Page 5 of Oliver

I don’t regret my decision to find Dixie’s killer, but someone knew we were in those woods, both Maeve and me.

While I’m not sure I can definitively say I care about dying, what with the way my dead heart rests in my chest, involving Maeve was a bad move.

Was the rabbit's foot a warning or a promise?

With a glance behind me to ensure I’m alone which is stupid because who else would be here, I scroll through the messages between Dixie and all these freaks.

Although there are plenty I can see, the conversations seem to jump around making me wonder what I’m missing.

Need 4 Speed:I’ll fuck you up, baby.

Ray:You ever seen a chick orgasm while being choked?

Hunter:Who cares if they orgasm?

Charming Charlie:I like mine tied up and begging.

Ugh. Who are these freaks? Why would Dixie ever entertain them?

“Penny?” Mom says, knocking softly on the door.

Rolling to a seated position, I stare at the wood. I know I’ve been praying that my mom would snap out of her funk and join the land of the living, but I suspect whatever she wants isn’t going to be something along the lines of, any thoughts for dinner?

With a sigh, I open the door and meet Mom’s glazed expression. “Yeah?”

She licks her lips and I eye her with a frown as she says, “Come on. We need to speak to the detective.”

She disappears before I can respond, and I shake my head and follow.

It’s quiet when I step into the dining room. Mom smiles feebly but I see the tic in her jaw. She’s one step away from going on a rant and I’m not sure whether I hope she waits until the detective leaves or not.

Either way, she’s a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, and I admit, if only to myself that I don’t have the energy to talk her down.

This leaves me with a dull headache brewing at the base of my skull and a butt load of resentment for the detective sitting opposite with a walrus mustache and gives no fucks attitude.

Dick.

“Pen,” Mom says, her chair squeaking as she rocks in her seat. “The detective wants to talk to us about Dixie.”

Although I want the fucker who killed my sister caught and badly, the incessant fucking questions get on my nerves. Especially because they’re the same damn thing over and over.

“Okay,” I say, hiding my clenched hands in my lap.

“Now, Miss Loughlin, did your sister ever mention a relationship she might have been hiding from your mother?”

Mom shifts beside me, and I bite my cheek. Now is my chance to reveal everything but I find I can’t speak. How do I explain my suspicions?

What will happen if I do? There are too many variables that I don’t understand but I do know with clarity that Charming Charlie knows who I am. It’s not something I can ignore.

“Um, not really. She never mentioned anything.”

The detective raises his brows, his gaze boring into mine, but I keep my eyes wide and stare back at him as any innocent person would. Which I am. Fuck.

“Are you sure?” he finally grumbles.

“Yes...” Lies. All lies. But what can I do? There’s a freak out there threatening me, and these bumbling fools are still looking for a fucking serial killer.

“Wait, where is this coming from?” Mom interjects.

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