Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“We’re not his puppets.” Roan’s speech was slowing. His eyes closed and looked fit to stay that way. “He doesn’t tell us how to handle our business. And damn sure he doesn’t get to install his pet cop in Sheriff Sharpe’s place and think we’ll let him stay there long enough for his ass to warm the seat. After what he did to you and your sister... he’s gone, Ivy,” Roan said, drifting. “They’re all gone.”
“If we move against Davidson, they’ll kill Sheriff Sharpe.” I inclined my head. “More reason to do it.”
Roan chuckled under his breath. “Oh yeah. You’re still... you.”
Just like that, he was out. I let him be—content to stroke his cheek while he slept. Cairo may have given up on me. Legend may close off his feelings for me like he closed his true self to the world. But my Roan was so unapologetically himself, he was drawn to the same. This is me in my screwed-up, damaged glory, and he loved it.
Seemed like minutes later, Paris, Legend, and Josephine strolled in with gifts for Roan and a turkey panini for me. I took it and Legend’s hand, tugging him out into the hall.
“We need to talk,” I said before he pulled away. “We just had visitors...”
JACQUES
I stood in Henry Gold’s office, cataloging everything from the worn carpets to the man. He scrubbed his haggard face, sitting down hard in his desk chair.
“This is a lot to take in.”
“You knew, did you not? That’s what you called to tell her.”
“I called to tell Rainey that there’s no trace of her sister. No credit card usage, leases, accounts in her name. Anything. I had to tell a young woman who lost her grandmother and was under siege by a psychopath, that her sister was missing and she should assume the worst. I never thought...”
He trailed off, and I picked up the thread. “That the real Rainey de Souza was murdered by said psychopath. Ivy had a mental breakdown and began believing she was, in fact, her younger sister.”
“Yes,” he rasped. “I don’t think anyone could’ve made that leap. But how?” Gold reached into his desk drawer and came away with a bottle of whiskey and a glass. “How could she just become her sister and no one know?”
“The sisters were homeschooled on a farm until college. Ivy enrolled in Bedlam University and did two years. When she lost her grandmother, she dropped out to take care of the farm and her sister. She also focused all her time on finding out the truth of what happened to Abigail de Souza. When she became Rainey and re-enrolled at Bedlam—”
“Everyone who knew Ivy de Souza had already graduated,” he finished. “Fuck’s sake. All that time she needed help, and no one knew. She’s been suffering alone for years. That poor girl.”
My jaw clenched. Yes, by every logical way you looked at the situation, Ivy wasn’t at fault. She was young, alone, manipulated, betrayed, and the loss of her only family sent her over the edge. It wasn’t rational for us to blame her. To look at her and feel like she stole something from us.
“Sure, but everything doesn’t have to be logical, does it?”
Said to me by the woman I thought she was, and only at that moment did I accept it as the truest thing she ever said. Nothing about my anger, betrayal, or grief was logical. The Rainey I knew never existed, and the woman I did was the victim of tragedy—not its architect.
These feelings should not exist, and moreover, they shouldn’t be taken out on her but...
“I find myself growing attached to you.”
“I would not appreciate it if you left,” I said. “Don’t.”
“I won’t, Jacques.” She rested in the crook of my neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I asked her not to leave, and she did anyway.
“Mr. Stone?”
Raising my head, I withdrew from the memory of her on my lap. Under my claim. “It’s quite unfortunate,” I said simply, “but my focus is on what we can do now. Ivy told me you hired someone to track the IP address of Dante’s website. What did they turn up?”
“Right, of course. She sent me a report.” Setting down his drink, Gold booted his computer. I waited with patience I didn’t feel. “Here it is. All right, she was able to track the computer to—”
I bolted upright.
“—132 Chestnut Grove. I’ll look up the location—”
“There’s no need,” I said, sinking back. “132 Chestnut Grove is Bedlam University. Was she able to pinpoint where on campus, at least? A dorm building? A frat house?”
Gold typed something in and then turned the screen to me. Squinting at the map, I made out a building I knew well.
“The computer lab.”
He sighed. “I apologize. This doesn’t help you.”
“No need for apology. Confirmation of a theory is useful in and of itself. We rationalized that the person was nearby and likely a student. You cannot get into the computer lab without a student pass, so now we know. We can exclude the townspeople and focus our search on the university.”