Pressing against the door, I closed my eyes and pictured the lock. The rush of static crept down my arms, jumping from the tips of my fingers through the wood. The click of the lock turning sounded like a nuclear bomb going off in my head.
I took a moment to prepare myself for what could be waiting on the other side of the door. If someone were in there, I’d have to defend myself. The idea of hurting someone, possibly killing him or her, sickened me, but I knew whoever it was wouldn’t stop twice from locking me up in a cage.
Telling myself I could do this, I opened the door and slowly stepped into the kitchen. A light was on above the stove, casting the room in soft light. I shut the door behind me and drew in a deep breath. This is insane. I crept forward, grateful for the thin soles on my boots.
Timid Katy no more…I’d moved onto good old B&E.
Balling my hands up under the sleeves of my hoodie, I moved down the hallway. The dining room was empty with the exception of a rolled-up sleeping bag on the floor. Two couches were pressed against the wall in the living room. There wasn’t a TV. It reminded me of a model home where everything was fake.
It gave me the creeps.
Holding a breath, I went upstairs slowly. Nothing about this house seemed real. It had no homey smells like leftover food or perfume. It smelled vacant. At the top of the stairs, there was a bathroom that had clearly been in use. There were hair products on the sink—gel and two toothbrushes.
My stomach tightened as I left the bathroom. All the bedroom doors were open. Each of them just had a bed and a dresser. All were empty.
The last room at the end of the hall was an office of sorts. A large desk sat in the middle of the otherwise empty room. There was a monitor on the top, but no hard drive. Moving around the desk, I pulled out the center drawer. Nothing. I checked the side drawers, becoming frustrated when they were all empty. I yanked open the last one.
“Jackpot,” I whispered.
I pulled out a file folder that was thick and heavy at the bottom. Lifting the file out carefully, I laid it on the desk and flipped it opened. There were pictures, hundreds of pictures.
My hands shook as I went through them. A buzzing filled my ears as I turned over picture after picture.
One of me walking from my car to the front of school in short sleeves. There were several from outside the Smoke Hole Diner, and I could just make out Dee and me sitting in front of the window, then one of us walking out the door, my arm in a splint and Dee laughing. Several more photos showed us together, at school, on my front porch, and in her car. There was one of us hugging in front of the FOOLAND, the first day I’d met her.
Then there were pictures of Daemon, eyes narrowed and face drawn tight as he was snapped walking around his SUV, keys clenched in his hand. Another was him standing on his porch, shirtless and in jeans, with me on his steps, glaring at him.
I picked up one, holding it in the light that came through the window. I was in my red two-piece bathing suit, standing on the bank of the lake. I’d been looking off to the side, and Daemon had been watching me, smiling—really smiling—unbeknownst to me. I hadn’t known he ever smiled around me at that time.
I dropped the picture as if it burned my skin. And it did on a surreal level.
There were more. Photos chronicling from the time I arrived in this place up until a few days ago. There were pictures of my mom heading to work, some with her and Will. There were no pictures of Blake and me together.
But the worst picture, the one that almost dropped me to my knees was one of Daemon carrying me back from the lake the night I’d been sick. The photo was dark and grainy, but I could make out the white sleep shirt, the way my arm hung limp, the look of pure concentration on Daemon’s face as he had one foot on the porch step.
Hell, could they be watching me now? I couldn’t let myself think about it.
The sense of violation sliced through skin and bone. They’d been watching us from the beginning. I wanted to take all these pictures. I wanted to burn them. Where there should’ve been fear, there was only anger. Who gave them the right to do this? With an anger so potent I could taste it, I gathered up the photos and placed them back in the file. I knew I couldn’t take them. Shoving them back into the drawer, I stood with hands trembling.
The bottom of the drawer poked up at the corner. Shoving the file back, I reached down and felt around until I got a grip on the edge. Peeling the contact paper back, I saw several sheets of paper. Most of them were receipts, which seemed odd to hide, considering everything. There were bank slips, too, showing money transfers. My eyes bugged at the amounts. Another slip of paper had an address with the letters DB written under it.
Dawson Black? Dee Black? Daemon Black?
Shoving the slip of paper into my pocket, I pressed the contact paper back down and put the file away. I closed the door, feeling numb as I started to stand.
“What are you doing in here?” a voice demanded.
Chapter 29
My heart leaped in my throat at the question. I jerked up, letting the rush of energy move along my skin, but the moment I locked eyes with the person standing in the doorway, I gasped.
Moonlight coming in from the window washed over Bethany’s pale face as she stepped into the room. Jeans and a T-shirt hung off her slender body. Her dirty hair fell in clumps. “What are you doing in here?”
“Bethany?” I croaked.
She cocked her head to the side. “Katy?” Her voice mimicked mine.
Taken aback by the fact she knew my name, I stared at her. “How do you know who I am?”
An eerie, faint smile tugged at her lips. “Everyone knows who you are,” she said in a singsong voice that reminded me of a child. “And so do I.”
I swallowed. “You mean the DOD?”
“I mean whoever is watching knows. They always know. They always hope, too. Whenever we get close.” She paused, closing her eyes, sighing. “They hope we get close.”
Oh, boy, this chick was cracked like Humpty Dumpty. “Beth, is the DOD keeping you?”