Lost Boy - Ker Dukey Page 0,69

don’t? You never asked. You never wanted to know. You didn’t want the truth. Why didn’t my aunt tell me?

“It didn’t take much to find out, flash of fake credentials about an article I was writing had everyone singing. People won’t admit it, but they like that Willis made their crappy town famous.” He picks up a file and waves it in my face. “A lot of files are open to the public. It just took looking in the right places. By the look of her autopsy, your Grandmother was tortured. It’s no doubt how Willis got your address. It’s why your aunt lives like a frightened little mouse. She’s terrified he’ll come back here and cut her up next. You weren’t the collateral damage—they were.” There’s a smug arrogance about him I’ve never seen before. How can he be so different? Was it all an act?

“She’ll be relieved then, when she learns he’s never coming back. He's dead. Jack killed him,” I remind him.

Blanching, he shakes his head. “What did you say?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? I thought you knew everything,” I sneer, swiping at the blood on my lips. I feel ill learning I had a grandmother Willis also claimed the life of. My poor aunt, raising me after everything that was taken from her because of me…

Grabbing me by the neck of my shirt, he slams me into the wall once more. “Who killed him?”

“Jack killed him,” I groan, my head spinning.

“That’s why he hasn’t come for us,” he whispers, the news chinking a piece from his armor. “Because Jack fucking killed him?”

“Willis didn’t even know we existed,” I mock, dropping my head, exhaustion depleting me of strength.

“What do you think all of this was for?” he bellows. “To show him we do!”

I’d rather die than ever let that man think of me as his child. Jack…poor Jack. Everything he thought to be true isn’t. It never was. His world has been altered forever by me.

A cell ringing fills the room. “Fuck,” Stephan growls. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he sneers at the name flashing up. Charlotte.

“You ruined my plans tonight,” he informs me, muting the call.

I snigger, a deranged laugh. I’m descending into madness. “Did you have a date?”

“With Charlotte actually,” he taunts.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” I sneer, all humor fleeing.

“Charlotte’s a whore. You’re better than her, Lizzy. Will be better without her.” He goes to his dresser and pulls out a drawer, looking inside. “As soon as she thought I was interested in you, she was all over me. She needs a man’s attention—daddy issues.” A hook tilts his lips as he winks over at me, completely disconnected from reality. “Am I right?”

I drop my eyes. The color drains from my face as he pulls a blade out from the dresser. “Charlotte is complicated,” I defend.

Jerking his head up and down, he points over to me with the knife. “It helped me. I kinda get these confused feelings around you.”

He doesn’t have feelings. He’s cold. Dead inside. Just like Willis. “Thought it may help me feel close to you in some fucked up way. You know, the whole can’t fuck your sister, so get close to her best friend thing.”

“You’re disgusting.” It’s crazy to antagonize a psycho with a knife, but his words make me feel ill.

“Fair statement. It was a low point, I’ll admit.”

Breathing heavy, I ask, “What do you want from me?”

He bends, holstering the knife to a strap on his leg. “I want you to admit who you really are.”

“And then what?” I demand, forcing myself to fight the dizziness, to remain present.

“The world is our oyster.” He holds out his hands in a dramatic gesture. Did he really think I’d just be like him and want to go around the world murdering innocent people in Willis’s name?

“The police are looking for you,” I remind him.

Tutting and wagging his finger, he asks, “Are they? I think they don’t have a clue who is doing this. Maybe a tip about who your new neighbor really is will help clear that up for them.”

My back straightens, anger boiling. “No,” I bark.

“Why?” He leans forward, an amused glint in his eyes. “It’s perfect. He shows up after being kidnapped by a serial killer over a decade ago right when the killings began. It’s kismet.”

I’d never let Jack go down for this. I’ve failed him so many times—never again. Desolation cloaks me in a mist of regret. How could I think he was capable of hurting