Page 138 of Please Hate Me

“That doesn’t apply when you tell a detective that your plans for the day include soliciting sex and premeditated murder.” He kissed the top of my head.

I melted into his embrace as a contented sigh left my chest.

“What do you need help with?”

Sebastian’s expression went serious as he made eye contact with my reflection. “It’s something to do with the case, so I need you to promise that this stays completely between us. Got it?”

My stomach lurched. Did he want my help with a homicide?

“I promise…. but what am I doing exactly?” If he asked to use me as bait, the answer would be a resoundingfuck off.

“Translation… I got this paper from my supervisor, and I think it’s involved in the case, but it’s all in French, and—”

“You’re illiterate?”

His playful smirk returned. “Not illiterate per se, just not fluent enough to read the paper, no matter how much I try.”

Deep down, I was glad Sebastian wanted my help. It made me feel useful, and it also meant I wouldn’t have to talk to him about what was bugging me.

“Since you asked so nicely, I can help.” I gave him my sweetest smile.

Sebastian led me to the bed and sat with me before slipping the newspaper into my hands. It was crunchy and yellowed with age. Before I could even read anything, I noticed that a large rectangle in the middle of the article had been cut out.

“What was here?”

Sebastian looked over my shoulder, tracing the inside edges like he hadn’t noticed them.

“I’m not sure… I’ll ask my boss when I check in with her.”

The way he spoke was too slow; it was like he didn’t believe his own words. But I also knew Sebastian was very secretive about his job. I wasn’t even sure who he worked for, and I wasn’t sure he’d tell me if I asked.

“Was it a picture of the killer?”

Sebastian stiffened, then gave a nervous chuckle and scratched his head.

“I, uh, I don’t actually know... that’s why I was hoping you could help.”

My heart skipped at the idea of seeing a picture of an actual suspect. What if it was someone I had seen walking around Hartwood?

“If I read it, can I see the picture?”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he blinked away his surprise.

“No, but I’ll allow you to ask five questions about the case.”

Good enough.

I squinted as I read through the page silently, preparing to summarize everything out loud. A knot formed in my stomachas I read the story of a family whose house tragically caught fire, killing everyone except for the oldest son.

“Well?” Impatience crept into Sebastian’s tone.

I tried to clear the lump in my throat before starting.

“In a tragic turn of events, the quiet town of Kingsbury, Quebec, became the backdrop for a devastating house fire that resulted in the deaths of seven.” Tears choked my next words as I got to the names and ages of the deceased, but Sebastian seemed completely disinterested until I started reading information about the survivor. “The oldest son, Calvin Waters, aged sixteen, was rushed to the nearest hospital after being spotted outside by local pastor Dale Cooper. Cooper reported Waters was unresponsive but breathing.”

I stopped to collect my thoughts. Sixteen was such a young age to lose everything, and the fucked-up part of me hoped Calvin died before he woke. That way, he wouldn’t have to endure being the only member of his family to walk away from this horrendous event.

“Does it say anything else about the cause of the fire?” Sebastian pushed his glasses up with one finger. “Or if Calvin just so happened to be the one to start it?”

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