingly and my eyes narrow. "That figures."
