Page 44 of Flame
I suck in a breath to disguise my unease. Just how many lies is Branden spinning about me?
“I tried to check on you at the bookstore,” Liam adds. “Luckily, I happened to see you walk this way. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I try to pull away, but he’s persistent, trailing his thumb beneath my injured eye.
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he admits. “I’m not an idiot, Hannah. These days you look like you’re haunted. I’ve been worried about you. If you tell me what’s wrong, I can—”
“I’m fine,” I insist more forcefully this time. “I promise. Thank you for worrying, but you don’t have to. But… Maybe you can help me with something else.”
Rafe’s suspicions keep bouncing around in my head. Now seems like as good a time as any to get some answers.
“What?” Liam asks.
For a second, I toy with the idea of how to spin the question as sneakily as possible. How to lie. Deceive. In the end, I come to the honest truth—there is no other way to put it than bluntly. “What do you know about the Wen murder case?”
His brow furrows as his thumb stills near the corner of my mouth. “Not much,” he admits. “It’s considered high profile due to all the exposure. Most of what I know is just gossip.”
But his eyes flicker away from mine, suddenly evasive.
“I heard there might be other girls who have gone missing,” I say, trying a different tack. “And Faith worked at this club. I think it’s called Stella’s. Do the police know anything about—”
“Stella’s?” His tone is a fraction harder. Definitely more suspicious than shocked. Slowly, he withdraws his hand from my face, letting it fall to his side. “Hannah, what is this about?”
“One of my friends knew Faith,” I say, which isn’t technically a lie, and I allow my real desperation to leech into my voice, strengthening the claim. “I want to give her whatever comfort I can regarding the investigation. Is there anything at all you can tell me? Even something small. Please.”
He sighs and shoots a glance over his shoulder before leaning in toward me.
“Well…I know they have one suspect,” he admits. “I don’t know who exactly. Just that he sent the last known message to her phone.”
I feel my eyes widen as I recall what the officer told Rafe the other day. “I thought they couldn’t find her phone?”
“They’re keeping it hush for now,” he says, stiffening as a group of people walk by, none of whom seem interested in our conversation. Stepping closer to me, he adds, “Her phone was wiped. They were able to pull some of her texts via her cloud, but not everything. Some of it was encrypted, I think. They also questioned one of her friends. A Lylah, something, about some guy who might have been giving her trouble.”
It takes everything I have to keep any ounce of recognition from my face. Lylah. Was she the same girl Rafe and I talked to? If so, the police could know all about the mysterious DW. “What did she say?”
Liam shakes his head. “Look, I shouldn’t even be telling you this stuff. Now you tellmesomething. What happened to you?”
I force another quick smile and pivot on my heel toward the café. “It’s nothing. I should really get going—”
“Then let me ask you about something else,” Liam says. “I googled her. That girl you told me about. Lexi Winacott.”
My feet stop listening to my brain, and I nearly trip before stopping short entirely. “You what?”
I sense his steps approach before his hand settles over my shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Hannah. I’m so sorry. If you need to talk about it, I’m here. I mean that. About you. About Branden... About anything. I’m not saying this out of duty, either. I care about you—”
“Branden,” I rasp, whirling around to face him. “Did you tell him? About Lexi? Did you?”
He tilts his jaw, his eyes unreadable. “No. Should I?” He scans my face as if hunting for a certain reaction. Whatever he finds makes him ask in a softer tone, “Has he told you what’s been going on with him lately? I know it’s none of my business, but…”
“What do you mean?” Dread builds in my stomach, impossible to hide any longer. Licking my lips, I once again aim for the truth. “About his suspension?”
From the way he purses his lips, he looks almost…relieved. “He told you then,” he says with a sharp nod. “He made me swear not to say anything, but I’ve been worried about him lately—what’s wrong?”
I can only imagine how I must look.
Horrified?
Behind Liam, a living shadow darts from across the street, heading straight for us. My brain identifies him instantly, but I’m nowhere near fast enough to head him off.
