Page 127 of The Unravelings

I snort, shaking my head. I swear to God, one day Carter will become a valuable asset to Veritas. One day. He’s too busy, though. His girlfriend and her other boyfriends are in college a few hours away, and Carter is currently running the company his mother left to him. CC Tech.

Jonathan knows about him. Hell, he met him when we investigated their old prep school, East Point Prep. Carter was our inside man during the investigation. Something we always have before setting foot into an investigation.

Except this one. That’s my job, now.

Jonathan has no idea Carter’s been helping me for years since me and technology don’t get along. I can get into the basics. Like the Veritas system to look up old files and type up my current missions. Oh, and my emails. Other than that, I’m useless when it comes to computers, despite my degrees.

My gaze snaps at the slightest hint of movement outside the study room. Mack weaves through the tall bookshelves with a scowl etched deep on his face. A permanent look for him these days, it seems. My stomach drops at his appearance. God, I remember the smiles he used to wear. They were contagious and real, taking up his entire face. The way they lit him up from the inside out. Mack was a golden retriever trapped in a man’s body. I can still hear his laugh in the back of my mind. The old Mack.

This new Mack, though? Something seems to weigh down every inch of him. Like all the worries of the world rest on his shoulders that sit tight at his ears. Tension radiates off him, giving fuck off vibes. Light a match, and he’ll go up in flames, exploding until the entire world burns with him.

As Mack passes the DVDs on the shelf outside the study room, he abruptly stops and gazes at them with a crestfallen expression, as if lost in the titles. His fingers brush along the spines of the cases until his hand drops at his side. A heavy breath blows between his chapped lips, and he shakes his wet, shaggy blond hair and seems to come back to himself. The scowl pulls at his lips again, and he forces his gaze away from the DVDs to the carpet beneath his feet.

For several beats, he waits there. The time ticks away one second at a time until Mack’s chest heaves, and he steps away from the movies on the shelf. His expression holds what seems like a glimpse of grief.

Mack cringes when he takes a single step and runs a free hand down his right leg, muttering something I can’t hear through the thick glass of the study room. He shakes that away too, limping a few steps until he stops outside the door and pulls it open, storming into the room like a damn hurricane hell-bent on destroying everything in his path.

Mack doesn’t spare me a glance as he limps into the room and plops into the chair opposite me. He sets a heavy backpack beside him with another wince and rifles through it, pulling out a thick folder stuffed with papers of different sizes, and drops it onto the table with a thud.

“I’ve got forty-five minutes to get this shit over with. Then I have more class,” Mack grumbles, wincing as he readjusts in the hard library seat. “Unless you want to give me the evidence folder and let me finish it off.” He raises a brow, looking me over with a hopeful glare.

So very tempting, Macklyn. But that’s a no from me. Who knows what he’ll do to sabotage my involvement in the project? Or Wilder’s. I’m doing this so we all get the grade. Because right now, I really need my grades to go up again.

I snort. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase teamwork makes the dream work?” I quip back, straightening my papers into piles with a huff. “This is a group project.”

“Too many fucking times,” he sighs, rubbing his temple and squeezing his eyes shut. Frown lines pull at every inch of his tired face. “It would be so much fucking easier if we could meet every night or some shit, but I have too much going on.” With every word he says, his voice gets softer. More tired. More weighed down. Just like him.

For whatever reason, Mack is working himself to the bone, and I have no idea why. They have it so damn easy in that house. Sure, Franco sucks. But he isn’t up their ass anymore.

Maybe I shouldn’t care. Maybe I should focus on this investigation and leave my personal feelings at the door. Which is way harder than I thought. JJ’s words ring through my mind every time I look into their eyes. It wasn’t us. We wouldn’t have done that to you. Sometimes I believe it. Sometimes I want to do the same to them. There’s doubt lingering there. Doubt hammering away at me, taking me piece by piece.

I’m cracking at the damn seams.

Discreetly, I blow out a breath. “Why are you limping?” I blurt before I can stop myself.

Mack’s fingers stop twirling over his temples, and he peeks an eye open, observing me as I cock my head, sweeping my gaze over his face. I probably shouldn’t stare so much or ask stupid questions, but I can’t help it. He and I were once friends. More than friends. And although I’m half in with the “they didn’t kill me” sentiment, I’m still cautious of them. JJ can tell pretty lies if he wants to. Until there’s proof, that is. Then, there’s another mystery of who killed me under Franco’s command, and why?

“Why does it matter to you?” he grits out without heat behind his words, pulling a piece of paper toward him. He examines it with pursed lips and sighs heavily. “Hurt myself at fucking practice. My doctor said I’ll be fine. I’m supposed to stay off it.” My brows furrow as he looks over the piece of paper without glancing at me. “Anyway, I’ve been looking into Ezra Thornton on my own since you decided to hog the fucking evidence folder.” And with that, he scoots the thick folder in front of him and throws it open. “I took the liberty of looking into every-fucking-thing.” He grins, handing me a piece of paper marked with words. “Surprised, Davenport?” he asks almost playfully. Almost sounding like the Mack I knew years before, when he teased me and then kissed me.

My lips pop open as I stare at the autopsy report. It’s the same report the teacher gave us, but it has a more official tone. “Uhhh, no. Not surprised,” I stammer, really proving my point that I’m not surprised by him. Not. “How’d you get all this?”

My guess? JJ lent him his skills to figure this case out so he could get it done as soon as possible.

“Friends in high places,” he retorts quickly, pulling out another piece of paper and looking it over. “Should we wait for you know who before we get into this shit?” He purses his lips, refusing to say his brother’s name.

“Wilder? I mean, we can. But you said you only have forty-five minutes, and this is important. Besides, he said he’d be late…” I trail off when Mack shrugs, getting right into the work.

“I remember this shit like it was yesterday,” Mack says, tapping the papers. “I looked into the location. It’s behind that bar, X Marks the Spot. He was lying in the parking lot behind it like minced meat.” His nose wrinkles, but my heart stops in my chest. “The parking lot doesn’t exist anymore. It’s a grassy lot. Everything about that area has changed since he died. I went and looked.”

Went and looked? I don’t know what surprises me more, the fact that he did extra research or the fact that he went to the bar and looked at the crime scene.

“X Marks the Spot,” I mumble.

Vivid memories of my night there run through my mind. The hookup with Malic. Nick, the bartender, was shady as hell the whole night. Especially when Malic confronted him about Meredith’s disappearance. Nick scurried off somewhere, talking on the phone. Probably in the basement. I wonder if he had anything to do with her death? If the last place she was seen was there, there has to be a connection.

“Yeah, it used to be some sort of medical facility. They got closed down for malpractice bullshit and something about unsanctioned surgeries. The head doctor was Dr. Christopher Chambers. He was butchering patients or something on the side. Or that’s the fucking rumors. Here,” Mack says, pushing a new clipping toward me from the folder he brought with him. “Says they found evidence in the basement of the facility of botched surgeries given for a lower price, but that’s it. It’s never mentioned again. They took him to trial, but it was dismissed, and good old Dr. Chambers left town and never returned.” Mack rolls his eyes.

He knows as well as I do that he didn’t disappear from town for nothing. Maybe dead? Maybe in hiding. Who the fuck knows? This is important information, though.