Page 22 of The Hate We Breathe
That makes me frown. “What other reason?”
Madison bites her lower lip, dragging her teeth over the pink flesh before releasing it. “Well, you know they say that killers often like to go back to the scene of the crime, but if they’re from Silverwood, then they probably can’t go to the city often. Whoever murdered him will probably be at the funeral. The cops are probably going to see who shows up.”
Holy. Shit.She’s probably right. We expect that whoever killed Morpheus knew him. That kind of death—being stabbed so many times—speaks to a personal vendetta. The killer might actually show up to his funeral. Which means… now, Ihaveto go.
9
NOLAN
Once practice ends, Lex and Gio hurry through their showers and gather their things to meet Juliet on the outside. When I don’t do the same, the rest of the team gets the message and they, too, hurry through their routines. Within thirty minutes, the place is a ghost town and I head back towards the showers.
Normally, I wait to get home or one of the guys’ places to shower. With Gio’s father blowing up my phone on the regular now, I can’t put him off anymore. The guys will take care of Juliet, and I’ll take care of placating Darrio Vargas. For now.
The empty echo of the locker and shower rooms leaves the place feeling eerie. I hurry through my shower, unwilling to get caught by the coach or one of the team coming back because they forgot shit. I’m just shutting it off when I hear the door to the locker room creak open. With gritted teeth, I lay a hand flat against the chipped tile of the half wall.
“Out,” I bark. Teammate. Coach. It doesn’t matter, whoever it is will get the memo. If it’s one of the guys, they’d have announced themselves. The fact that they didn’t means it’s not one of them.
I wait a moment and frown when I don’t hear the door creak back open. Instead, I hear the patter of footsteps. The scratchingof something and then a swish of something spraying. A cleaner, maybe? Someone with headphones in? I close my eyes and try to rein in my annoyance.
Thankfully, I brought my clothes with me and have them set outside of the shower stall. Whoever it is inside the locker room continues puttering around as I reach out and grab first a towel to dry myself down with and then my fresh clothes. I dress in record time, not feeling comfortable until I pull my t-shirt down over my back and chest. The fabric clings to my still semi-damp skin.
The shriek of the shower curtain being ripped back is followed by the fast pattering of feet and then the door to the locker room opening and closing.
“What the fuck…?” Was it one of the custodians or not? I grab my dirty clothes and towel and storm into the locker room only to stop dead.
My heart stops beating in my chest. My veins dry up and go ice cold.
Several photographs are taped to the front of the lockers. I move towards them as I read the words spray-painted in still wet red above them.
“Are you sure you can trust her?”
There’s no doubt in my mind who the “her” the question is referring to. Juliet’s face is in all of the photographs. Some have been taken in unfamiliar places—one through the gauzy window of a lavish bedroom. Morpheus’ house, I assume. Several are grainy and almost pixelated because they’ve been blown up to the size of the regular letter paper they’re printed on.
The red lines from the spray paint leak down, staining the pages left behind. I grab one and yank it down, tearing it away from the metal locker as I bring it closer for inspection.
This photo is of Juliet standing outside of her old apartment building, face illuminated by the golden glow of a fire. She lookshollow in this image, empty and lifeless. My eyes move up, scanning the rest.
There’s one of her at the party where Morpheus died. One of her walking alone through what looks like the parking lot of Silverwood Public. Another of her coming out of Cory’s Gym. The worst ones are those that show the relationship we have with her. There’s a picture of Gio and Juliet in a small bedroom that I don’t recognize, her body spread in his lap, hiding most of his. Juliet, though, is naked. Her pert breasts on display and her legs opened wide as Gio curls his fingers into her cunt.
I clench my fist, the photo in my hand crinkling under the sudden action. What’s even more disturbing is the fact that in each and every one, there are scratches. As if someone has taken a red pen and tried to claw out pieces of the woman depicted. Her eyes are completely covered in the marks in several and sometimes her entire face is marred by bigX’s. In a couple, the word “whore” is written in big, sharp letters over her face and body.
The disturbing and vile anger emanating from the photographs along with the message above makes one thing clear—the danger to Juliet didn’t die with Morpheus Calloway.
Whoever did this wants me to question her. They must not know that she’s with all of us. Because it’s obvious this is meant to make me jealous. The pictures of her with Gio and Lex. None are with me.
Reaching out, I rip a few more pages down to find my own locker. Quickly moving through the motions, I unlock it and yank out my bag before delving for my cell. The second it’s in hand, I hit a number I’ve dialed far too often these last few weeks.
When Viks picks up on the second ring, I don’t let him speak. “We have a problem,” I inform him coldly. I start ripping off more pictures, stacking them on the bench that runs the lengthof the room. I tell him about the message and the pictures as I work, growing angrier by the second. “I want them found,” I finally say, yanking down the last one and slamming my locker shut. “This is obviously personal. They want to fucking ruin her.”
“Is there anyone you know that has that level of hate for her?” Viks asks, voice calm. It’s always goddamn calm. I know I need it right now, but all I can think of is those damned scratches across Juliet’s face. The word “whore” written across her body and the fact that this person has likely been behind the scenes, wrecking her life from day one.
It’s too coincidental. Juliet has a stalker—one that isn’t Lex—and I’d bet money that they’ve been behind all of the bad shit she’s suffered for the last six months. Maybe not the embezzlement, but—or hell—maybe they were behind that as well. I don’t fucking know. But I do know one thing—Juliet Donovan is mine and I will burn the entire fucking town of Silverwood down before I ever let someone take her from me again.
“The whole fucking town hates her,” I snap into the receiver of my cell.
“What about before the embezzlement discovery?” Viks asks. “This would be someone who has held a deep hatred of her for a long time. If everything is connected, then they could be connected to most of this.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” I admit as I rip open the zipper of my backpack and stuff the photos inside. “I’m bringing these to you—I want your hacker to take a look at them and see if they can do something with this to track down whoever left them. Lex is too busy right now. I need him focused on protecting Jules.”
