Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Ouch.
My jaw tightens at her words, and I struggle to connect her description with the stunning, self-assured man I know now. It’s hard to picture Damien as Michael, the awkward kid, but I nod to show her that I’m paying attention and absorbing what she says. “Are you certain?”
She nods. "Yeah. The second I saw him on TV, I knew he was Michael from the home. Those eyes and that jawline are unforgettable even if he pretends otherwise. I don’t blame him,” she says, laying her palm over his photo. “I hide my past from the people I know too. No one needs to know my mom was a junkie.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” I nod and set that information aside for now. “Does anyone else seem familiar?”
She nods, tucking a thick red lock behind her ear. “Oh, wait, this is Zeke. He was like an amateur photographer back then, always taking candid shots that he’d sell in exchange for chores or keeping my mouth shut about curfew violations.” Her smile is wistful, and I wonder more about her time at Hope House.
“Was he a good guy?”
She nods eagerly. “Yes. He was great and trust me, after a few months in the system you learn to identify them easily.” Her gaze flicks back to the photos and she points out a few other guys, but other than Zeke none of them are victims. Yet. “Sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
I hurry to comfort her. “You’ve been extremely helpful, Miss Kinney, I assure you.”
Her green eyes widen in fear. “Am I safe?”
I can’t deceive her, so I merely shrug. “The only victims so far have been male, so we have no reason to think you are at risk.”
Laurel swallows hard and nods. “Okay, that’s reassuring. Thank you. Is there anything else?”
I shake my head. “Do you recall anything else from your time at Hope House?”
“Not really. There weren’t many girls at the group home, so I mostly kept to myself until the social worker came to tell me that my parents had finally gotten their act together. Again.”
I slide more photos across the table. “Are you familiar with any of these women?”
Her gaze lands on Jane, Sara and a few others but she shakes her head. “I saw them around, but we were all too afraid to really get to know each other.” Laurel points to a girl in the photo. “That girl right there is Jane, Michael, or Damien’s sister. She was very artsy. Liked to do crafts and paint.” Her phone chimes and she leans back with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I need to pick up my twins from daycare.”
I nod my head, jotting down notes from her interview. “Thank you, Miss Kinney. You've been a big help. If you can think of anything else, please give me a call. No matter how small or seemingly insignificant a detail, it might be incredibly helpful.”
She nods and licks her lips. “Wish I had more. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Thank you for coming forward. It’s been really hard to get people to even admit they lived there.”
“It wasn’t exactly the best place to admit you lived in, especially back then. I know they saved me from my parents for a while, but it was a shit hole.”
“Thank you for all your help,” I say and stand to open the door.
Laurel rises, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’ve got to run. They charge me for every minute I’m late. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
Laurel’s not the first person to imply that there was more going on at Hope House than the paperwork shows and I’m not sure what to do with that information. What does it mean?
Systemic neglect and abuse or neglected kids lashing out at the system that didn’t actually look out for them?
I need to uncover the truth. She’s the first one to identify the man in the picture as Damien, and I wonder how many others will confirm it.
Regardless of where it takes me.
CHAPTER THREE
Damien
Lately, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own chaos that I’ve forgotten to properly acknowledge my sister—and my technology—both of whom deserve a little more attention.
I stroll into Serenity House with a smile on my face, looking like a loving brother without a care in the world and honestly, I have very few. Frankie is in a vulnerable state, exactly where I want her after the fire that destroyed her home, and my technology is working better than expected.
What more could a man ask for?
Oh, I know. Revenge. Pay back. Justice.
I stop in the doorway of Olivia’s room to see that the doctor was right. She’s doing much better than the last time I saw her. My sister is sitting upright in her wheelchair, smiling as she gazes at the ocean in the distance. “Olivia, hey.”