Her eyes widen, and Lindy clears her throat. “No. We don’t.”
It’s an obvious lie, but I refrain from calling her out on it. She’s fidgeting, uncomfortable since the mention of Lana. Craig has already bailed to go tell the others, so I don’t have long to get answers.
Laurel frowns, glancing over at Lindy.
“This man that hurt you…he hurt me too,” I say, establishing a rapport with her, giving her something to bond with me about. It’s hard to detach myself…to not be emotional. But I manage it, because I’ve had years of training.
Laurel reaches over, tugging on my sleeve, and I lean down to let her whisper into my ear. I feel her cup her hands around her mouth, as though she’s ensuring none of her words escape the tunnel from her lips to my ear.
“My angel made sure he’ll never hurt us again,” she says, and a sickly coldness washes over me. “My angel saved me. She’ll always watch over me. She is right now.”
I lean up, letting her words process as Duke barges in. I’m not even sure what’s being said when I finally leave. Logan follows me out, caring too much.
Words fly from my mouth before I can stop them, and I’m sobbing, taking in the weight of my responsibility in all this.
I could have prevented anyone else from getting hurt.
The words spill from my lips like vomit, pouring out everything I’ve had trapped in me since the day I ran away. I’m not even sure what we’re saying to each other; it’s all a blur.
My mind is on auto-pilot, ruled by guilt and self-loathing.
He doesn’t stop me when I finally walk away, but my feet hesitate in front of the breakroom. Lana is casually propped up, watching TV as though she’s the most relaxed person on the face of the earth.
She looks over at me, her body attuned to someone’s attention being trained on her. That’s not an innocent person’s response.
She watches me, a small smirk on her lips, as though she’s daring me to say something here and now.
My angel made sure he’ll never hurt us again. My angel saved me. She’ll always watch over me. She is right now.
Laurel’s words slap me, and I slowly piece things together that don’t really fit. She. Laurel said she.
And she waved at Lana.
There’s no way I’m right.
There’s no way Lana killed and tortured him…I mean…right?
She arches an eyebrow at me, as if challenging me to speak first. If she killed a man and waltzed into this place...she’s a fucking psychopath.
No. I’m just too emotional.
I walk away, ending the staring contest, deciding to get some answers. She came with Logan, so she’ll be here for a while. No way is he leaving until he has answers.
But I plan to get some different answers.
I practically sprint to my car, and I’m on the road when my phone rings with an incoming call from Leonard. I start to not answer, but decide to. I’m sure it’s about the sick son of a bitch I let terrorize innocent children by never looking deeper than the surface once I became an FBI agent.
“What’s going on?” I ask seriously, clearing my throat from the sob that’s on the tip of my tongue.
“Our castrating mutilator killed Ferguson,” he says so calmly.
I almost drop the phone.
“What?” I ask in disbelief.
“He didn’t want us linking it to him, but he left the kid with Lindy May Wheeler, who, surprise surprise, once lived in Delaney Grove.”
“That doesn’t make sense. You guys profiled him to be a sadist, and a sadist wouldn’t—”