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“There was that tree, that big oak where we used to gather after school,” he says quietly. “Tyrell would sit on the bench and watch me. He had dark hair, like me, a sort of fauxhawk, when I first met him. Then he stopped bothering. He also stopped talking. He didn’t talk. He never fucking talked.”
He’s breathing hard again, and Dakota gives me a wild-eyed look.
I open my mouth to tell him it’s okay, that I’m sorry I asked, but he gives me no chance.
“He’d been living with Ken before I arrived, same as a few other kids. All boys. And one day…” He swallows hard, sucks on the barbell in his tongue. “One day he just vanished. Gone in fucking smoke. Ken said he’d gone back to his biological family, but the other boys told me he’d never known his real parents.”
I don’t even know what to make of that. Who knows if this Ken was right and the boys just didn’t know any better. “I’m sorry.”
“The house…” Zane frowns, the silver hoops in his eyebrow glinting. “It was white. Double garage in the front, tiled roof, blue door and… a brass knocker. I think. It was shaped like a lion’s head.”
A beat of silence. Hot. Heavy.
“Ash said the house you saw in Wausau was red,” Audrey says.
“The red house belonged to an old woman. Or she was staying there anyway. We often gathered outside her house, and she used to yell at us to get off her lawn.” He tightens his hold on Dakota. “I never lived there.”
Audrey gives me a worried glance. “Tell us about the white house,” she whispers. “Anything else—the house number, the street? Any other characteristic?”
“Can’t…” He shakes his head, then hisses. “The attic. The dresser.”
Dakota had thought he’d been talking about a dress. But it was a dresser. “What about it?”
“He kept the knives there. In the drawers.” He’s shivering hard now, his eyes losing focus again. “The knives.”
Crap. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper as I get up. I wish I could apologize on behalf of the whole damn world to him. “We’ll leave you guys to rest. Stay as long as you need.”
Dakota meets my gaze and mouths, “Thank you.”
Not sure what for. Putting Zane through more torture? My heart is heavy like a stone in my chest.
But at least now we know what the house looks like, and that the attic is important. A kid went missing, this Tyrell, and who knows? Maybe we can finally solve his mystery and lay Zane’s demons to rest.
***
“Anyone still thinking he made all this up?” Asher mutters, after hearing what Zane told us.
Tyler slaps him in the chest, face pinched. “Stop being a fucking drama queen, Ash. We’re still looking into this. And don’t you even think about saying I told you so.”
“So you believe him now?”
Tyler shrugs. “Let’s just say I’m leaning toward believing he’s right.”
“Leaning?” Asher mutters. “Leaning? Fuck that.”
Tyler lifts a brow. “It’s good info the girls got out of him. Convincing.”
“And I told you he’d open up to the girls, didn’t I?” Asher goes on, ducking a mock-punch from his brother. “But you didn’t wanna hear. Asshole.”
“Kiss my ass, baby bro. You were in doubt like all of us, and don’t you fucking deny it.”
“The kids are here,” Erin says, though she’s obviously trying not to snicker. “Language, guys.”
“If you boys are quite done measuring dicks and calling each other names…” I roll my eyes, then yelp when Dylan comes up from behind and grabs my hips, pulling me flush against him, my back to his chest. “Whoa.”
“Missed you.” His warm breath blows down my neck and I shiver pleasantly. “I can’t fucking stand fighting with you. I’m sorry I was an ass.”
“Wasn’t just you,” I whisper back, swallowing a moan. “I’m sorry, too.”
