Page 38 of The Secrets of a Sin

“Detective Pierce.” I nod. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” I lift my chin feeling all curious eyes on me. He drops his head down in a low laugh before raising it and meeting my gaze.

“Just wanted to stop by and check in on you.” He shrugs, but I could see from his facial expression that there was more to it than that. Surrounded by prying eyes and eager ears, he nods towards an empty picnic table away from everyone. “I just need a moment alone with Charlotte, if that’s okay?” He regards Principal Welch, who appears reluctant to let me go but nods in agreement.

I take one last look at all three girls, finding Annalise chewing on her bottom lip mercilessly while her eyes are solely focused on Detective Pierce. They aren’t filled with the same lust-filled intensity as Verity, but more like irritation and worry. But perhaps I was reading her wrong, especially since Priscilla was giving him the same glare, and I knew it was because of her hostility towards men.

“Ladies.” He nods politely at the three of them while gesturing his hand for me to lead the way. I briskly saunter past a bothered Principal Welch, who appears half-tempted to follow us, but instead starts nagging at Annalise and the rest of the girls.

As I approach the picnic table, I can sense Detective Pierce's presence directly behind me, but the second I spin to catch him close at my back, I realize he's already perched down in the seat across from me. “You okay? You seem jumpy?” He evaluates me closely as I brush off whatever strange feeling I have.

“I'm fine.” I grumble. I didn't particularly feel on edge at this very moment, but perhaps it was Phoebe's death that was still haunting me or the new people who recently entered my life. When I first started at St. Catherine's, I was just another girl who roamed the halls, but now it seemed everyone wanted something from me. Arsen, Annalise, Principal Welch, and now Detective Pierce. While they all sought out different things, it was all still the same notion.

He regards me carefully as I take a seat across from him, and I return the favor. With my hands now resting on the chipped wood of the table, our eyes clash in a never-ending stare that has my skin heating up to a detrimental degree. “New friends of yours?” He nods towards the right, where the girls stand, without ever peeling his eyes off mine. As we continue to stare, my attention focuses on the scar that droops down his eyebrow towards his eyelid. Today, it appears more prominent than on the day we met, but maybe it was just the way the sun illuminated it. It wasn't an ugly scar. If anything, it made him more attractive.

“How do you know they're new”" I raise a dark brow by his accusation. Did I not look like a girl who would be friends with them?

Reaching for his hat, he lifts it off his head before swiping the back of his hand across his forehead like he's removing a sheen of sweat off his skin. “Just an observation.” He answers while placing his navy-colored hat back on his head of curls. “Interesting group of girls.” He mumbles, forming his lips into a horizontal line as his eyes gravitate toward where they stand. His eyes were full of intrigue but not in a good way. He was watching them like a cop would, with suspicion and uncertainty, but he swiftly shook it off when he focused back onto me.

“Can we just cut to the chase, Detective." I groan, emphasizing the word ‘detective’. He obviously came here for a reason, and instead of ripping the band-aid off and telling why he's here, he decides to prolong our conversation.

“I told you. Call me Rolland.” He demands, leaning towards me but not enough for it to be considered weird.

Sighing, I ask again. “Why are you here, Rolland?”

Satisfied, he smiles but quickly returns with a stoic face. “Arsen Hale. Do you know him?” The way he says his name is almost like the words burn his tongue on the way out. It was obvious from his tone that Rolland wasn't fond of him. And I could totally understand why. Arsen was as dominant as he was mysterious. A wickedly handsome cunning man, who undoubtedly would have issues with law enforcement. His foul mouth was trouble. He had serious controlling issues and, of course, an insatiable need for vengeance.

“I know of him. Why?” I don't exactly lie, but I don't tell the truth either. I could sense that the conversation would get worse, but his features seem to soften after my answer.

“If he ever tries talking to you, call me, and I'll handle him.” He grunts. “Apparently, he's been making some late-night trips here, but we're not exactly sure what he's doing or what his goal is?”

Swallowing what feels like a large lump in my throat, I nod in response, not knowing exactly how to respond. Keeping a straight face and cool composure in front of a cop wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do, but he seemed to have no inkling that I knew Arsen. “Do you think he's dangerous or something?” I force the question out when I already know he’s dangerous. Was he capable of killing? Probably. Was he capable of destroying all my hard work and getting me to do something I most likely will never regret? Hell yes. I wasn't afraid of what harm his hands would cause with a knife or gun. Killing for revenge was justifiable. But what really terrified me was the torment his hands would cause if they consumed my fragile flesh. He has already done vile things to my body but giving him the satisfaction of having me completely would be far more painful than physical harm.

“At this point, anything is possible when it comes to him. Especially now that his sister is dead, and he thinks someone murdered her.” He shifts in his seat, but keeps his attention focused on me.

“Have you spoken with him?” I ask, feeling odd talking about Arsen like I have no idea who he is.

“A couple of times for questions, but the whole thing was a giant shit show.” He shakes his head. “He's fucking unhinged now, and I don't want him bothering you about his sister, or any other student, for that matter.” His face is flush with anger, and I awkwardly sit there, avoiding his eyes.

“Well, he hasn't tried speaking with me.” I lie. A big fat major lie that sounds believable and he seems to buy it. “Maybe he's just mourning her by coming to the last place where she was?”

Or maybe he was running around the school with me, trying to find evidence that his sister was murdered.

“I don't know.” He rubs at his light bushy brow with the scar. “The whole situation is a cluster fuck.” He sighs in annoyance, and that's when I notice the tension in his gaze. His under eyes are baggy and loose like he hasn't gotten much sleep the past few nights, and his beard looks overgrown and in serious need of some landscaping.

“Care to elaborate?” I question.

“We heard about his little stunt at Phoebe’s memorial. Caused a whole fucking scene there…” He shakes his head with a scoff. “I just get a bad vibe from him.”

I’m positive everyone he meets gets a bad vibe from him, but, of course, I was the fool who didn’t care.

“It’s fine, Rolland.” I try to pacify him by using his name, and his eyebrow lifts in amusement. “If he bugs me, I’ll let you know.”

He studies me closely before reaching into his pocket and placing a small card down in front of me. “Give me a call if you need anything. If he so much as steps foot on this property and you catch him, call me, and I’ll handle him.”

“I will.” I nod, placing my fingertips on the card and dragging it closer to me.

“He’s dangerous, Charlotte. Don’t let him fool you.” He rises from the bench, keeping his eyes glued onto my face. “I’ll see you around.” With a wink, he spins around and leaves me sitting alone at the picnic table.

As if I didn’t already have enough to worry about, now I have Detective Rolland sniffing around the school.

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