Page 103 of Kiss of Deceit
I rested my forehead against the window, the cold glass shooting a shiver through me. The silence in the house was welcoming. No keeping up pretenses. No lying. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could do it. Kole was catching on, not hiding his frustration. I’d lost count how many times he’d asked if I was okay.
I’d almost confronted him multiple times before stopping myself. Because I wasscared. I didn’t want to know that the man I was beginning to trust wasn’t the person I thought.
Letting the curtains fall closed, I rushed toward the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Even though I expected to have at least two hours, I wanted to make sure I had time to search before Kole came home.
I entered his room, flipping on the light. Even though I hadn’t spent much time in here over the last couple of weeks, it was as tidy and organized as always. My gaze swept over his perfectly made bed, my chest tightening. That had been my place of comfort. Ever since I found out the truth about Winterlake, my nightmares had returned in full force.
I crept across the thick carpet, opening his closet. Most of his wardrobe consisted of jeans and black t-shirts, and they were all hung neatly in a row. Dropping to my knees, I reached under the shirts, pulling out a shoe box. Nerves jumbled through me as I lifted the lid.
On the top was a large manilla envelope, and I carefully grabbed it, surprised at the heavy weight. Kole’s name was handwritten on the front, and I flipped it over to open it. I pulled out the top paper, my face getting hot when I realized it was a handwritten note. If I found out anyone was going through my personal things, I would be furious. But I wasn’t stopping now. I needed to know what kind of man Kole was.
My eyes dropped to the nicely written text.
Kole,
Don’t throw these away like you did the others. Our childhood might not be something you want to talk about, and I understand. But I think memories of our best times are important. Someday you might regret burning the photos you used to have.
Miss you big brother.
Love, Sarah
I read it three times,confusion sweeping through me. He had told me the truth about having a sister, and from this little note, their childhood had not been great. Maybe he hadn’t lied to me about everything. I pulled the stack of photos out of the envelope.
The first one was of a little boy who I could tell was a young Kole. A younger girl was sitting next to him, and he had his arm around her. He was nine or ten with a tight smile on his face. It wasn’t a happy smile. If I had to guess, someone had made him cheese for the camera. It seemed forced and didn’t reach his eyes. The sadness in his gaze pulled on my heartstrings more than I cared to admit.
His shirt was wrinkled and stained. I looked closer, examining the background behind them. The kitchen they were in was dirty with the side of the white fridge covered with something black that I hoped wasn’t mold. A lumpy cupcake without icing was sitting in front of them on a messy, cluttered table. I flipped the photo over, seeing a small note in Sarah’s handwriting.
My seventh birthday. Kole made chocolate cupcakes, and they were delicious.
I looked at the next picture, seeing a young Kole and Sarah again. They were sitting on a worn, torn couch and Sarah had her arms wrapped around Kole’s neck as she smiled at the camera. This time Kole wasn’t looking at the camera but seemed to be staring at someone off to the side. He had another forced smile on his lips, but it didn’t hide his emotions. The disconnect and grief in his stare made my heart dip. I turned it over, reading Sarah’s note.
Kole’s eighth birthday. He loved the card I drew him. We played on the PlayStation all day that Mom’s boyfriend brought over, and I think Kole let me win.
The rest of the photos were similar with just Sarah and Kole in them. I halted on one of the last ones when I saw a new face. Her features were so similar to Kole and Sarah, it was easy to deduce she was their mother. Her black hair was the same shade as Kole’s, and she shared the same dark brown eyes with both of her children. Her gaze was clear and happy, making me believe she was sober in this picture. The skin on her face was marred with small old scars.
She had one arm around each of her children, keeping them pressed against her sides. Sarah looked ecstatic to be next to her mother. Kole’s smile was filled with more hope than I’d seen out of all the pictures. I read the note on the back.
Mom took us to the beach. Even though it was freezing, we had so much fun. She wasn’t sick that month.
I sagged back, a wave of sadness for Kole and his sister hitting me. Their childhood was not a good one. But Kole? He shielded his sister. In all the photos, her smile was real while his was masked. He protected her over everything, even his own happiness.
He was just like me. Burdened with fear and grief because of his past. His story was different from mine, but only in the details. He’d been comforting me while dealing with his own devils.
His mug shot from Natalie’s files flashed into my mind. How could someone who cared so deeply for another, turn around and commit capital murder?
My stomach churned. From my studies, he fit the statistics. He grew up in a single mother household. Had an unstable and bad childhood. He had to grow up faster than he should have. The majority of those in prison had a similar story to his.
But at the same time, I just couldn’t imagine him as an evil person. Why? Was I blinded by my feelings for him? Was I so horrible at what I studied that I read him completely wrong?
I grumbled under my breath, carefully putting the photos back into the envelope. Searching his house was supposed to give me answers, not more questions. I set the envelope on the carpet and looked into the box again.
It was empty.
I frowned as I put the envelope back in it and carefully put the shoebox exactly where I found it in the closet. I scanned the rest of the floor under the hanging clothes, but there was nothing else. Climbing to my feet, I peered at the top shelf, but there were only winter accessories like gloves and hats.
After shutting his closet, I went to his dresser, pulling out the drawers one at a time. Briefs, socks, jeans, sweats. All were neatly folded and organized. I fell to my stomach, looking under the bed, not seeing anything.
There was nothing personal in here except those pictures. My mind raced as I strode into his small bathroom. There was nowhere to stash anything. Defeat began crawling through me as I went back into his bedroom. Everyone had secrets. Where were his?
