Page 6 of Oliver

The detective glances at my mom dismissively before turning back to me with an eagle eye. I’m a sweaty mess and have to resist the urge to rub my itchy palms down my legs. Keep it together, Penny.

“Your daughter was communicating with a man on social media.”

Really? On social media? Surely, they’ve at least found the damn messages I have. Right? But if so, why not mention them? What’s the game?

“Oh? Why didn’t you tell me, Pen?”

Smiling weakly, I say, “I didn't know.”

Tears press at the backs of my eyes. This is good for my situation, showing emotion in the face of this jerk's suspicions, but not something I thought I would have to worry about.

My sister died. However, now I’m standing on the precipice of something that I can’t move past. Who else is going to die before this is over?

“Pen?” Mom asks, covering my fisted hands.

With a wan smile, I say, “It’s okay, Mom.”

Her brows furrow and I see the first spark of life since Dixie died as she turns back to the detective and says, “Detective, who was she messaging? I just, I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Loughlin,” he says, his mustache jumping over his face. “I can’t reveal the nature of the messages right now but let’s get back to the topic at hand. Penny. Can I call you Penny? Why don’t you tell me the last time you saw your sister.”

No, you can’t, dick.

“Well, it was the night she um, never came home.”

Once again, I’m repeating myself. The other cop already asked me this shit. How many times do I have to say the same thing, especially now in front of Mom?

I avoid her gaze because I have zero desire to see the questions in her eyes. I let Dixie walk out the door knowing something was up. Beyond that, I lied about where she was because I thought she was out partying.

“Okay,” the detective says. “Do you know who she was hanging around with?”

“She said she was meeting a friend. A guy but she never told me his name. I assumed it was a student.”

When I first found out about Dixie’s death, I admitted that she was dating an older man. Will the asshole make me say it again, in front of my mother?

“Okay, and she didn’t tell you who?”

“Not really,” I whisper through the lump in my throat. Was it Mr. G? Oliver? Some other freak? A fucking duo? I don’t know and it’s eating me up inside.

“Not really? So maybe?”

Whipping my head up, I sneer, “No, I don’t.”

What is this? Bad cop—good cop all rolled into one?

He sighs and leans back in his chair, looking me over with a calculating expression that I can’t say I appreciate very much. “Penny, we need to talk to anyone who may have seen your sister before she died. If you know something, you need to tell me.”

“Why would I know anything?” I ask, grabbing the underside of the table.

He glances at my mom, who gazes between us with wide eyes.

“Look, Penny, this isn’t a game. If you know something, you need to tell us.”

Excuse me? What the actual fuck?

Leaning back, I cross my arms and demand, “What’s going on here? Is this about Dixie or me? Obviously, I didn’t kill my sister and whoever else. I don’t know what she was doing, I was at home.”

Mom shifts uncomfortably in her seat and sighs, “Look detective, obviously we want to help but as Penny said, she doesn’t know anything.”

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