Page 126 of The Unravelings

Every second I’m locked away in this room, studying with Mack about some poor sap who got his heart torn out and his blood completely drained from him, is a second too long. Sure, I want to know what happened to poor Ezra. Nobody deserves to die like that. Not even a simple construction worker with no family to speak of. But why Mack? Seriously? Why did the universe put him in my path like this? Couldn’t I have simply been initiated into their gang with ease? That was the damn plan, after all.

But I guess this whole study buddy routine fulfills the purpose of my investigation. Being close to him and JJ while undercover and trying to befriend them is in the fine print of Jonathan’s tasks for me. Although Mack isn’t making it easy with his hateful looks and subtle declarations of revenge against me.

He has to know I destroyed the treehouse. He must have seen me walking away from it. But why not confront me then? Why confront me in class in a passive-aggressive way? Ugh. That means only one thing. He has plans to destroy me. Slowly.

Well, that makes my stomach turn even more when I sit in the familiar, third-story study room. Through the half-glass walls, I can see everything happening around me, which is a whole bunch of nothing. JJ wasn’t kidding when he said nobody comes to this side of the library. Except us. And now, Wilder and Mack. I want out of here as quickly as possible so I can get back to my quiet room. Yesterday, Simon left with Daniel to stay at a hotel and go on a date out of town, which gave me the night to myself. I walked around practically naked, feeling more relaxed than I have since I got here. Wade’s still in the hospital, not expected to come back to the dorms until the end of the week. And Simon? Well, he texted me that he probably won’t come back from his mini vacation for a few days. I’m glad he can afford to miss class. Me, on the other hand? I’m still in deep shit.

So here I sit at the study table, pulling out the folder our professor gave us and spreading the papers in front of me until they’re all in neat piles. Autopsy photos. Autopsy reports. Ezra’s personal history. Everything.

Picking up a crime scene photo, I cringe, staring at the naked man left for dead in the parking lot behind a building. Someone threw him away like trash after using him for parts and didn’t give him any dignity in death. Who would do that in this town? I mean, I have some guesses. Could Franco have done this? Is he doing it now? Or are new players throwing their hats into the ring?

“I fucking hate this place,” I mutter, rubbing at my temple and aching for a damn drink I know I shouldn’t consume. And I won’t. Drinking has done nothing but aid me in hiding my face and sleeping for days on end. Not to mention losing my damn glasses. It’s tempting, though. But what good of an agent would I be if I did that?

Not a good one.

I blow out a breath as I run my fingers over the other crime scene photos, trying to find more clues in the pictures. Not that I haven’t spread them out over the past week and tried to find any sort of direction. Whoever did this was very thorough in their clean-up efforts. No DNA was found at the scene. Just Ezra. The man who seems to be at the center of everything.

I pull out my phone.

Oli: Hey there, pal, how’s it going? Still bored?

I smirk when the dots in our chat immediately start to bounce.

Carter: Pal? Who the fuck you calling pal? I’m not your pal, Princess.

Carter: But I am always bored as fuck…

Oli: Don’t you run a company or something? Don’t you have a girlfriend and other dudes living there? How are you bored?

Carter: Because I fucking am? Did you text me to pester me, or do you have something to unbore me?

Oli: Both?

I chuckle when the dots bounce again and then stop and then start bouncing again.

Carter: Thank fuck. Because your last tasks were boring as fuck. Can’t track that asshole who put a tracker on you. That other fuck’s computer is locked up tight. Even I can’t access it, which shouldn’t be possible. And that dead chick you sent me? Dead end. Locations were off, and it’s untraceable. So…tell me you have something juicy as hell?

Oli: You have such a way with words… But yeah. I need help on a case I’m studying…

Carter: A case? Count me the fuck in. Now say please, asshole.

I roll my eyes.

Oli: Please, asshole?

Carter: Lay it the fuck on me. I’m going stir crazy. Thank fuck for fall break soon… So don’t ask for shit then. We’re leaving town. Maybe going to the beach or some shit to get some sunshine. And fucking. Lots of fucking.

Oli: I swear to fucking God, Carter. I don’t need to know about your sex life. Seriously!

Carter: …well, I won’t be fucking bored then. Sooooo…

Oli: Fine. Deal. I won’t pester you then. I’m working a case for a class that’s suspiciously connected to the other shit happening around town. Ezra Thornton. He was found naked with his heart and blood missing.

Carter: A case for class? Fuck. Whatever. I’ll look into everything and report back… I fucking guess.

Oli: You’re the best.

Carter: That’s fucking right, I am. Now go the fuck away. I’m busy.