[CENTER][h1]Bailey[/h1]
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[justify][indent][indent]She didn't bother to change from her ripped jeans and black, ruffled T-shirt as she exited her large house. It was quite chilly outside, though, and goosebumps began to appear upon her skin. Bailey let out a long breath, watching as it turned into a smoky looking vapor and disappeared into the night. George, the butler, stood waiting for her alongside the sleek, black limo. He opened the door and she climbed in without a word. No clear weapon lay on her body as she knew the police would meet her there. But she wore a sharp edged ring on her middle finger- it was very noticeable that danger lay ahead of her.

The drive seemed continuous but she was almost glad for the long wait. Her mother had the comfort of her other siblings and to be honest, she wanted no part in this sudden family reunion. As George pulled to a stop beside the large Blackstone Manor, she felt nothing. No fear, no pain, no sympathy. Her father could have lived a low profile along with his wife and children, but he instead chose to flaunt this wealth. It was his own fault he was dead. Again, someone must have killed him. And they must have enjoyed doing it. She could almost feel the pleasure thinking about his murder.

Although she did love her father, Bailey was calmed by the fact that he was dead. She was shaken from her thoughts as George opened the door. She gave him a polite nod before narrowing her deep green eyes once again, her boots clomping against the asphalt. 

Her phone buzzed- the same buzzing she had woken up to not so long ago- but it was only her mother. [i]“House is cordoned off. I’m in the Pool House.”[/i] She was close enough now that she could see Edward and Mariana making their way towards the pool house, and she began walking faster to catch up with them. Only when she was a few leg-lengths behind did she open her mouth to speak.

[b][color=004b80]"Hey."[/color][/b] Her words were small, but firm. [color=004b80][b]"You got the messages."[/b][/color] It wasn't a question, it was a fact. All the Blackstones got messages. She tried to smile but she couldn't turn off her frown. It wouldn't be hard to read what she was thinking: [i]I know it was you. Or you.[/i] She felt like she was going insane. She couldn't feel grief, only pure anger at her siblings and her father. She didn't even know what to think about her mother, though she could assume that her mother wasn't the killer. 

Everything could have been okay if one of the Blackstone children hadn't been so stupid, but everything. was. not. okay. If only money wasn't worth anything- it was a childish hope and dream of hers that would never come true in a million years.

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