Page 43 of Hate So Deep (Hate #4)

NOW

Lauren

Yesterday my dad told me the police needed another interview, and this inspired him to hire some big shot lawyer, who’s meeting us at the station.

This should bring me comfort, but I know Aimee is still missing and until that poor girl is brought home, none of this is going to go away.

Unfortunately, we find out as soon as we get to the station that our visit isn’t as innocent as a simple questioning.

Nope, after searching my home, they found what they suspect might be blood in my room.

I guess the blood from that fucking shirt transferred to the bed, either that or I fought with Aimee there because DNA testing confirmed it was hers.

I can tell by the surprise on my dad’s face that Mom never mentioned any of this and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she can’t face her own delusions anymore.

Buck was not a nice guy. In fact, he was a complete asshole, but did he hurt Aimee or did I? And why did Buck end up at some vacant lot where he was beaten to death?

Where the fuck is Aimee?

“Miss Stark,” the detective says, his gaze moving between me and my lawyer.

Dad was banned from the room, and I guess they can do that now that I’m eighteen.

“We need to know why Aimee’s blood was found in your room.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I don’t know when my lawyer raises his hand and says, “Don’t answer that.”

The detective frowns and splays his hands. “Look, I don’t think you’re a killer, Miss Stark but shit don’t add up and there’s a girl out there somewhere that wants to go home.”

Judging by the blood soaked into my shirt, I’m not sure she is alive, but I can’t exactly say that without admitting that Dirk disposed of the evidence.

Dirk. Is he still in town?

I haven’t heard from him. Does this mean he’s gone, or…?

“This is serious,” the detective says, slamming his hand against the table.

Flinching, I bow my head but when I don’t respond he continues, “What happened to your face? Why don’t we start there?”

“I think we’re done here,” my lawyer says. “Unless you plan to charge her?”

I hold my breath while the detective drills me with his stare before he waves his hand. “Not yet. You think long and hard about what I said, Miss Stark. That girl needs to be brought home.”

Nodding, I follow my lawyer out to the lobby where my dad is pacing. As soon as he sees me, he says, “Thank god. Are you okay?”

I’m not. I don't think anything about this situation qualifies as okay but thankfully my lawyer interjects to say, “It’s only a matter of time before they arrest her, Trent. We need to be proactive about this. Can you bring her to my office tomorrow?”

After making arrangements for the following day, we head to the car.

My bones creak as I get in beside Dad and he backs from the space. The ride home is quiet while I stare at the passing scenery in a daze, the only sound, Dad’s fingers as he taps the steering wheel.

When we pull into the drive, he puts the car in park and says, “Just tell me this, Lala. Did you kill that girl?”

Swallowing, I turn to him and say, “I don’t know.”

Later when I wake, I roll over and stare at the ceiling, once again pondering everything that’s happened until Dirk says beside me, “Are you okay, baby girl?”

As soon as I hear his voice, tears fill my eyes, and I turn into his embrace. I can’t speak for the sobs ripping from my throat but through it all, he holds me, his fingers stroking down my back.

When I eventually calm, he tips my head and kisses my nose before saying, “I’m sorry. I came as soon as I heard.”

“Where did you go?” I whisper, glad to be speaking about anything but the mess I’ve gotten myself into.

“I had to take care of a few things,” he says.

“What kind of things?” I ask, holding my breath.

Will he include me in this part of his world? I so desperately want to understand the man he is, but he’s adept at shutting me out.

To my relief, he finally shrugs and says, “I had to deal with my father.”

Deal?

“What does that mean?” I ask and his brows furrow.

“With my father it’s all a game. We’re like pawns on a chessboard.”

“And?” I whisper, running my fingers over the stubble on his chin until he grabs my hand and kisses the palm.

With a shiver, I lean away as he says, “It’s hard to explain but we made a deal, and I had to change the terms. He’s not happy but he’ll live.”

Although I sense a heaviness to his words, he’s giving nothing away as usual. I get it but it’s hard not to pry.

Who is he really?

“Hey,” he says, touching my cheek. “Are you okay?”

Avoiding his gaze because I don’t want him to see my disappointment, I mumble, “I’m fine.”

How can he expect me to open up my soul to him when he won’t let me past the barriers of his own?

An awkward silence falls between us after that and when I go to slide off his lap, he grips my hips and says, “My father only cares about money. How he can get it. How he can keep it and use it. It’s…

a sickness for him. When I was six years old, we got in a car accident, and he made up a bunch of bullshit about whiplash and shit to sue the other driver's insurance company, forcing me to do a bunch of meaningless tests and lie about my injuries.”

With a slow blink, those deep, dark eyes meet mine once again and he says, “He used to beat on my mom. It was bad. One day, she just took off…left. Six months later, I came home and found her begging for a little money so she could take us and go somewhere else. He agreed but only if she would fuck him first. After…he gave her money but refused to let us go.”

“So, she left you behind?” I whisper, images of a towheaded little boy with wide brown eyes witnessing shit that surely broke his heart.

Did he cry when his mom walked away? Does he hate his father for hurting his mother?

“She didn’t have a choice,” he says with a shrug. “I have a sister, who was born nine months after that. My mom found some other asshole to take care of her but the math don’t add up and someday my asshole father will use that against her too.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and although his expression doesn’t change, his fingers tighten around my thighs.

With my own shit going on, I never truly considered Dirk’s world, but he told me before that he’s fighting for his life and now I wonder what that truly means.

“And your father?” I ask, leaning against his chest. “Did you deal with…whatever?”

“Yeah,” he says on a sigh. “Now, tell me. Are you, okay?”

Story time is over I suppose and moving back to the events of the past few days, I close my eyes and mumble, “I’m in so much trouble.”

“I know, baby girl. I know.”

“They found blood in my room. That shirt…it’s her blood.”

“Aimee’s?” he asks, and I nod. “The police found more in the fabric of my bed.”

He stares over my shoulder, his brows furrowed until I whisper, “The blood was on me. In my room. I…”

Covering my mouth, I shake my head, and he grabs my cheeks. “You did not kill that girl, Lauren.”

“Then who did?”

“Probably your fucking brother.”

It’s not a surprising statement because at this point, I wouldn’t have put anything past my brother, but he wasn't at the house. He was murdered somewhere else.

“You texted your brother that night and he responded but it was deleted. Right?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“When was the last time you texted your brother, baby girl?”

It’s a valid question. Buck didn’t care about me and even if I felt as though I was in a dangerous situation, he’s the last person I would reach out to.

“What if he texted you ?” Dirk asks. “What if he was trying to find you and bring you home?”

“But why?” I ask and he averts his gaze.

“Dirk?”

When I touch his arm, he looks down at my fingers before saying, “If he knew he couldn’t erase her being there, what’s the next best thing?”

What?

Shaking my head, I lean away but he grabs my hand and says, “Find someone else to blame it on.”

What is he saying ?

Dirk

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she has to see reality eventually. Her brother was a messed up human being who had no care for anyone but himself and the more I learn about Sheila Stark, the more I suspect Buck learned all his filthy ways from his mother.

I’ve been racking my brain for weeks and the only conclusion that makes sense is that Buck came for Lauren because he knew he couldn’t deny Aimee’s whereabouts the night he did whatever and who better to blame but his sister living under the same roof.

Did he drug her too?

It makes sense and maybe if I hadn’t barged in and took her away this would have ended differently although I think I drove her home to her doom.

Where was their bitch mother while all this was taking place because something stinks and it’s not Buck’s overpriced cologne.

How does this lead back to his attack though? What did these fuckers have to gain by hurting Lauren?

She’s not a threat. As far as I understand, she hasn’t really found out much beyond that Buck was at Gage’s house that night.

That’s it.

Unless you consider the date rape drugs that Buck bought however, if he got those from Gage, and much as I hate that little fucker, I don’t think it was him who sent guys to beat up Lauren, then who else is there?

I did confirm that Aimee was not at Gage’s house the same time Buck was, which furthers the mystery because he left her wherever she was to make the exchange.

No one saw Aimee again that night, whereas Buck made an appearance at two other places before ending up at the warehouse where he was beaten basically to death.

As the pieces slowly come together, though, it's becoming more and more obvious that what really happened that night can be directly linked to Buck.

The mystery remains of why he left the house again if he was the one that did something to Aimee.

However, if my suspicions are correct, it makes sense to go and find your sister and bring her home. This would also have given him an alibi I suppose, except if he was seen bringing his sister home that doesn’t make sense either.

I know we’re close to finding the answer. We just need the key, and unfortunately half of that key is now dead.

The blood doesn’t lie, and the amount found on that fucking shirt is definitely a death sentence.

I regret not taking that rug out of the house after we found it, but my hope was and continues to be that the evidence will eventually point away from Lauren.

Unfortunately, the only witness left is her, and she was either drugged and out of it or drunk and out of it because she doesn’t remember a goddamn thing.

Now what? Because the further into this mess we go, the harder it is to find a way out of it.