Chapter 24 Faust
TWENTY-FOUR
FAUST
“Jackson was at a party I went to with Cynthia.”
“Your roommate.” I say it out loud just to confirm to myself, so I remember the people in her life.
She smiles, as if I’m trying to charm her, and really, I’m not. But I like her smile, how her teeth are white but crooked, the way she seems to think giving away a smile is akin to giving away her power.
It’s like she has no idea that with me, she holds all of that.
Of course I’d never admit it out loud to her, because I don’t know how this is going to end between us and it’s not even begun.
But she’s here, wearing my gray sweats with the dragon logo in red on one side, and a red T-shirt that has my last name on the back in white, which makes me want to fuck her.
Maybe this is the beginning.
But finding love with a girl who was running from a guy she slept with because he was mad she also slept with his best friend, only to find both of them dead within the same week… It seems like a story doomed to end in failure.
Or worse.
While Coach doesn’t seem to think Will Barbour’s death will even hit the circle of me or Sylvan or anyone else on the team for that matter, I’m not convinced.
The detectives are taking their sweet time releasing any information at all, and there’s been no public persons of interest or suspects.
Which means we could definitely still make that list.
Right now, sitting on the circular couch in my entertainment room—Neve rolled her eyes when I called it that after leading her up to the third floor—what I’m really curious about is Sylvan’s connection to Jackson and Will.
He’d deny they have any, and Neve doesn’t seem to think they do either.
And do I really believe my right winger is a murderer?
Some days, especially lately, I want to kill him.
But something feels off about the whole thing.
Is it the work of a serial killer? Canada has those. I think of Paul Bernardo and push the case from my mind. But in Drayton? Seems unlikely. Then again, no city is ever completely crime free. People are people everywhere.
And after Neve asked me about Sylvan’s home life and I realized I know absolutely nothing personal about him, I feel uneasy.
But much less so with Neve beside me, both of us covered in blankets. She seemed delighted—and shocked—that I had any at all when she spotted the four stacked up and piled neatly in a wicker basket at the end of the couch.
Mom and Rachel helped me decorate this place, so I can’t take all the credit, but who the fuck doesn’t have blankets?
The TV mounted on the wall opposite us is on, NHL highlights playing, but neither of us are paying attention.
Neve has her phone in hand; she hasn’t set the damn thing down since we left the kitchen after we both helped wash and dry dishes, despite the fact I have a functioning—and much used—dishwasher.
I wonder if she’s nervous, but her knee is bent on the couch, touching my hip.
She’s so close I can smell the incense of her, and the fresh scent around her from using my skincare products.
She liked my cleansing balm, the serum, and the moisturizer.
She complained I didn’t have a facial oil, and maybe I mentally made a note to buy one after I talk to my mom about it, but I sure as fuck did not tell her that.
“My roommate,” she confirms. “We were drunk. Will was there. Someone had invited Cyn and me. The house was incredible—”
“Nicer than mine?” I arch a brow.
She ducks her smile, and it feels holy, seeing her unguarded. “Shut up,” she murmurs. “I mean, there was a pool there too.”
“But it’s cold outside. How long ago was this?”
“Okay, Mr. Officer. Let me finish.” She gently pushes at my arm, then her fingers close around my biceps—as much as she can anyway—and her lips part, brows going up.
I start to feel really good about myself and maybe I flex, but she drops her hand like I’ve burned her, clears her throat, squeezes her phone, and keeps talking.
She’s continually telling me she’s a whore and no good, but her actions, her expressions, the way she is with me, I don’t believe any of that. Or maybe I like to arrogantly think it’s me who is making her different.
“It was a few weeks ago. Pool was heated. Jackson said it was his house. Turns out it was his mother’s.”
I don’t say a word, but I hope she can see how revolting I think that is by the look on my face.
“I know.” She wrinkles her nose, her cheeks flushing pink. “Anyway. We…”
“You don’t need to say it.” She really doesn’t.
She nods once, darting her eyes away, and I wonder if I’ve upset her, but I just can’t stand to hear about her fucking another guy, even if I know it happened and I know I’m not supposed to have a claim on her.
“I spent the night. We… a few more times over the next few days. His mother was, as you might have guessed, still away. Then we all hung out—me, Will, him—at Will’s place. One thing led to another, and Jackson had to leave early for whatever. Will and I—”
“Jackson was fine with leaving you alone with his best friend? At his place?”
She looks at me blankly. Like she doesn’t understand the question, but I don’t really believe that.
I take a breath when she doesn’t answer me. “If I were him…”
“You’d be dead,” she deadpans.
I run my tongue over my teeth to keep from laughing. “I would never have left you there.” My voice is lower than I meant it to be, and the dim lighting in the entertainment room cocoons us in darkness as the TV flickers to a commercial.
We’re leaning in toward one another, and I’m thinking of her sitting on Sylvan’s lap at Castle’s and how I want to fucking erase that from my brain by dragging her to sit on me instead.
“Anyway.” She tries for flippant, but her voice cracks. “That’s what happened. Then somehow Jackson found out, and I wanted to break up with him anyway. We had to meet after my night class—”
“The one I walked you from.”
“The one you stalked me from.” She doesn’t miss a beat. “He was telling me he knew what happened—”
“How did he know?”
She stills. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Tell me, North.” She’s holding something back.
She looks down at her knee against my hip. Squeezes her phone. Then it all comes out in a rush. “Jackson told me Will confessed.” She lifts her eyes to mine. “He absolutely used that word in his truck. I remember, because that’s when he started shouting. But when Will came by my place…”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from questioning her about that. About how he hurt her. It’s not like I can kill the fucker when he’s already dead, but just like his stupid friend, he deserved to get stabbed for putting his hands on her. And Sylvan wasn’t wrong to assault him.
But was he wrong to kill him?
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? If I find out my teammate did it, would I turn him in? It’s dangerous, because that means Connor clearly has problems hockey won’t solve. But if I think Will Barbour deserved death, why should I punish Sylvan?
The thought makes me feel sick because it’s a legal dilemma I don’t want to ruin my life for.
Then again, if I saw Will with his filthy hands on her, I might have killed him right then. That could mean Sylvan Connor, cocky freshman, has more self-control than I do.
That doesn’t seem right.
“He told me he didn’t tell him. And I think he was telling the truth.”
Silence settles between us. It might seem as if it doesn’t matter, but that one detail could be extremely important. Yet it makes me think of something Coach Wynon casually mentioned to me when he was giving me information I shouldn’t have.
And now I need to tell Neve.
“What?” she asks, as if she knows I’m holding back. “I can see it in your eyes. Something churning in that beautiful brain of yours.”
I catch her eyes. “Beautiful, huh?”
She lowers her lashes, smiling. “Tell me,” she requests softly.
Fuck, if she always used that voice on me, she could have whatever she wants. I swallow, clear my throat, then say, “Coach mentioned something I shouldn’t know, so it can go nowhere. He has ties with the police, through Drayton’s counsel.”
She meets my gaze, nods once, and even though maybe I shouldn’t, for some reason, I trust her.
“The investigators haven’t found Will’s phone. Apparently, a few days prior to his death—before Jackson died, even—he’d reported it missing. Earlier in the week.”
Her complexion goes pale. “Before Jackson?” she asks, her voice rough.
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
That ghostly pallor is still in her face. “He… mentioned it to me. When he came over.” She swallows hard. “That he lost his phone. But I kind of thought he was lying.”
I think I know why. Obviously, someone told Jackson what her and Will did.
And if it wasn’t Will, but he claimed it was, does that mean he was only protecting his source, or…
Did someone pretend to be Will Barbour through a phone call or a spoofed text or something else?
Did Jackson steal his phone, and he was only protecting himself?
Or was it Sylvan who stole the phone, and that’s why he seems to know so much about Neve? But she said they’ve never met before the night Jackson died, and he’s got enough girls’ attention, he doesn’t need to stalk someone whose name he doesn’t know.
But he knew her address, didn’t he? And her number? And yeah, he has a cover story on how he got them, but if he’s a murderer, it’s not that far-fetched to believe he’s a fucking liar, too.
Has he been stalking Neve? Why?
“Do you have any ties to New York?” I ask her quietly.
“I’m from North Carolina,” she retorts, like I’ve insulted her.
I smile. “I’m aware.”
She narrows her eyes. “How?”
“You have social media.” I finally checked.
Her gaze widens and her skin pinkens again. “You’ve seen that? I never post there anymore.”
“Yeah. You never show your face, and I kind of like that. So no one else can see you.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s that smile she’s trying to hide.
She’s posted about being from the Southern state, and if I squint, I can see it. The blond Southern belle who tries to blend in so no one thinks she’s different. But she is. Entirely so. And it has nothing to do with what country she’s from.
My pulse quickens, but I try not to think of it when she looks up at me, her gaze intense.
“I do, though. Have ties to New York.”
I wait for her to go on.
“My brother, Nolan. He’s a lawyer in NYC.
His firm works with tech. IT stuff. Security.
Some things he has strong NDAs for, and he never talks about it with me.
” She frowns, and I think she knows where my train of thought was going because she adds, “But that’s far from Buffalo.
” Where Sylvan is from. “Does he have ties to the City?”
We stare at one another, but I don’t have an answer.
“I guess we’ll find out,” I say, and she nods, serious. “And in the meantime, ask your brother about him.”
A shadow crosses her face, but she doesn’t argue. Still, it feels like she’s holding something in.
“You’re not telling me something.” I say it softly, without accusation. “On this, can we just trust each other?”
She bites her bottom lip, and I think she’s going to refuse.
But then she says, “Someone texted me. Like, a countdown before Will knocked on my door. I thought it was him at first. I had deleted his number before.” She swallows.
“But then he said he lost his phone, and now you’re confirming it.
” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. It’s eerie. ”
Anger and concern snakes through me. “Have you told anyone about that?”
“No.”
“Neve, what the fuck.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Have you ever been in the middle of two murders? Don’t fucking criticize me.”
“Show me the texts.”
She closes her eyes tight. “I can’t.” Her voice is hoarse. “I deleted them.”
For fuck’s sake. I blow out a breath and run my fingers through my hair. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
She snaps her eyes open. “Do you want the truth?”
“I don’t want a lie.”
“I thought they might, somehow, implicate your fucking teammate.”