“Where’d you hear that?”
“Mom said they were always fighting. And there were rumors that Leah was having an affair, so people thought she might’ve run off with another man.”
Connor pipes up, “But after they arrested Thorn, the police cleaned out his studio—”
“—and found all his drawings of her,” Jasmine finishes, glaring at her twin for interrupting. “Stashed away with portraits of the other women who’d disappeared. And a bunch of items that belonged to her too. That’s when they realized she was one of his victims.”
I think of the cabin, picturing all those sketchbooks hiddenbeneath the floorboards. His secret little nook for his sick trophies. I can’t stomach the thought that I sat on that floor, playing with my toys and painting my birdhouses, when right beneath me were drawings of murdered women.
Suddenly I’m not so hungry anymore.
I go to our bedroom and grab my phone, typing in “Leah Devereaux and Gabriel Thorn.”
One of the first images that pops up is a photograph of the sweetest little kids with dark hair and blue eyes. A boy and girl, clad in all black, standing at a funeral service.
Everett and Nikki.
I try to suck in a breath, but it’s bordering on impossible. My throat is clamped tight. My father is the reason they don’t have a mother.
I click to close the image, but that does no good.
Those two heartbroken children are all I see.
twenty
WTF
Me:Hey, I hate to do this over text, but it’s easier for me to articulate my thoughts if I’m writing them. It’s been really great getting to know you, but I think we need to cool things down.
Everett:Cool things down or end them?
Me:The second one.
Everett:Are you fucking serious right now?
Me:I’m sorry. It’s just moving a bit too fast for me. I don’t want a boyfriend. I want to focus on school and photography and graduating. I had a lot of fun with you, but I don’t think we should hang out anymore.
Everett:Where is this coming from?
Everett:Seriously? You’re going to leave me on read?
Everett:WTF Ryan
twenty-one
Secret Weapon
Nearly a week after Everett’s party, I shuffle into the kitchen to find Jasmine and Gillian camped out at the table, huddled over coffee mugs and plates of toast. Gillian slept over last night so they could finish their American history presentation that’s due today. They kept me up half the night with their giggling and gossiping.
I’m hoping to grab something quick before they notice me, but Gillian’s face lights up as soon as I cross the threshold.
“There she is,” the redhead chirps. A mischievous grin stretches across her face. “The notorious dumper of Everett James.”
I swallow my sigh. The two of them were hounding me about it last night, and evidently they didn’t get their fill.
Jasmine pops the last piece of her toast into her mouth. “Still can’t believe you did it over text. That’s ruthless, cousin.”
I keep my expression neutral and reach for an apple. “It’s not like we were together for ten years. It was only a few dates.”
