Page 34 of Lethal Truths

A thought pops into my head, and I grip onto it. It might not work. I could get caught. There could be nothing there. But I have to try. For all I’ve done since Prudence appeared in my life, the least I can do is give every ounce of my energy into finding her before The Celestials can hurt her any more than the three of us have.

I’m moving before I can think through the consequences. My feet carry me down the stairs, out the door, and only when I take a deep inhale of the night air do I feel some kind of clarity. I rush to my car out on the street and hop in with nothing but gym shorts and tennis shoes on.

If what Griffin said is true — and I really have no reason to believe my dad isn’t capable of something so gruesome — then I’ve misplaced my trust and loyalty. If my dad could cut down my best friend so easily, and then stand by me at the hospital where Griffin was in critical condition, and not show even the barest hint of sympathy or guilt… Then I’m not so sure I want to follow down that same path. What kind of monster did The Celestials create in him? Or has he always been that way?

I guess I’ll find out once I get to my destination. After all, my father owns a real estate firm and his office is always under lock and key. If I’m going to get any clue as to where she is, it’ll be from that room.

The forty-minute drive to downtown Black Creek goes by in seconds, it seems. You know when you’re driving, but your mind is elsewhere? You blink and suddenly you’re at your destination with little memory of the journey? Yeah, it was like that. Now, as I steel my spine for whatever comes next, I wish the trip had taken hours. Anything to prolong the inevitable fall out I’m about to experience.

The code at the backdoor is my mom’s birthday — it’s the same at our house, too — so I have no trouble getting inside. Is it still considered breaking and entering if I stroll right in without raising the alarm? Not that I care either way.

I head down the hall, past the employee kitchen and restroom, until I find the locked door closest to the lobby. My dad is the face of Malcom Properties, so of course his office is the first clients would find. It takes a moment to fiddle with the lock, but my cousin taught me well. While I spent my youth trying to excel in sports and school, Creed was busy being a little rebel. Lock picking is only one of many, um… skills he picked up.

I guess we haven’t changed all that much, just gotten older. He’s still a troublemaker and I’m still always aiming to be the very best.

Walking into my dad’s office, I scan the cold and almost sterile place, landing on the wall of file cabinets to my right. There or his computer? Where would the real juicy secrets be? It only takes a second to make up my mind, and in the next breath, I’m already halfway across the room.

I must be lucky or some shit, because the first file cabinet I open is filled to bursting with Celestial properties. I pull out stacks at a time, quickly leafing through them and pulling any that could be helpful. By the time I’ve gone through the entire drawer, I’ve got maybe a dozen locations around Black Creek that might fit the bill. They’ve all got basements — underground, right? — and are tucked back in quieter parts of the city where they’d be unlikely to draw unwanted attention. There’s even a location at the school, but I’m hesitant to put my hope in that one.

How easy would it be if Prudence was literally right below our feet? Seems too simple, but I take the file anyway and hope against all odds that my luck continues.

I’m about to turn around and head back to campus, but I stop myself. There are five more file cabinets along the wall, and a morbid curiosity has me drifting toward them. I pull open one, and then the next, finding some of my dad’s actual work files. I dismiss those quickly and keep looking. I don’t know what exactly I’m searching for… Until I find it and my stomach drops.

He has files on all of us.

There’s a file on me with details of every action I’ve taken against Prudence, along with every win and failure I’ve ever had, it seems. From flunking a math test in high school to winning a backwoods fight — I wasn’t even aware he knew about those — and everything in between, it’s all here. There are even dates of when I started and stopped sleeping with Heather. Not that I need the reminder. She was hot once. Then she got clingy and bossy and now she’s straight up certifiable. I should have listened to Creed and Griffin when they warned me to steer clear of her.

The next file I pull is chilling. It’s Creed’s. My father has notes from Creed’s psychiatrist, a list of the medication he’s on now, and all the pills he’s tried out in the past that didn’t work as well. There’s also a disturbingly detailed account of Creed’s stay in a mental institution. There are hints of malpractice and I feel fucking sick reading it. Restraining Creed on his bed for days on end. Experimenting with a cocktail of meds and drugs to document what it would do to a mentally unstable individual. Just as I flip the page and assume it can’t get any worse, it does. There’s a police report about the fire that killed Creed’s parents years ago.

It was an accident, a broken gas pipe. Creed’s dad went into the garage for a late night smoke, and the entire house went up in moments… Except this report makes it seem less innocent and more like it was planned.

“What the fuck,” I whisper in horror. Laying the papers flat on my dad’s mahogany desk, I quickly snap pictures of everything and then put the file back where I found it. Creed needs to know about his parents, but I also worry it’ll send him spiraling into an episode. He’s struggling enough with Prudence’s kidnapping. This will tip him right over the edge, a place he hasn’t truly been in years.

Swallowing my guilt, I decide I’ll hold on to this information for now. Just until we find Prudence, so I don’t exacerbate Creed’s instability.

As if his file wasn’t disturbing enough, I open Griffin’s next and regret it immediately. Just like Griffin told me, I find proof that our dads were the monsters behind what happened to him. That my dad was the one holding the knife. There are printed emails between my father and the chief of police — not in The Celestials, just paid handsomely by them — about covering up any evidence found that day. My dad demanded that Griffin’s attack look like a run-of-the-mill robbery gone wrong, and after a promise of a bonus into some account, the chief of police agreed. As if that weren’t bad enough, he also has printed texts between him and Griffin’s dad from the day prior to his attack. They planned the entire thing, weighed the pros and cons of ‘keeping him around’ or ‘saving themselves the trouble now.’

A wave a nausea hits me as I read it all. My knees grow weak while everything I ever thought about my father implodes. Sure, he’s always been a cold, uncaring man. He never saw me as enough. He even got physical from time to time.

But I never realized he was a literal murderer. A monster in man’s clothing. I can’t believe I looked up to him, wanted to be him, for most of my life.

I’m dizzy, unable to look through any more of Griffin’s file. I get photos of the pages I saw before putting everything back. Grabbing the last file I need feels like ringing a death bell. Like something is going to change spectacularly and horrifically with whatever I find inside. It’s Prudence’s file.

I have to pause and let my heart settle before I venture into it. When I finally gather the strength to flip the manilla folder open and read through the thick stack of paper before me, my world tilts on its axis.

“Oh my god,” I choke out, unable to breathe properly as new information and nightmarish terrors burn into my brain.

I got the answers I was looking for — the answers she’s been searching for — but I know without a doubt I can’t tell her.

Prudence won’t survive it.

23

Prudence

I’m not sure how long I wait in the mostly dark room, wrists bound and hung on a hook above my head. Time is funny like that. When it matters, time slows down or speeds up, sometimes freezing entirely, and you can never keep track.

All I know is that my arms are numb from being up for so long. My toe nails are chipped and broken from scraping on the concrete floor every time I’ve lost my balance. The coldness that once swept through my body is now gone, leaving me empty instead.

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