Page 58 of Web of Lies
Omega:
Yes, Alpha
Delta:
Yes, Alpha.
Alpha:
I have informed the sheep of their duties. You, my most trusted, are to remember your duties. You are the wolves, they are the sheep, and our target is the rabbit. Make the rabbit bleed.
If I were in a movie, there would be some awful, ominous music going on right about now. The camera would pan in and out on my horrified expression, coming in from different angles, turning my face into some rainbows with darkness behind my head for dramatic effects.
My tongue dries like I’ve walked through the desert for forty days. A sharp pain curls inside my chest, sending my heart into a frantic drumbeat. Make… the rabbit bleed? If they’re the wolves who prowl the schoolyard and the rest of the student body is the sheep following them blindly into battle, then that makes me the most sought-after creature on campus—the rabbit. The twitchy little bun-bun hopping around in the grass with innocents before the wolf snatches me by the fur, bleeding me dry.
With my eyes closed, I count to one hundred in my head repeatedly. I will not give up on my mission. I will not back down. Never. Ever. Magnolia deserves this justice. If I have to stand on the edge of the cliff, cut myself open, and bleed for her, I will. For justice. For retribution against these savages, who caused her death.
Forgoing my plan of breaking and entering, I hole up in my apartment. My B and E can wait until later. My fingers sweep over the keyboard in swift, relentless strokes—every name. I trace every person in the chat. But much like Alpha, they’re all pinned back to the same damn person. The Apocalypse. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Even Carter. It’s like they aren’t a seven-person cult but one entity altogether.
My fingers glide against my forehead, frustrations mounting at the lack of anything. I may have cracked and mirrored Carter’s phone, but what good is it doing me? I know they’re going to up their games now. To what extent, though? They’ve already killed once. Will they kill me too? God, I hope not.
After checking the status of the camera trace, I go back to something more accessible. Something less frustrating than the nothingness of the Apocalypse crew and their untraceable asses. I wish my questions didn’t piss off Carter so much because I have a million more for him.
Piper’s outbursts have been in the back of my mind for days. She goes from this sweet girl with odd sayings to a complete emotionless mess, with threats that could knock a weaker person down. There’s this strange look in her eye that could send a grown man to his knees. There’s something about her, not to mention Ainsley’s words about her mental breakdown two years ago. I’m desperate for more information. If I can manage to hack into her medical files, I’ll get the answers I need. The keyword being IF I can. Medical files are tricky and require a little more effort on my part. So, I’ll start from the beginning, and dig into her family background.
Bingo. Two years ago, Thomas Lee Hurst filed for an emergency divorce proceeding, citing an unfaithful partner. In a matter of 30 days, they had their day in court. The judge, Forrest Cain, ruled in Thomas’s favor, stripping his former wife of anything and everything associated with their marriage. Which included the fortune Thomas had gathered during their eighteen years together in matrimony. Francesca got nothing. Not a dime. Not a penny. Not even a car. He took everything as his and moved across the country to New York. Leaving his former family penniless, homeless, and lost.
Wow, what a dick.
But from there, the paper trail turns cold. Nowhere in my data does it show Francesca married Carter’s father. Nor does it state anything about Piper. Nothing about her at all. There’s no custody agreement. For lack of better words, it’s like she doesn’t exist. They had her together. She is Thomas’s child. So why is her name absent from all the formal paperwork?
These people get more and more complicated by the day. Here I thought looking in-depth at Piper’s family would be the easiest thing I’ve done all day.
I dig deeper into her parents. They met young, near Christmas, and welcomed Piper quickly into their family by Thanksgiving of the following year. Less than a year together, and they already had a child, the only one the pair would ever have. No wonder it didn’t work out. They barely knew each other, had a baby, got married, and the rest was history.
Until it was over, that is. According to the report, her mother got nothing. How much of a pull did this judge Cain have with Hurst? Her father is a shady guy. Never as squeaky clean as Piper likes to say. He could have sex parties, and her mother cheated, and that was grounds for a divorce? It all didn’t add up. What was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back?
“Ugh,” I cry out like Charlie Brown, throwing my forehead against the desk. Every answer I need leads me back to one very violent offender, Carter. He’d know all about her.
Veering away from her family history, I go in search of her medical history. Two years ago, her parents divorced. And according to Ainsley, two years ago, Piper had a mental break, hospitalizing her for who knows how long. I search through every patient portal I can think of, but Piper doesn’t exist there either. She’s a friggin ghost! Why doesn’t her name appear anywhere?
I move on again to her student records. Maybe the nurse has some notes I can go off of, sending me in the right direction.
Tristan:
How’s the trace?
Me:
Still working on it.
Piper’s student records show nothing of significance. The nurse’s notes are vague, jotted down lines. “Doing better today.” “Feeling good on new medications.” Simple phrases like that. Even the counselor they forced her to see for a few months noted Piper as a respectable pleasure to be around, who showed no outward signs of previous symptoms. I even went as far as checking her damn birth certificate. Piper Francesca Hurst, born November 29th, 7 pounds 5 ounces. A perfect bundle for a perfect girl. Mother and baby, perfect in every way possible.
There has to be something I’m missing or not seeing.
I close it all up. I could research her until I’m blue in the face, and I’d still sit here. Useless.
My computer pings, showing a new message on Carter’s phone.
