Page 86 of Forged in Rain

I haven’t heard from Hate, but I can’t imagine that going on for much longer. Although I’m completely numb, I’m also waiting on tenterhooks for the next step. Something has to give.

I just don’t know if it’s going to be John, Pam, or McCafferty.

Last night, I searched the house. Pam’s out of town, and Iris went out. It took hours, but I went through every room, including Pam’s bedroom, and found nothing other than a stack of family photos. I’m empty handed.

Wherever John had those pictures, it wasn’t here. Does Pam know about John’s proclivities, or were his actions the icing on the fucked-up cake?

It’s Saturday, and I’m sitting on my bed staring into nothing when Iris passes by my door. When I don’t hear the rumble of her engine, I cock my head to the side.

Iris is like a tornado. She’s not quiet—ever. So why is it so quiet now?

Tiptoeing down the stairs, I walk through the den and into the kitchen, both dark, pausing when I see a flash of light in the backyard.

Backing away from the window, I creep through the garage and out the side door. As silently as possible, I round the house and come upon Iris sitting in the dirt behind the shed. Her head is bowed, and a shovel lies beside her.

There’s a hole in the ground, but it’s too dark to see what’s inside. She looks so defeated, though, that I can’t back away now even though a part of me doesn’t want to know what’s next in her fucked-up story.

“What are you doing?”

“Fuck,” she gasps, jumping and spinning around. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Iris, what are you doing?”

She cocks her head, but I can’t see her expression. The flashlight, lying on the ground, shines on the wall, leaving everything else in shadow.

“Well?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What do you want?” she mutters, standing and brushing off her pants.

“I want to know what you’re doing in the yard beside a damn hole. Wait.” My eyes grow wide. “That’s not John, is it?” I back away with a roiling stomach, pausing when she laughs.

“Don’t be stupid. He’s not buried in the yard.”

“Then what?”

“Rain . . .”

“Iris, just fucking tell me.”

“Fine. I was looking for the pictures,” she grumbles, grabbing the shovel and pushing the dirt back into the hole.

Snorting, I say, “Buried in dirt?”

She drops the shovel and gets in my face, but I merely raise my chin and clench my fists.

“Yes, Rain. You think he’d have the pictures just lying around for my mother to find?”

“You mean she doesn’t know?” I sneer.

She staggers back, the whites of her eyes flashing, and I sigh, dropping my head. “She’s a part of this, Iris.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“But what? How could she not have known? Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms. “Tell you what? You’re too close to her damn lackeys. Nobody was supposed to know.”

“If that’s the case, why were you with Bastion?”

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