Page 100 of Web of Lies

“Fuck,” Seger groans. “That’s Cushing Cunningham, you know, Cruel’s dad.” He spits like it hurts him to say it.

I swallow hard because if Cruel’s dad is in with the corrupt men, what’s that say about Cruel? “Of course,” I whisper hoarsely. “But why…. what does he have to do with them?” I researched Carter, his family, everything about him. Magnolia pointed the finger at him. So, I had to look. So why is my research turning up loose ends like this? Piper’s mother married his father… And that wasn’t in there. Even now, there’s no record. Nothing. Everything these days is on the internet, but these people? Not a trace. It’s like they don’t exist.

I rub a hand on my forehead, trying to come up with a solution. “He’s a detective with the state police,” Chase says through tight lips. “Do you think he has anything to do with Maggie?” I look at all their somber expressions.

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “But that’s Coroner Williams, the man who signed off on Magnolia’s autopsy, stating her cause of death was suicide.” I swallow again, looking around. This night was supposed to be a night away, not a night immersed in this mysterious bullshit.

“So, the mayor, the judge, the sheriff, the detective, and the slimy coroner are all in cahoots with each other,” Chase says, rubbing his chin. “But how are they connected to Maggie?” he asks softly, looking over at me.

“That’s exactly what I want to know,” I whisper, reaching for the glass in front of me. I sniff the actual champagne and knock it back. I’ve never liked the taste of alcohol, but this? This tastes good, bubbly in my throat and on my tongue. Next time, I’ll have more of this.

“Careful,” Seger says, taking the glass from me. “Can’t have you doing too much of that on an empty stomach.” He reaches for the bottle of grape juice, twists off the cap, and pours me a glass.

“What is their connection to her? Who would pay them to cover it up? And why?” I gape, trying to force myself to figure it out. I need answers. I need them now. Everything I thought was true isn’t. My head spins in the confusion of it all. Or maybe that’s the champagne? Whatever.

“What about her dad?” Chase spitballs, leaning back in his seat.

“He died when she was three. It was just her and her mom for ages until Victor came into the picture.”

“And how much do you know about him?” Zepp asks, staring into the room full of men again, rubbing his chin.

“I-I checked into him from the beginning. Everything is crystal clear. Clean bank statements, clean business practices, clean everything. It’s almost…”

“Too fucking clean,” Seger says, taking a swig of his glass. “Don’t ya think, baby?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Ugh,” I groan. “How did I miss that? What the hell is going on in this town?”

Our talk dies down as the server takes our order, bringing us another bottle of champagne and sparkling grape juice. “I can’t believe you ordered spaghetti and meatballs at the fanciest place in town,” Chase says through a lop-sided grin, egged on by the alcohol swimming in his veins.

“I like what I like, asshole.” I grin, sticking my tongue out.

I try to settle my nerves, even with potential murderers in the next room. This whole situation is growing bigger and bigger by the minute. Here I thought the kids at school were the culprits, but they aren’t the only ones. The men who run this town have their fingers dipped into the honey pot, and they won’t be so easy to take down. They have millions of dollars at their beck and call, and us? We’re simple high school students trying to survive.

“Did you hear that?” A server asks as she breaks through the swinging door with wide eyes, staring at another server beside her.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Did they say another one?” He whispers back to her, skin blanching.

“That makes what? Like five now?” The man shakes his head, rubbing his fingers along his forehead.

“No, this is six. That cop there said it was some boy from Talon Prep, a city over.” His voice drips in sadness.

“Did you hear what happened? How did they find him?”

The woman swallows hard, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hanging on the Bluestone Bridge.”

“The missing kid? He’s been gone for, what, five days?”

The swinging door blows open with Cushing Cunningham and Coroner Williams hot on his heels. “We’ll be there in five, don’t remove the body until we investigate. Damn it,” Cushing says into his phone, anger filling his voice.

“Who found the kid?” The coroner whispers to the detective, eyes darting around the room.

“Keep your voice down and let’s get this over with,” Cushing says, pulling him out of the restaurant and out of earshot.

“There was a missing kid?” Seger asks, leaning forward, shaking his head. “What in the ever-living fuck is going on around here? Are we in some fucked up episode of the Twilight Zone?”

“Seems to me, a serial killer is going around offing random people,” Zepp says through a sigh, taking a drink of his champagne.

“There’s been six deaths?” I ask, eyeing around the table, and they all nod. “How? Who?”