Page 61 of Oliver

I eye his bed covers distastefully before sitting down while Bone zones out and I have to snap my fingers to bring him back to the present.

“Whatever,” he rasps. “Dixie was gonna go all the way.”

“Huh? I thought they had been fucking for months?”

Shaking his head, he says, “Not sex, Penny.”

“Then…Like fucking what? Killing someone?”

He cocks his head and I look away, icy cold sweat trickling down my back. Is it possible? Why the fuck would Oren and Bone standby and let this happen?

As if he can sense my thoughts, he says quietly, “That night, I met up with her. She was flying high. Talking a mile, a minute and I tried to talk her out of it. Shit.”

Flying high. Dixie died of a drug overdose, supposedly.

“So, you saw her the night she died?”

With a nod, he closes his eyes. “I didn't really believe it, you know? Dixie was always talking crazy shit. I thought she was just being…her.”

“What happened that night?” I ask, waving my hand.

Am I barking up the wrong tree? Does it matter? I’ve got a weirdo stalking me and I can’t pretend that a few warnings are enough to get them to back off. What if whoever decides I truly am a threat?

Can I stop now and sleep peacefully knowing someone could be coming for me?

“We partied. I left her at the house.”

“We?”

“Yeah. Matt, me, and her.”

Matt? Why the fuck were all these assholes keeping this secret?

“Anyway, she said she was meeting up with her man. I assumed it was Mr. G,” he says, and I whip around.

“Assumed?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, like an hour later, I saw Mr. G with some dude across town.”

“So maybe it wasn’t Kenny?” I muse out loud and Bone eyes me strangely.

“Kenny? Please tell me you didn’t fuck that wrinkly dude too.”

“Whatever,” I say, and he barks out a laugh.

“What is it with that dude? He says jump and you do, right on his dick?”

“Bone!” I hiss and he stands.

“Look, all I know is that Dixie was high when I left. She was going to meet someone, and I don’t think it was Mr. G.”

With these newest revelations, I go home and immediately send Ramsay the messages. He’s got more resources than I do and knowing Dixie even spoke of potentially taking a life the same night hers ended creates a wildfire of panic in my soul.

She wasn’t planning this alone. So, whoever cut off her fucking head, whether she died from drugs or not was sending a message. One I suspect I’m heeding too late.

I mean, if whoever went that far, they meant business, including stopping Dixie from her rash plans, however macabre.

What does that mean for me? How do I reconcile what I learned with the little girl with the gap-toothed smile?

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