How can I do this to that woman? How can I hurt her by leaving with a man who mistreated her so badly?
With a growl, I turn off the recording on my phone and put my face in my hands for a minute.
But only for a minute.
The internet, and its endless possibilities for answers, awaits.
Maxx and Chasm video chat me a short time later, prowling around the abandoned diner together. It’s actually Maxx who grabs one of the boards on the rear window and yanks it off like it’s nothing, chucking the piece aside before climbing through.
“Told ya he was weird at times,” Chasm murmurs, following after with his phone in hand. The inside of the diner is relatively free of debris, set up with laminate-topped tables and red booths with holes and tears in the faux leather coverings. Here and there, a silver napkin dispenser sits, a pair of salt and pepper shakers, a small stack of dirty plates. But that’s about it.
There’s no cellar, nothing even remotely like a cellar. The place is one floor, relatively small, and completely inconspicuous.
“Another dead end,” X remarks, hands on his hips. He’s wearing jeans and a white tank that shows off every muscle in his shoulders, chest, and arms. It’s absurdly distracting. Also, it makes me think of Maxine. This is her man, not mine. Hers to ogle, hers to talk to, hers to snuggle. Even though it was never my intention, I’ve taken her away from him.
The guilt is crushing, almost suffocating.
“Mr. Volli’s place then?” Chasm suggests, and Maxx nods.
“You need to be extremely careful over there,” I warn them, and Chas gives me a smirk in response.
“Worried about me, Little Sister?” he teases, but I’m not playing around here.
“Yes. I’m terrified actually. For both of you.” I sigh and shove my fraying braid over one shoulder. “I wish I could be there.”
“I’m supremely relieved that you’re not,” X interrupts, kicking a random pinecone across the floor. “Apparently, Mr. Volli lives in a three bed, two bath rambler on Tenth Street. He paid almost two million for it a few months ago. Doesn’t that seem odd, that a teacher—even a Whitehall teacher—can afford a house for two mil?”
I wish fervently that I had the address for the house Tess mentioned so that I could look it up online. Might not give me all the details I need, but it would help.
At the beginning of the video call, I filled the boys in as quickly as I could on the things I learned from Tess.
The theatre was a huge clue. The winery, too. I feel like this ‘place’ idea is really something.
If only I could place the skeleton key, maybe match it to one of those locations?
“Maybe Justin bought it for him?” Chasm responds, his voice a caustic mess. “Fuck, I hate that man. I’ve never hated anyone the way I hate him. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to sock that bitch in the face?”
X cringes a bit, ruffling up his dark hair. It’s a similar tone of brown to Parrish’s, but without the sun-bleached bits. Also, it’s about three shades darker, remarkably similar to my natural hair color. To Maxine’s natural hair color.
I give a small huff to clear my head.
“No, I shouldn’t have done that,” Maxx reiterates, narrowing his eyes slightly at the pinecone before he looks back up at the phone screen, his intelligent gaze slicing right through and straight into me. “But I’ll make up for it, whatever I have to do. If there are going to be consequences for that, they should fall on me.”
“Enough with your dark knight/white knight bullshit,” Chasm interrupts. “My dad is breathing down my neck.” He subconsciously reaches up with the hand that isn’t holding the phone to prod at the spot beside his mouth where his lip ring is supposed to go. It’s so smooth and perfect, you never would know he had a piercing at all. Paired with his long-sleeved black and red sweater, black slacks, and sprayed black hair, he looks like the perfect upstanding Whitehall student. “We need to get over there and get this done.”
“We won’t call you while we’re there,” Maxx tells me, and I frown. “We won’t be able to talk freely anyway. If there’s something to take note of, we’ll message you. Otherwise, I should be home within a few hours.”
“At least text me right when you get there, and right when you leave,” I offer, and X nods.
“Will do,” Chasm replies, giving me a slight smile before he ends the call.
I tap the phone against my hand before diving back into my research.
The closest cemeteries appear to be in Bellevue or Kirkland, so not exactly the easiest thing to pin down. I try searching for Gabbi Patterson burial location next. No results. Patterson might not be her last name. Tess has never mentioned her parents like, at all. But she might still have had one of their last names. Again, I don’t know if Gabbi was Tess’ mother’s mother or her father’s mother.
