Page 104 of The Truths We Burn

He’ll wear that scar forever, a reminder of just how fucking foul he is below the surface. He’ll see it and know there are no more fucking empty threats.

And just like that…

The twitching stops.

Sage

For some reason, I thought when the temperature started to warm up, this place would become less creepy. I think the longer I’m here, the more suspicious it becomes. The creaks in the walls at night, the shadows that seem to appear in the halls when the sun fades—it’s hard not to believe this place is haunted or there are secret passageways leading to some cult meeting room.

I walk through the commons, stepping on the moist manicured lawn where students gather between classes or for lunch. My eyes graze the chopped tree in the center, the one that had been cut down after it had mysteriously caught fire last semester.

Once my feet hit the cobblestone path again, I make my way to the theatre.

The place that at one point felt like home.

My panic attacks had been bad over the last couple of days, my nightmares even worse. Now that I know what it really feels like to drown, my mind is using it against me. Everything feels so much more real now.

It took a minute to face Briar and Lyra, and even though Briar insisted she was fine, that what happened wasn’t my fault, I still feel this heavy pang of guilt in my stomach every time I catch a glimpse of her yellowish bruise.

I’m trying to forget that night altogether, but it doesn’t seem possible.

“Just the girl I was talking about,” I hear as I grab ahold of the building’s door. “Finn, meet Sage Donahue. This is Frank’s daughter. And, Sage this is Finn, my partner.”

Cain walks up next to me, getting closer than I would like him to be. I clutch my script tightly to my body as the man next to him addresses me.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, offering his hand. “I’m sorry to hear of your sister’s passing.”

I take his handshake, curious if like in all crime cop shows he is annoyed being paired with a younger detective. His white mustache brushes the top of his lip, curling as it gets to the edges and reminding me of the peanut man.

He has this sort of worn-down leather presence. Like he’s seen a lot, been through even more, but is still good at what he does. Does he know that his partner is not only dirty and working with a sex ring, but also a pedophile?

Would he still work with him? Is this cop just as crooked as the one standing next to him?

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you,” I say simply, unsure of how much he knows, if he’s involved.

“I’m sure you’re on your way to class, but I wanted to give you my card.” He reaches into the inside of his suit. “In case you hear or see anything that might help us in Greg West’s death and Chris Crawford’s disappearance.”

I take the white rectangle, looking down at the words printed across and biting my bottom lip, trying to keep my thoughts to myself, but I can’t help it.

“Subtle off-white coloring, tastefully thick. It even has a watermark.” I twist the card between my fingers, pocketing it. “Paul Allen would be impressed.”

Finn has a stern exterior, but it breaks as a grin takes over, making him look lessMiami Viceand more like someone’s grandfather.

“American Pyschofan?”

I shake my head. “Movie person. The liberties taken from the novel were necessary, which doesn’t happen often in film adaptations. The satire was beyond its time, a stylized comedy set in the backstabbing, profit-hunting city that is Manhattan.” I swirl my hands around. “And Christian Bale, well, need I say more about his portal of Patrick Bateman?”

“Smart girl.”

I shrug. “Just like movies. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

Lie.

“Thanks, Sage,” he replies.

I look over at Cain, nodding my head in acknowledgment. “Cain.”

“Before you go, Pip.” He grabs my forearm, and my knee-jerk reaction is to pull away, but I stay very still. “Your dad told me you hadn’t called since you started school. I know you’re busy, but he misses you. Check in soon, okay?”