Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
My mind drifted to Gran. Every day, sundown to sunup, she worked herself to the bone to provide for my father, and then for me and Rainey. She never complained. She never quit. But when she dared to tell that cheating snake no, and deny him what was never his to take, he had her killed.
My pen strangled in my grip. Foundry will not win. I don’t care what I have to do. I don’t care if it costs me my life. Neither Steven Ellis nor the Men of Honor will have Bedlam.
“—essay on those chapters.” Professor Clarence clapped, snapping me to attention. “All right, everyone, good work today. Great discussion. We’ll pick this up again on Wednesday.”
The class filed out. I fell in step with Jacques, planning on getting the assignment from him later.
My silent companion led me across campus, back to the Bedlam Boy house. I held my breath as we climbed the stairs and stepped over the threshold into his room. Was me helping him with something code for helping him with his blue balls? Because I was way past ready to do that.
Jacques bent over his desk. Slipping my arms around him, I melted against his back, reaching his belt.
“Unless you’re taking that off for me to use on you, let me go and sit down.”
I hummed. “We both know that’s not a threat.”
Jacques made a noise. Was that... a laugh?
Before I could be sure, he peeled off my fingers and towed me to his bed. I didn’t hide my disappointment when he reached into his desk, pulled out a sheaf of papers, and dropped them on my lap.
“What’s this?”
“These are the possible members of the Black Letter Crew—for lack of a better name.” Jacques pulled his desk chair over to me. Our knees bumped as he sat. It cheered me that he didn’t pull away. “Took a while to sort through the therapist’s notes, and then cross-reference to check if they ever crossed paths with Cavendish.
“You’re the last step.”
“Me?”
His chin dipped. “You know how he worked. What he said. How he spins his webs of manipulation. You can tell me which of these people were more likely to fall prey to him.”
“But you blocked out the faces,” I said. “And the names.”
“Naturally. I just told you I believe in privacy. Dante and his acolytes might be in there, but the rest are students who didn’t consent to us knowing what they told their therapist.”
Sighing, I leaned back against his pillows, making myself comfortable. “Fair enough. There has to be a line somewhere. This is a good one. I’ll need your help to fill in some things for me, though. Since you know the people behind these reports.”
“Neither one of us has anywhere else to be for the next two hours.”
With that, I got to reading. Dean Banks made seeing the therapist mandatory for everyone who experienced a trauma. That was how Scott Cavendish himself ended up in the chair, talking about sitting by his dying best friend’s bedside. Too bad the woman didn’t pick up that Scott killed said best friend. It would’ve saved a lot of people trouble if she had.
“This one.” I tugged a page out of the stack. “Do you know her?”
Jacques scanned the page and nodded.
“When she lost her boyfriend, did she have friends or family around? It says she broke down after his death and attempted suicide, but what happened? Did she go through treatment alone?”
He shook his head. “As I recall, her parents flew in and stayed with her. And it was a friend who found her and called an ambulance.”
“Then, she’s not one of them.” I put her page facedown on his desk, the start of my discard pile. “Think about me and Zoey. Naming her Blake was just one of the many reasons she resented them. Her dad ditched when she was eight. Her mother checked out soon after. She had to deal with the bullying alone, and after she was raped and the cops did nothing, she dealt with that alone too.
“It was the same for me,” I said, wanting to look away but trapped in his gaze. “We were so isolated out there on the farm. I dropped out of school after Gran died, and my friends could only stand my grief and rage for so long. Pretty soon, they wanted to go back to drinking, frat parties, and hooking up. I was buried under the pressure of keeping things together for my younger sister, and then I discovered the murder and cover-up.
“I was totally vulnerable to a snake like Cavendish coming in and swearing he could help me when I was on the edge of losing hope. Someone with a strong support system wouldn’t fall so easily to him.”
“Sound reasoning. Actually, I have to agree with you.” Jacques took the papers and flipped through, taking some out and dropping them on the pile. “Someone with a loving family and supportive friends doesn’t just up and join a death cult. How about the rest?”