Orion almost smiled at the cliché. “Drunk?”
Maddox nodded. “Took two people with him.”
“Of course he did.” She shook her head. It wouldn’t be enough just to end his miserable life after ruining hers, her brother’s, her mother’s . . . he had to go out with a bang.
“Your mom, she kind of lost it after that,” Maddox continued. “Then she got sick. Cancer. She passed about a year ago.” He paused, swallowing visibly. Then, it seemed, he found a bit of gusto, and he stood a little straighter.
Orion hated that she reacted to that more than she did at the news she was an orphan.
“And my little brother?”
Adam crossed her mind then. Her sweet, empathetic, kind-hearted little brother. Her only other friend outside of April growing up. He wasn’t here, fighting his way past orderlies or doctors, demanding to see his sister. That told her everything she needed to know about how much he missed her, thought about her, unlike her own constant thoughts and daydreams about the little brother who acted so tough for her when they were kids, even if they wanted to kill each other sometimes.
She wanted to be wrong. She wanted him to be living in Europe, in some mansion, or trekking through the Himalayas, living the kind of life he deserved. He was trying to get a private jet, transportation right to the hospital door. That’s it.
“Maybe we should speak outside,” Maddox said, as if he could see the desperation in her eyes. He had known how close she was to her brother. There was a reason he couldn’t look her in the eyes then, couldn’t say what needed to be said.
Her insides turned to liquid.
“No,” she gritted out. “Just tell me what happened to my little brother.” She sounded strong from here, hopefully hiding the fact she knew her legs wouldn’t hold her up if she tried to move.
Maddox looked uncomfortable, in pain. She wanted to feel sorry for him, but she couldn’t, since discomfort and pain weren’t anything remarkable.
“Spit it out,” she snapped when he was silent a beat too long.
“I tried to help him,” Maddox said, voice a blade, tearing at her skin. “I tried to get him away from the . . . bad influences. Even told him if he straightened up and passed the academy, he could work for the department.” His voice broke. He cleared his throat. His eyes watered.
Hers did not.
“For a while, I thought he was going to make it,” Maddox continued. “But he was just . . . out of control. He stopped checking in. Stopped hanging out. We lost touch.”
Orion’s fingers cut into her palms with the force she was using to keep herself still.
“Is he dead?” she demanded. She didn’t need the fucking narrated version of his descent into the gutter.
Maddox stiffened. “Yeah, Orion . . . he is.”
Orion nodded once, her entire body tingling, then turning blissfully numb. She shouldn’t have let herself hope.
Jaclyn’s hand went to Orion’s, squeezed once before letting go. She had spoken to them about Adam. They had all fantasized about where he might be now. At least she knew where he was. Nowhere. Rotting.
“I’m so sorry, Ri. I really am,” Maddox said, voice almost a whisper.
She stiffened. “Orion.”
He flinched again. Another small score for Orion. “I’m sorry, Orion. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear. I wish I had better news.”
What else could she expect? Her parents to campaign for her safe return? Post on cereal boxes, devote their lives to their missing daughter? Their lives had always been devoted to their own destruction.
And Adam.
Even thinking his name nearly caused her to black out from grief, from not ever getting to say goodbye.
Interrupting the terrible silence, a small woman in a police uniform sporting a mom haircut shuffled in with three bags. Both men turned at her approach, and the three women on the bed stiffened.
“Got everything you asked for,” the woman addressed Maddox as she tossed the bags to the floor and let out a heavy sigh. “Jake’s got the van waiting out back, some undercovers with him. No media out there yet.”
“Great. What about out front?” Maddox asked, retrieving the bags from the floor.
The woman grinned at Maddox as he handed each girl a bag. “What do you think?” she asked in a dry tone.
Maddox smiled, nodded, and then his eyes shifted toward Orion as he handed her the last bag.
“Orion . . .” He trailed off. His eyes turned glassy. The hand holding the bag trembled.
Orion gritted her teeth, taking the bag, and she replied, “It’s alright. I know.”
“You ladies take your time getting dressed and cleaned up, we’ll be down the hall by the main elevators,” Eric said, a safe and practiced smile on his face. It was obvious he was experienced at making victims comfortable. Knew how to make himself smaller. Nonthreatening.