I fill them in on everything Mercy told me in the nurses’ office.
“Do you think they’ll find her?” Xavier asks.
There’s usually a hint of a smile in my brother’s eyes. Not now. Now he just looks tired and worried, with his hands stuffed deep into his gardener’s dark green overalls.
Besides the gray in our eyes—his warmer than mine—and our dark hair, we have little in common. Those similarities might have attracted unwanted attention, so he grew out his beard while preparing for our roles at Haven Academy.
“The cops will do their investigation,” I say. “Did Ms. Arkwright say anything about needing more help? Or is everyone going back to their rooms?”
Xavier vigorously scratches his beard, and Levi shakes his head with a smile. “Fleas?”
“Fuck you,” Xavier mutters. “Just itchy. Maybe we could go look around, you know, make sure she’s not there?”
“The cops are professionals. They will find her. The best thing for everyone is if we stay out of their way,” I say firmly.
Levi gives me a long look. “What about the janitor? Thomas Benson was hanging around the girls’ dorms.”
“That will have to wait.” The sound of police sirens grows louder as Ms. Arkwright emerges from the building, gripping her cell phone.
As one, we retreat deeper under the trees.
All our backstories are rock solid. If any cop decides to run a background check on any of us, they won’t find anything.
We spent months preparing for this investigation.
I lead the way to the teachers' dorms. “We won’t do anything until the cops finish what they’re here to do.”
“And Delilah?” Xavier softly calls after me. “What about her?”
“We keep our heads down and wait for the cops to finish their work. They will find her. We have our own reason for being here, and that reason is not Delilah Farrow.”
Chapter 12
Della
My poundinghead feels like a bowling ball, extremely heavy to lift.
I wince as I dig my fingers into my side, convinced the taser burned through my shirt to the skin beneath.
“Give them hell,” I mutter as I peel my cheek off a cold concrete floor and sit up, resting my back on a damp wall as I squint at the world around me. “Great fucking idea, Della.”
My world is dark, cold, and one hundred percent unfamiliar.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Someone is slamming a door or kicking it. I can’t decide which.
I flinch with each hard bang, cradling my abused head, which has suffered enough.
Then laughter. Male.
“You think she’s awake?”
“Zach got her good with the taser. Doubt it.”