Page 114 of Oliver

“Did you talk to your mom?”

Maeve crinkles her nose. “No. Not since she kicked me out.”

Dropping a shirt back into the drawer, I turn to Maeve. “Why would she do that?”

With a delicate shrug, Maeve says, “Because I turned in my dad.”

“Really?” Hard core. I knew I didn’t like her mother but damn.

“Yo!” Diem calls from the stairs.

Maeve enters the hall, and they exchange words while Willow approaches the closet. As soon as the doors open, she stumbles back followed by a thump.

“What?” I ask, stepping around the bed and staring at the overturned box.

“I’m sorry,” Willow mutters and I wave her off.

Dropping to my knees, I lift the box and the bottom gives way.

“Holy shit,” I breathe, and Willow shakes her head, covering her mouth.

Fuck me, but this wasn’t here before. Right? I swear I searched this room from top to bottom but maybe I skipped over the box which should have had hiking boots inside.

We turn to each other with matching wide eyes before Willow drops to her knees beside me.

Together, we stare at dozens upon dozens of pictures. They’re all of Dixie. In some she’s posed erotically, tied with a gag. In others, she’s her laughing normal self. Wherever she is, it’s dark.

What strikes me the most is the contrast of her laughter in some while in others, she looks completely terrified.

Was she a willing participant? Did she like this?

I’ll never know but I don’t want this to be the last image I see of her, and I reach for one of the pictures where she’s happy when Willow grabs my hand and says, “Don’t.”

It’s too late though because the picture slides to the side, revealing what’s underneath. It’s Dixie again but this time, she’s writhing around on the bed, covered in blood. It looks like she was running her hands sexily along her breasts but the crimson colored fingers against her pale skin is grotesque.

My gorge rises the longer I stare but I can’t move. “Why?” I whisper.

Willow let's out something between a whimper and a sob. Touching her shoulder, I say, “Are you okay?”

She bows her head and I sigh. I’m sure seeing Dixie posing in what I presume to be someone else’s blood is a shock especially when your sister was brutally murdered.

“Let’s go,” I mutter, pulling on her arm.

She pushes to her feet, but I stop, shoving pictures aside. At the bottom, staring into the camera with a glazed expression is Bone. Bone!

What the actual fuck? He not only knew but he participated?

Did he know Charming Charlie? I guess it’s not that far off considering his weird ass behavior, but I can’t wrap my brain around it. What were these fools thinking?

With a groan, I stand and follow Willow down the stairs. When we reach the first floor, Ramsay looks up from his phone as she rushes into his arms.

“What is it?” he says, and I clear my throat.

“I’m not sure we should have someone come in and pack my shit.”

Oliver

“Where is he?” I grunt but for my efforts all I get is a grim smile.

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