All the Lies (Page 9)
Have I mentioned I hate nosy people?
“I told him the important parts. Not everyone enjoys talking about the past,” I say with another shrug. “I’ve told him more than anyone in years. But he doesn’t push for more than I give. It’s one of the things I love about him.”
We stare each other for several uncomfortable minutes. I’m not sure what he’s trying to see.
“Hey.” Logan’s voice has us both jerking our heads to the bedroom doorway where he’s shirtless and moving toward me. His eyes flick to Leonard. “Anything happen while we were out?”
Leonard shakes his head. “All was ghost-town quiet. The sheriff is standing by his promise that Hollis was a bad seed who acted alone, and that he has no idea what set him off. Johnson says he’s already vetted the rest of the guys, ensuring us none of them are hostile toward our team.” Leonard rolls his eyes.
“Amazing. He managed to vet over twenty other deputies since last night, not to mention an extra five police officers,” Logan says with no emotion, but a definite suspicious lilt.
“This is the most fucked up shit I’ve been involved in,” Leonard says, his jaw ticking.
“Leave Donny with Lisa today. You ride with me. I’m going to go find Carl Burrows today and get some answers about Robert Evans.”
The glass in my hand almost slips, and I curse as coffee sloshes over, scalding my fingers.
Logan grabs some paper towels, and he brings my wounded hand to his face, inspecting it. I feel Leonard’s eyes on us, but I ignore it. I don’t know or care what his defect is.
Discreetly, I fire off a quick text to Jake—one-handed and without looking at my phone.
My heart almost thudded out of my chest as I raced through the town last night, running faster than I ever have. When I saw Hollis training Logan’s own gun on him, something inside me snapped. The killer came out and reveled in spilling his blood even more than I enjoyed killing Lawrence and Tyler.
If Logan hadn’t been hurt, I would have dragged the kill out for days.
“Haunted House is tonight in town,” Leonard says randomly as Logan kisses my fingers where the coffee burn has already ebbed.
“And?” Logan asks, looking over.
“And Kyle Davenport will be there. Says he ‘ain’t missing the only good thing in this fucking town because of some cowardly piece of shit killer.’ His words.”
Leonard shrugs, his eyes now not on me for a change.
I knew Kyle wouldn’t miss the Haunted House. He always takes a girl in there—whether she wants to be there or not—and fucks her in a corner to the sound of screams that get him off.
He’s sick like that. It’s one of the things that should have given him away long ago, but I didn’t see it until it was too late and I was a victim. People just walk by him while he’s hurting someone, thinking it’s all part of the ‘adult’ show of the Haunted House. It’s the ‘Sin House’ after all. It’s set up to show all the sins in the dark, demented world just outside the lines of Delaney Grove.
They condition kids to be afraid of leaving early on. The adult house is for sixteen and older, terrifying the impressionable minds from early on isn’t enough. They need to get the rebellious teens submitting to the terror tenfold, upping the Haunted House to be over-the-top. Rape scenes are even played out. Sometimes they were real.
Lindy was raped in the Haunted House.
Speaking of Lindy, Antonio is already bankrupt, which was faster than promised. She’ll be happy to know he’s currently losing all his possessions. His car was taken away just yesterday. I got to watch it live on my phone.
The man who called his wife a whore, even though he knew all Kyle was saying was a lie, is finally getting his piece of justice pie. He just wanted to continue to be a ‘highly respected’ patron of this town, and he cast his wife aside to suffer alone.
Now it’s just a waiting game of making his life miserable enough to kill himself.
“He’s a stupid fuck,” Logan mumbles, running his lips over my forehead. It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about Kyle.
“I agree. But the sheriff is sending four deputies with him. Just letting you know,” Leonard says, but his eyes shift to me for an eerily long second.
I ignore his eyes like I have all morning.
Four deputies? Only two will go in with him. Those can be easily dispatched—well, as long as those two are on my kill list. So far, there’s only one deputy who is innocent of the crimes committed ten years ago, and then the two dispatch officers.
The other two deputies will be outside, watching for any suspicious man. They’ll never know.
“Grab some sleep. We’ll go see Carl when you’ve had some rest,” Logan tells Leonard, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“I’ll only need about three hours,” Leonard grunts as he stands.
While he’s leaving us, I study Logan’s temple where he has four stitches.
Logan doesn’t say anything else before his lips come down on mine, surprising me with an intense, deep, bone-crumbling kiss. I lean into him as he lifts me up, putting me on the counter. When he steps in between my legs, I spread them wider in invitation.
Someone knocks on the door, and our kiss is broken, leaving both of us panting as I put my forehead on his chest.
“Yeah?” Logan calls out, staying put where he is.
“Just making sure you’re okay,” Lisa says through the door. “I have coffee if you want to unlock the door.”
She really wants to be cut.
“I’ve got coffee, and I’m fine. Thanks,” Logan says shortly before kissing me again, pulling me to him by my hips.
I break the kiss as Lisa knocks again, but I ignore her calling his name.
“Are you really okay?” I ask him, ignoring the pang of panic for how close I was to being too late.
“Yes,” he says softly, brushing his lips over mine. “Go away, Lisa,” he adds louder.
She huffs loud enough to be heard, but Logan lifts me, carrying me to the bedroom again. Our room is right beside where Leonard is trying to sleep, so I aim for quiet when Logan puts me down on the bed.
I hiss out a breath when he starts tugging my shorts off me.
“Already snoring by now. He sleeps like the dead, and won’t hear a thing.”
I grin against his lips when he kisses me again, and my shorts fall off my legs. I keep kissing him even as he basically tears my panties away. And our lips remain fused together when he finally thrusts in, taking me slowly, longingly, and reminding me how much I love him.
“I love you,” I whisper into the air so quietly that I don’t think he hears it.
I just hope our love is truly strong enough to conquer all.
Sweaty and breathless, he thrusts in over and over, and I claw his skin, holding onto him, needing every second of closeness I can drag out. Our lips clash, unable to find a rhythm for a smooth kiss, and he pumps his hips harder, hitting that spot inside me that sends me spiraling and has me calling out his name.
When his hips still, he nuzzles the side of my face, shuddering as he finds his own release.
“I love everything about you,” he says softly, brushing his lips over my jaw.
Grinning, I hurry to the bathroom to clean up, and he slaps my ass on my way. I’m slowly calming down now that he seems okay.
As I exit the bathroom, the faint music of a familiar song and the distinct voice of a too familiar woman hits me like a ton of bricks.
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word. Momma’s gonna buy you a mocking bird.
I turn the corner, looking in on the living room as Logan studies the TV, and tears fill my eyes as my heart plummets to my toes. My mother’s smiling face is on the screen. She’s happy, oblivious to the harsh future ahead.
I remember this night so clearly. She died before she could see how bad this town got.
And if that mocking bird don’t sing, Momma’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.
She pulls out a gaudy piece of costume jewelry that resembles a diamond ring, and hands it to the young girl at her side. The young girl with bright green eyes and a little tremor in her hand, because she’s on stage and scared. But the girl’s mother soothes her, cupping her chin, making the child focus only on her and not the audience.
And if that diamond ring don’t shine—
The video pauses, and my heart stutters in my chest as Logan swings his gaze to me.
“You okay?” he asks, studying me with a frown.
Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah,” I say hoarsely, hearing the strain in my tone. “Who’s that?”
I point to the frozen screen with my mother’s smiling face.
“Jasmine Evans. I’m trying to see anyone in the audience who might have been more enamored than anyone else, since the unsub is using this night to terrorize the town.”
He looks back at the screen, presses play, and I watch my mother sing to the young, innocent child I used to be. I’m smiling up at her on the screen now, no longer aware of all the eyes from the audience. She could do that—soothe me with just her eyes.
A tear trickles down my cheek when she bends, kissing my forehead in the old film. She was the best at this role. It was the same play every year, and my mother spent three of those years on that stage because people were entranced by her voice and emotion.