Lost Boy - Ker Dukey Page 0,62

could he sleep with her?

“It was a mistake.” He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck, red blotches coloring his cheeks.

“Charlotte, Stephan?” I hear the disgust in my own voice. She’s my best friend. What they did was thoughtless, a complete disregard of my feelings.

“It was a mistake,” he reiterates.

“I can’t deal with this now.” I close my eyes, my thoughts muddled. “Just go, Stephan.”

“Liz.” I sense his movement toward me, but he must think better of it.

“Just go,” I bark, the strain hurting my throat.

“I’ll be outside. I’m not letting her come between us over something that didn’t fucking matter,” he rages, kicking a chair across the room and storming out.

“Were you and him…?” Jack asks, a mirage of emotions dancing in his eyes.

“No, we’re friends—that’s it.”

“There was nobody,” Jack says, changing the subject, the pad of his thumb stroking down my cheek.

No. There had to be. “I saw it. I saw him.” I pull the covers from my body, yanking some sticky pads from my chest.

“Whoa, calm down. I know. There was blood on the ground, but there wasn’t a body.”

“He’s toying with me,” I croak, a strangled cry tearing from me.

“Who?”

“Willis. It has to be him, Jack. It has to be.” Tears burn a path down my cheeks. Grasping my face, he kisses away the sorrow and clutches me to his chest. I listen to the pounding of his heart.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

“It can’t be him, Lizzy.”

“Why? Maybe he outwitted you like he has the police all these years.”

“He didn’t.” He pulls me back, his green orbs penetrating mine. “It can’t be him. I refuse to believe it.”

Boom. Boom. Boom.

My head shakes uncontrollably. “That’s not a good enough reason.”

“Can’t you just trust me?”

Can I trust anyone? “We need to tell Hernandez who you are.” I gulp as fear settles in my chest.

“I can’t do that.” He backs away like my words burn him.

“Jack.”

“No!” he snaps, sitting, his head collapsing into his hands. “They’ll take me away from you again, make me relive things.” He’s back on his feet, grasping me into his arms, his hold so strong, it steals my breath.

“I can’t lose you again.” His voice hitches. “I refuse to ever let you go. Please, Liz.”

“Okay.”

I scrape at the scars on my palm beneath the white sheet as Hernandez pins me with a confused gaze. “He didn’t speak to you?”

“No.” I try not to look at him, afraid he can see all the lies stacking up.

“Did you recognize him?”

“No.” I shake my head and reach for a tissue, wiping my nose. A smudge of blood soaking into the white quickens my breath. I’ve re-opened a scar.

“Sorry, I cut my hands on the ground.” I shrug, more lies coming with ease.

“We have something I didn’t want to tell you until it was proven.” He frowns. The grays through his dark hair are more prominent under this bright light.

“You found Willis?” I swallow, shock stiffening my body.

“A known location. Our officers are there now with Barnett.” He grips the railing at the end of my bed.

“Is Willis there?” my voice breaks off.

“We’ll know more soon. Until then, the store confirmed the clerk is missing.”

“I didn’t imagine it,” I snap. Everyone thinks I’m crazy.

“As soon as I have any information, I’ll let you know.” He nods.

“Thank you.”

Twenty-Seven

Listening to the nurse as she tells me to take it easy for a few days makes me want to laugh. I can’t go one fucking day without a body dropping.

Jack grabs up my stuff and guides me out, insistent on taking care of me. I bite my nails almost down to the quick, then hide them in my sleeves when blood blossoms there, embarrassed for Jack to see how I brutalize myself. Charlotte plays on my mind. Where is she? We need to forgive each other, be more open. “Are you okay?” Jack reaches a hand over to stroke my thigh. Inhaling, I lift my legs to my chest and gaze out of the window into the darkening sky. “I’ll be fine.” Will I?

Pulling up to the apartment building, anger flickers through me. My aunt is sitting on the step outside, a grocery bag at her feet. “Perfect,” I groan, stepping out of the car.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, a nervous flurry in my stomach.

“I’ve been calling. You always send me to voicemail,” she admonishes, her eyes flitting to Jack. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh,” I wave a hand awkwardly at Jack, “my neighbor, Clark.” She wouldn’t understand, yet. This takes

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