Page 150 of XO Karma

“What?” I turn her way, in complete and utter shock. I’m dealing with enough. The thought of my father saying “I told you so” would push me over a cliff. “No fucking way. I want nothing to do with him. Why would you even suggest that?”

“I know, but maybe he could help this once.”

“With what?!”

“Just clean-up duty.”

My brows pull. “You sound like one of his goonies,” I say, and my blood runs cold as her eyes meet mine. “Annabelle. Please, tell me you haven’t been working with Dad.”

She laughs, patting my shoulder. “You’re getting paranoid. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll leave. Okay?”

I nod, contemplating her every word and not appreciating how she avoided my question. But given my fear for Lily’s safety is an urgent matter, I simply say, “Thank you.”

“Don’t do something I can’t bail you out of.”

My lips press in a flat line, and I pull her in for a tight hug. “I’ll try really hard not to get caught.”

The moment I walk through my front door, anxiety cripples me from the inside out, afraid of what I’ll find.

Nearing the kitchen, I see everything is as I left it. Both phones are dead, so I plug them into the chargers, desperate to see if Lily’s sent me any messages. Maybe she went into hiding from someone else rather than me. Avoiding the inevitable, I take a few minutes throwing away spoiled food and wiping down the counters. I force my legs towards the stairs to head to my room. I’m well aware she won’t be there, waiting for me, but I’m hopeful all the same. For evidence, answers, anything.

After a much-needed shower, I return to the kitchen to check my phones. There are ten missed calls from the Solarium, an array of messages from Diego, a few from my sister. There’s also a missed call from my dad. So much for him not finding anything out. And there’s absolutely nothing from Lily. A pit twists in my gut.

Baby, where are you?

I call her number. It’s a delusional attempt, but still I try. As expected, it goes to voicemail. I try Jackson. Voicemail. I try three more times for good measure.

Voicemail.

Voicemail.

Voicemail.

Fuck.

Cursing every bit of trust we’ve built, which I suppose would be irrelevant if she’s truly in danger, I head down to the basement so I can use my laptop to check the location of the tracker in her phone.

Walking through the door of the research room, I stop dead in my tracks. The murder board has been emptied, and only a cluster of papers remains tacked in the center. What the hell? With heavy feet, I drag myself closer to photos with an all too familiar style.

Kodak has made a personal delivery.

My gaze catches on blue eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes, vacant and staring right through my soul. My mind whirls, chest constricting. “No.” I trace the skin, spotting one familiar tattoo after the other. “No.” Tears prick my vision, and I blink them away. A leg is lying to the side, and there are the last two letters of the words I carved into her thigh. I shake my head. “No.” My voice cracks.

Blood stains a sheet tucked around her. Nausea rises in my esophagus. Breathing is difficult. No. Her hands are tied. She must have been so afraid.

My knees hit the floor, and I drag my hands through my hair. Tears that haven’t escaped my eyes in over a decade escape as a guttural scream leaves my body, fire erupting inside me. I refuse to believe this is real.

I don’t know who’s responsible.

I don’t know where Lily’s body is. If she’s dead or alive.

But I do know one thing.

Hell has arrived in Cleosville, and Heaven help those responsible.

Death will not be a mercy I give so easily this time.

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