Page 101 of Hate So Deep

However, he died in an abandoned warehouse across town. So where is Aimee?

Although it’s completely cruel to consider, if Aimee left with him, it would absolve me of any wrongdoing, and I can’t quite let go of the hope that it turns out to be true even as my heart burns with guilt at the thought.

With a shiver, I turn my focus when we pull into the drive of my once idyllic childhood home. Any more it feels like a shrine to times past, but I’m not interested in reliving the memories.

Thankfully my mom’s car is gone and after disarming the alarm, I pause in the threshold taking in the prohibitive silence until Dirk says, “Let’s start with Buck’s room.”

“Okay,” I say and lead him down the hall and up the stairs.

As soon as we approach my brother's room, I slow, allowing Dirk to take up the lead before he asks, “This it?”

When I nod, he touches my arm. “Lauren?”

“Hm?”

“I need you to concentrate on the room. Look for anything that’s out of place, moved or broken or…whatever.”

“Okay,” I whisper and follow him inside before forcing myself to focus on the contents.

The ginormous bed rests against the wall, beside which two nightstands sit at opposite ends.

Buck’s dresser, which used to be covered in miscellaneous shit stands to my right.

The closet door is open, and I glance inside, noting his clothes arranged neatly on the shelves.

Whatever Dirk hoped to find is probably gone, since my mom came through and cleaned everything up.

The woman probably couldn’t concentrate on anything else until everything was put back to her exacting standards.

Either way, this is useless, and I mutter, “My mom cleaned everything up.”

When Dirk stops behind me, I take comfort from his warmth, as I say, “She…Mom spent a lot of time in here…after.”

“Anything else?” he asks, eyeing the bed.

For Buck’s sixteenth birthday, Mom bought him the brand-new bed, complete with heavy wood posts and a canopy that practically brushed the ceiling, all for her little prince.

Yes, it’s really fucking stupid, and although better suited for a foreign dignitary, she chose it anyway.

When I shake my head, he says, “Where’s your room?”

With a weird tingle in my belly, I lead him down the hall and into my room.

I’ve never had a boy here before. Mom would freak if she knew I brought one home now, especially a northie and this is why I assess my room with new eyes.

I may not have a four-poster bed, but my pale wood furniture was hand built and flown in from France. I have my own adjoining bathroom with black granite counters and a walk-in shower.

From here, I can see the wall-to-wall closet of clothes that most women would dream of having, including designer brands I’ve never thought twice about owning.

When I glance at Dirk sideways, I’m relieved to see him focusing on clues or whatever, but I also wonder what he’s thinking as he turns in a circle, taking in the contents of my room.

I’m not exactly a clean freak but I do have shit lying around and ignoring his pensive frown, and my aching ribs, I pick up a few shirts and pairs of shoes before pausing.

I haven’t worn this sweater since my mom bought it for me two years ago and glancing around, I confirm, much of these clothes were at the back of my closet.

“Uh,” I mumble, picking up a handful of my clothes but when I look around, I drop them back to the floor because they’re everywhere.

“What?” he asks.

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