Page 131 of Diem

“Someone left rabbit’s feet for me too,” Willow says quietly.

“Wow. Okay,” I whisper. “What does it mean? Why you?”

Willow shrugs. “Maybe this freak targeted me and Penny because of our sisters?”

It could be except if Diem thinkshisfather was the Lucky Charm killer, this leaves my dad as the one who killed Dixie.

What’s the connection?

“Look, at Fight Club the other night, someone left panties on my car,” I say.

Diem swings around, his hands clenched at his sides, but I avoid his gaze and say into the silence, “I swear I saw them before…”

“They weren’t yours?” Diem rasps and I shudder.

This is the Diem I saw the night he beat up Jaxon. With a trickle of worry, I say, “No. I thought they were Mom’s.”

“This is…unexpected but I think we can safely say your dad isn’t wandering around Fight Club with panties meant for you,” Ramsay says with a thoughtful expression.

Silently conceding he has a point, I say, “Either way, Dad was with Dixie. She knew things about him, that…ugh.”

“So, Dad fucked her, doesn’t mean he killed her,” Oliver grumbles and I meet his warning stare. But I’m not finished and whether he knows it or not, he needs his damn friends to see this through. As it stands, Diem may never truly speak to me again, so I guess Ollie has nothing to be angry about.

“Look, I found something else,” I say before hesitating. I hardly need another lecture from these assholes but it’s important.

Diem drills me with his stare, and when I raise a brow, his icy eyes fade to disgust. Fucker.

Setting aside the ache in my chest, I say, “I found an article. About a girl who disappeared a long time ago.”

After producing the paper I’ve been carrying around in my backpack, I wait while the others read it over.

The silence that greets me after tells me what I’ve been thinking this whole time. There’s more to this than anyone could have guessed but I already know more than I wanted to.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Maeve

After an interrogation that would make a terrorist cry, Ollie brings me back to the school for my car. He doesn’t speak on the drive and I’m not much for conversation either but when we pull into the lot, he says, “You need to forget everything and walk away, Mae.”

Chuckling, although there is nothing humorous about any of this, I lean back into his car and sneer, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, fuck you. When you’re ready to tell me why you sent that bitch to hit Penny over the head…then we’ll talk.”

He opens his mouth, but I slam the door closed and slide into my own vehicle. With Diem’s ice out, which was so severe, I know he won’t be coming around; I’ve found that I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be me.

No more hiding. I will see this through even if it kills me.

My first stop includes a drive back through neighborhoods that make me itchy. When I pull up to the trailer that I watched Diem escort his mom back to, I pause with my hand on the door. Do I really want to do this?

I do if I want answers and Diem’s mother, beyond my brother and Ollie is the closest to him. The door, still hanging by a proverbial thread, shudders when I tap on it. I hear the faint shuffle of what I hope are feet inside before it swings open.

Mrs. McCafferty greets me with a glazed look that sends my heart to my toes. Once upon a time, she was a beautiful woman with Diem’s dark eyes and a husky laugh. Now, her skin is practically folded into itself with the lines of an addict's life, and she sways on pencil thin legs, her body so brittle, I could knock her over with my finger.

“What?” she slurs, and I consider giving up. What am I here for anyway? Diem was crystal clear about his feelings.

Still, I need this connection. I don’t know why beyond that I want the reasons behind Diem’s messed up behavior and I’m hoping she can give them to me.

“Mrs. McCafferty,” I say softly, and her eyes drop to mine. Her brows furrow before she says, “Maeve? That you?”

Nodding, I step inside when she backs away, eyeing the small room with wide eyes. Every available surface is covered in dirty dishes, discarded mail, and drug paraphernalia that I refuse to analyze too closely.

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