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A little line creases between her brows. I want to run my thumb across it until it’s smooth.
“I need a list of anyone you know, anyone you talk to, however casually, even if you think it completely unimportant.”
She straightens. “Why do I owe you anything?”
That pride of hers. “That bastard has videos of everything you’ve ever done in your room. He’s a danger to you.”
“So, what, he knows I sleep with socks on?”She snorts. “I haven’t done anything embarrassing he can use.”
I roll my eyes. “How many times did you get undressed in your room? How often do you touch yourself?”
“I don’t,” she shoots back immediately.
She truly is a good actress. That can’t possibly be true.
I try another angle to get the reality down in her thick skull. “Stalkers like this eventually escalate things. He’ll want more of you. You’re not safe.”
“What makes you think it’s ahe?”
This woman would argue the color of the sky just to win, wouldn’t she?
“They,” I amend. “They’re gonna eventually escalate, and likely kill you before peeling your skin and wearing it. Happy?”
She compresses her lips and shuts the door.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Sarah grumbles. “I’m a normal person. I don’t know many people, and interact with less. I hang out with Vi the most; Rhys and Rom by extension. Riley, too—until recently. Dez, mostly at the cafe. That’s about it.”
I wrinkle my nose. I could be wrong, I suppose, but my instincts tell me to look outside of the Heritage; we have too much cash to risk so much for a meager paycheck. Someone could do it out of boredom and perversity, but it doesn’t feel like the kind of stunt one of us would pull.
“And outside of our group?” I push.
“I’ve only been here for four months,” she snaps defensively. “I study and I work, that’s it.”
That goes with what I’ve observed, which is a mystery in itself.Whydoesn’t she do anything but study and work? She’s nineteen. She has plenty of friends, all of whom likely ask her to join them.
“Be that as it may, someone wants to hurt you, Sarah. You know that’s where it’s going to lead, don’t you?”
I don’t miss the fear flashing through her eyes. She has the sense to be afraid. Just not of me.
At my prompting, she lists all her fellow employees. I don’t ask for her class schedule as I already have it, along with all the surface information my investigator could get.It paints a vague sketch of Sarah, but I’m missing the details needed to complete the picture.
“How about before Rothford? In your various schools, in foster homes? Tell me everything.”
She shakes her head. “Look, no one other than Brandon would do that sort of thing.”
She’s so frustrating.
“Tell me.”
“No,” she snaps, her voice rising.
What the hell does she have to hide?
“Do I need to tie you to a chair again? Trust me when I say it’d be my distinctive pleasure.”
She gives me her middle finger, sassy as ever.
But then she starts to talk. And talk. And talk.
