Page 46 of Searching for Hope

“Wait.” The girl beside him jerks her head upward. The panic in her expression states she’s consumed more than just alcohol tonight. “You’re a cop?”

He laughs and slaps her backside lightly. “Off-duty. Don’t worry.” Then he turns back to me. “How’s your father doing?”

And then it floods back. He’s the police officer who came to the Sanctuary. The one who made my skin crawl. I straighten my shoulders and take a step back.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Michael, sensing my discomfort, takes my arm, beckoning me inside. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

The officer just stares at me with this stupid grin on his face. Like he knows something I don’t.

“What?” I snap.

He merely grins. “I didn’t say a thing.”

I allow Michael to drag me away, but I can feel the heat of the officer’s gaze on my back.

“Say hi to your dad for me,” he calls out.

I stop walking.

“Just ignore him,” Michael says. “He’s an asshole. Always has been. Hangs around like a bad smell we can’t get rid of. He’s useful at times though.” He tugs at me. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

The way he says it reminds me of our last encounter. It must remind him too as he rolls his eyes, coming back to take my hand and tug me up the stairs. “Nothing like that. You’ll like it. I promise.”

We walk into his bedroom at the end of a hallway. It’s cluttered with multiple large screens hanging on the walls and gaming consoles connected below them. There’s a fridge in one corner, and clothing and food-smeared plates are scattered over the floor. I guess the cleaner hadn’t got to his room yet. Or maybe he made this much mess in a day.

Michael opens a window that’s large enough for us to walk out and onto the roof. The party is a mess of color beneath us. The stars are high above. There’s a nest of oversized cushions and fluffy blankets off to one side.

“See?” Michael lays down. “Pretty cool, huh?”

And it is. The officer is small from up here. Small and insignificant. I watch him weave his way through the crowd, dragging the drunken girl behind him. He pulls out his phone and starts talking to someone.

“He was just trying to unnerve you,” Michael says, following my gaze.

“Well, it worked.”

There’s an uneasiness inside me now, wearing off the nonchalance of the alcohol I’d consumed earlier. Reaching for the glass in Michael’s hand, I down the contents before walking to the edge of the roof and staring down at the people below.

Do any of them have a clue who the others are?

Do the people snorting stuff up their noses know that a police officer walks among them?

Do the girls laughing and splashing in the pool have any idea what sort of business this family runs?

There’s nothing sinister about this party. No hint of what goes on behind locked doors. But as I look out over all the guests, I’m aware of just how much goes unnoticed and unknown, just how much evil lurks in the shadows.

I spot another familiar face in the crowd. “Hey!” I call out, but he doesn’t hear me. “Hey!” I shout louder. “Dominic!”

He’s dancing in the middle of a group. They’ve formed a circle around him, clapping and cheering him on as he moves theatrically and seductively, wrapping his hand around a nearby lamppost and gyrating against the pole.

“You know him?” Michael asks, coming to stand beside me.

The strength of the alcohol floods my system, forcing me back into my muddled state. In this moment it’s how I want to feel. Numb. Distant. Detached. I can only nod in answer to his question.

“You know, Dommie?” he repeats.

I nod again and then shake my head. “Dominic,” I correct. “I’ve only ever heard his mother call him Dommie. How do you know him?”

---