Page 72 of Web of Lies
A shiver runs through me at the thoughts of the two of them—together, with a girl in between them. More specifically, me sandwiched between their hot bodies. Their hands roaming everywhere, grabbing my boobs and ass. Geez, I need to get a grip on myself. Maybe my mind has finally decided they aren’t murderers, so they’re fair game?
“Piper puts on a hell of a show for everyone, but we’ve seen her break down. She went to the hospital for some time to get some help.” We walk through the rest of the maze, Zepp leading the way, and finally make it through the mouth. The rest of the campus is dead. The other students must have settled into their homework or dinner by now. So, it’s just me and Zepp walking down the dimly lit sidewalk, side by side.
“But why? What made her lose it?” I ask, side eyeing Zepp as he rubs the back of his neck.
“Her parent’s divorce. It was shortly after that she learned the truth,” he says cryptically, not giving me any more clues than that. Bastard, I hate fishing.
“And that is?” I ask, trying to push him for information.
His eyes dart around the abandoned space around us, looking around campus with wide eyes. His burning gaze returns to me, leaning in, letting his breath brush against my ear.
“Her father wasn’t her father. That’s why she lost it. Her mom lied to her, her whole life.” I stop dead in my tracks, looking up at him like he just revealed he was the Pope in the flesh.
My jaw hits the floor while my brain scrambles with way too many theories. “Who is her father?”
Zepp sighs at my question, ushering me on toward my apartment building, shaking his head.
“No idea,” Zepp finally says, as we make our way through the dry grass of the cool fall night.
“Any rumors?” I plead, trying to get a lead on something.
That could be the ticket I was looking for. Something real on Piper, because from where I stand. She’s a ghost. No wonder her father—or not father—cut her out of his life like she didn’t matter. In his eyes, they lied to him his entire life.
He sighs. “Absolutely none. They’ve stayed tight-lipped about the whole thing. The only thing I know is, whoever he is, screwed Piper up.” I only nod as we stop outside the entrance to my building.
The moon’s imperfections stare back at me. “So—breakfast tomorrow?” Zepp asks through a small smile.
“Pancakes?” I say, lighting up, folding my hands together.
They don’t compare to my Aunt CeCe’s pancakes. Nothing compares to her homemade cakes. But the small taste I got from the dining hall; they were good. So good. With sprinkles and whipped cream on top—mmm. I’d been scrounging for breakfast since that fateful day they denied me access, and now the gates of heaven opened for me in the form of food. Delicious food. Yum.
“Pancakes it is. Come to the house. I’ll bring it there. Since we don’t have to keep guard anymore, uh—be careful. I don’t want anyone to see you coming and going. They might get the wrong idea.” I nod at his statement. “And—uh, please be safe.” He adds, dipping his head again, his face turning deadly serious at the thought of my safety.
“Of course,” I say with a sigh.
I have to be careful with whatever I do, because the other students are out for my blood. And I can’t drag the others down with me. I’m thankful that from here on out, I have two allies who will help me search for a killer, and I can officially cross them off my list of suspects. Them and Chase, although he hasn’t been present as of late. So, what is Ainsley’s actual role in all this? Maybe she was a loyal friend to Magnolia.
“Here,” Zepp says, handing me the little jar of cream he used earlier. “For your,” he points to under my eyes where the bruises pulse with pain.
A smile crosses my lips at the concern in his eyes as he examines the damage on my face again—his finger ghosts over the carnage with a sigh. We wave goodbye until the darkness swallows his form.
Filing up the stairs at a tiring rate, I make my way towards my apartment. Since the bullying started, I’ve been avoiding the elevators. Kids are mean and all and might make me plummet to my death or duct tape me to the walls. You know — bullying crap I’d rather avoid. This entire day has been draining to my mind, body, and mostly on my shattered soul. From the assault on my face to finally opening up to someone about Magnolia, I’m spent—wholly and utterly spent. If the rest of the night consisted of nothing but a hot bath and hot cocoa, I wouldn’t complain.
Tension strains my muscles as I unlock my front door and step inside. As soon as I step over the threshold, the tension bleeds out with my sigh of relief. My sanctuary. My paradise. Home. Peering around my space, I inspect every corner, like I do every time I come back here, and nothing is amiss. The distinct sound of a picture-snapping is music to my ears, as my computers capture every ounce of movement when I’m gone and when I come back. A smile spreads across my lips. The simple security measure makes me feel ten times better about leaving this place. No one will ever sneak in here again undocumented.
I set my backpack down on my bed and sit in my computer chair. The camera from my ceiling blinks on my desk, staring back at me, and I realize I never had time to look at it again after class. Tracing it back to its original address was completed while I was away. Excitement thrums through my veins as I check the trace. It’s the last step in my long battle of finding its owner. Leaning into my computer screen, my heart pounds against my ribs. And finally, all of Tristan’s advice pays off.
44 Rosebud Drive, East Point Bluff, California.
I snort, taking out my phone, realizing I have a missed text from Tristan.
Tristan:
Met the woman of my dreams today. You have some competition now.
Me:
Snort. Oh, lord. I feel bad for her.
