Page 71 of Oliver

He sighs and glances down at his hands. I follow his gaze and frown. Those same fingers killed women, girls and now they seem so innocuous with the veins and age painting them.

“Why did you do it?” I ask. I don’t need to explain. He knows what I’m asking. Why did he kill all those people?

“Because I could.”

It’s probably the most honest answer I will ever get from him, but it doesn’t ease the rage circling my soul. I suppose no answer will ever be good enough though. You can’t explain away sheer madness.

“And her?” I finally say.

His lips quirk in a smile. “She wanted to experience the finale. When I refused, she sought help elsewhere. Now tell me, Ollie. What did you do to her.”

“I didn’t do shit,” I growl, and his smile grows.

“But you did something, didn’t you?”

Penny

After waiting hours for Oliver to return, I finally went home. Maeve tried to convince me to stay but I wasn’t about to hear Oliver’s censure at finding me uninvited in his bed.

Once home, I climb the stairs tiredly and step into Dixie’s room. The mirror across the way mocks me and I avoid my reflection because I don’t want to see the wretched soul staring back.

I can’t get the thought of some poor dude dying of starvation or more likely dehydration out of my head. It’s bad enough she planned to kill him but what a way to go.

What happened that night to derail her plans? It would appear she took too many or the wrong type of drugs, but if that’s the case, who cut off her head and why?

Going back to my original theory, I surmise that the dick, whoever he is, staged her death to throw someone off the scent. Still, if she died from drugs, why bother?

Something somewhere leads back to this prick and whatever it is, they don’t want it found.

Did this asshole finish off the unlucky hitchhiker? Did they even know he existed?

If it didn’t have to do with the murders, then what? The Hunter’s Club maybe?

It would seem there are quite a few assholes coming through that inglorious group. Did Dixie know something that made this person nervous?

How would a drug overdose link to something that could implicate someone else?

Whoever gave her the drugs would be culpable. Per Bone, she was already high when he arrived, but he could be lying. Would Bone cut off her head to save his sorry ass?

If he did, that would mean he’s the one threatening me. I’m not exactly an expert in the underground dealings of Hate’s world but if it was Bone, he traded a hefty secret for Hate’s cooperation.

If so, what could it be?

As usual, I have no answers but plenty of freaking questions. The only person who knows one of the primary answers is Hate but without something to trade, he’s hardly going to entertain me.

I guess it’s time that I racked up my own fucking secrets.

To say I am physically sick to my stomach would be an understatement but I have to do this and so I suck it up as I pull into the lot.

Sabrina is leaning against her car when I arrive. Her inscrutable expression sends a tingle down my spine as I step out and round the hood.

“I knew you’d come crawling back,” she says, and I spin on my heel. “Wait. Wait. I’m sorry. Okay…”

Her pleading tone annoys the shit out of me, but I pause and say, staring at the trees surrounding the parking lot, “I don't like you and I don’t trust you. Don’t fucking piss me off.”

There’s an extended silence before she says, “I help you. You help me.”

“Do what?”

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