“She knows something,” I whisper.
“She knows everything,” Luke murmurs back. “That’s the problem.”
He finally steps back, putting space between us, and the night air feels cold where he was warm. “Come on. Let’s see what she was looking for.”
Luke takes my hand, leading me inside the boathouse, where I want to find answers, except now all the answers I want center around Luke and Lana.
Chapter Eighteen
LUKE
The boathouse smells of stale lake water and something metallic that makes my jaw tighten. I’ve been in enough locker rooms after fights to know the smell of blood when it hits my nose. I bet I missed it last night between finally getting Madeline alone and finding a dead body. It didn’t help that I had a good buzz going. No more drinking for me while Madeline might be at risk. I need to stay sharp.
I don’t let go of Madeline’s hand. She’s trembling, barely noticeably, but I feel it in her fingers. She’s scared. She’s also furious; I saw it in her eyes when Lana mentioned the bet, the way she went rigid against me like she wanted to bolt or fight or both. I wasn’t going to play Lana’s games, not with Madeline standing there. I wanted her ass gone as quickly as possible. Putting that bitch in her place is something that I can do tomorrow. The same way I’m going to revisit the kiss that I shared with Madeline and how it threw me off-kilter.
“Stay behind me,” I say and step partly in front of Madeline so that I can still keep a hold of her hand but shield her as well. I don’t need her seeing more fucked-up shit. Though I know she won’t do as she’s told. She doesn’t answer, just squeezes my hand hard.
I find the switch on the wall by memory, my fingers tracing splintered wood until they hit the cold metal. The light that flickers on is worse than darkness. A single bulb hangs from a frayed cord in the center of the ceiling, swaying slightly from some draft I can’t feel. It casts everything in jaundiced yellow, shadows pooling in corners, making it all that much more ominous.
The concrete floor is stained dark in a pattern that makes my stomach clench. Not just blood. Someone tried to clean it or move something through it, smearing arcs and streaks that glisten in the dim light.
“I would have noticed that last night and the body wasn’t even there,” Madeline whispers. Yeah, we might have been drunk, but that is a large area. “You think it’s blood too, right?” I’m not sure I want to tell her what I think it is. “Luke?” She peers up at me through her lashes, and I can’t not tell her. Not when she is looking to me for answers and I can give her one. It might win me points too.
“I think it’s blood that someone spilled,” I tell her. They spilled it as they cut the body up is my guess, but I don’t say those words out loud yet.
“But the body was gone.”
“Was it?” Her brows pull together, and the confusion on her face is adorable, but I won’t be telling her that, not at this moment. “What if they saw us run from here and quickly stashed it, which, fuck, makes sense.” I run my hand down my face. That means they know that we know. Not fucking good. That puts Madeline in much more danger than I anticipated.
I should have thought about that last night. A person wouldn’t have time to move a body that quickly without being noticed unless they had help, but still. That’s tricky.
“You think they stashed it in here.”
“Yes, and then I think it was dismembered.” A small gasp leaves her, and I pull out the small flashlight I’d snagged before we left that house so that I can get a better look at the walls.
“Is that what I think it is?” It’s barely noticeable on the wood paneling, but there is blood on the walls. A small smear tells me they tried to clean it up but missed a few spots.
“Yeah.”
“She really is dead,” Madeline whispers. I let her hand go to wrap an arm around her and tuck her into me. She lets me bury her face in my chest. That hard exterior she presents to the world is slipping, and fuck, does it feel good that she’s allowing me to see this side of her. I know she keeps that shit locked up tight. In that I understand Madeline.
I kiss the top of her head and feel her take a few deep breaths, trying to compose herself. She clears her throat before tipping her head to stare up at me, but she doesn’t step back. Madeline’s body is still pressed flush to mine. She hadn’t pushed away when I kissed the fuck out of her, either. In fact, her fingers gripped tighter on to me as she kissed me right back.
“We should try to see where they hid her,” Madeline says, her voice steadier now. “There could be a clue.”
“All right.” I force myself to step back, to focus. “But you stay slightly behind me. No arguments.”
“No arguments,” Madeline agrees. “I’ll have time to get away while they kill you.”
“Exactly.”
“Luke.” She squeezes my hand. “I was joking.”
“Well, I wasn’t.”
I keep her close as we move toward the back of the boathouse, my flashlight cutting through the dim yellow glow. The concrete floor shows faint drag marks, lighter than you’d expect from moving a whole body. Like something being carriedin pieces, confirming more of what I thought: They cut Coach Murphy up.
“See that?” I point the light at a dark smudge near the wall. “The person didn’t drag her out. I think that whoever it was, carried her out in parts.”
