XXIII
Tori
W hile I did manage to get some sleep, I’ve been awake for a while, lying on the bed. My body aches, and if I put weight in the wrong place, I find myself wincing. Beneath the clothes Dr. Wright has lent me, there are dozens of scrapes and freshly forming bruises.
My stomach has been grumbling since I woke. I’m almost certain that’s what woke me up, because it’s what’s stopping me from being able to go back to sleep.
Finally, I hear the professor get up and go downstairs, so I take it as my cue to head into the bathroom to check my appearance before going down myself.
There’s almost as much hair escaping my hair tie as there is remaining in the ponytail it had been in. My face is covered in streaks of makeup and dirt—which it no doubt had been when Dr. Wright carried me through the door.
My hair is easier to fix than my face, so I quickly retie the ponytail. Then I attempt to wash my face as best I can without any makeup remover. When I look half decent, I go to find the professor.
Dr. Wright’s house seemed bigger last night. In the dim morning light, it’s much smaller. And cold, though not from the temperature so much as his lack of personality.
I assumed that the room I’d slept in was the guest bedroom, but after opening a few drawers and the closet, seeing various items in the bathroom had me reassessing that line of thought. There were no pictures on the wall, not even when I get downstairs.
The hallway opens up into a living room, which seems larger than it is because of the lack of furniture: one couch, an old, mismatching armchair, and a large television hanging over the fireplace.
I walk through the living room to the kitchen and stand in the doorway. Dr. Wright’s back is to me as he stands at the stove cooking eggs. Cracked eggshells are stacked in a bowl beside him.
The toaster pops, and he turns the heat down before moving to the fridge. “Coffee’s brewed if you want a cup,” he says like he knew I’d been there all along. He pulls out some butter and creamer, setting the bottle down in front of me before he walks over to the toaster.
I glance to the side, spotting the machine and two mugs in front of it. One is already full, so I pour myself a cup and then sit down at the small breakfast table, bringing his drink with me.
Moments later, Dr. Wright places a plate of scrambled eggs on toast in front of me before sitting opposite with his own breakfast.
“Thank you,” I say. Then I dig in, practically inhaling my food.
I finish before the professor has even made his way through half of his meal, and I instantly regret eating so quickly, because now, I’ve got nothing to do.
“Thank you for last night, Dr. Wright,” I say, eventually.
“Payne.”
“A little, but I’ll be okay.”
His lips press into a thin line as he lowers his knife and fork. “My name. Payne.”
“Oh.” No sound comes out as I move my lips.
When we went to New York, chasing a lead, he told me his name was Payne, and that I should call him that, but the excursion hardly made us besties. Even in his house, it doesn’t seem right to call him that.
He doesn’t say anything else, but he also doesn’t pick his cutlery back up.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened last night?” I ask.
There isn’t a single hair on his head, but Payne leans back and rubs his hand over the back of it before lowering his hand and letting out a sigh. “The Elite.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway.
He stares at me for a long time; his dark eyes seem to be looking for something on my face. Slowly, the ice begins to melt, and like in New York, I see some warmth. “If I hadn’t come when I did, what would have happened?”
“I’d have been put into the trunk of that car and returned to Syn. He said if I was caught, he was going to let every member of the Elite fuck me, and I don’t think Syn would go back on his word.”
Payne gently taps his fingers on the table as he processes my words. “You’d have let him?”
I shrug.
Last night, I probably would have used that safe word, though I’m not completely convinced it would have let me off the rest of the week. And if it had, would Syn try the same thing again another time?
At once, the warmth in Payne’s eyes is replaced with anger. “You would.”
Narrowing my eyes, I glare back at him. “Joining the Elite might be a farce, but the conditions were that I do what I’m told. I still haven’t found my answers, so I can’t leave yet. Which means I’ll do whatever stupid hazing—”
“End it.”
“Huh?” My lips part.
“I didn’t know what they would do. Or, maybe I did, but I didn’t believe they would…” Payne shakes his head before closing his eyes. His hands grip the edge of the table. “They did something to Lucy, and I’m here forcing a child to live amongst them…”
Lucy Barnes. The mystery woman who Payne had accused my brother of also murdering…
Until meeting the professor, I’d never even heard of Lucy Barnes. Cole certainly hadn’t been charged with her murder, and according to Arthur Willsberg, the two were even dating.
“Who is she? Lucy Barnes.” He’s never answered this question before… not that I’m expecting him to now.
Payne opens his eyes and resumes staring at me. Then he glances around the room as though it’s his first time in it, eyeing the worn wood and scuffed work surfaces like I had.
“I bought this house just before I moved here, but I don’t actually live here.”
My nose wrinkles from my confusion. I pinch the sweatshirt I’m wearing. “Your clothes are here.”
“I grew up in the next town. It’s too small for a high school, so I went to Keyingham High School. That’s where I met Alec. We were instant friends. I got an academic scholarship to Penn, and he joined the ROTC at St. Joseph’s. After we graduated, he moved a lot, depending on where he was stationed, and I eventually took a job in California.”
He goes quiet. I’m not sure what this has to do with anything, but I don’t want to say anything in case he changes his mind about sharing.
Payne pushes his chair back and stands, picking up his unfinished breakfast and my empty plate, to take them over to the sink. Then he turns his attention to the coffee machine, adding fresh grounds, a filter and water. As the machine starts to brew, he returns to the table, only to collect our empty mugs.
“I don’t live here, but I spent more time here than my own place while we were in high school. Alec lived here with his mom and sister.”
“Lucy?”
He doesn’t respond, instead, waits for the machine to finish. He pours two cups and returns to the table, setting one down in front of me. He passes me the creamer, then leans back against the side, nursing his drink.
“She was a baby when I met Alec. His dad had split, not long after he was born, and his mom never had much luck with men. Lucy’s father sure as hell didn’t stick around, either. Me and Alec raised her. Surprised the hell out of me when I graduated with my Ph.D. and came to visit when Alec had leave, only to find this toddler was in high school.”
“You fell in love?” I ask.
Instantly, Payne wrinkles his face in disgust. “She was a high school sophomore and a kid I practically raised. Of course not.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, reaching for the creamer so I can focus on something else.
“Their mom died the summer after she graduated high school. Covid. Alec was stationed in the Middle East, and I was in California. We did the best we could for her, but she ended up not going to college. Said she was going to take a year off and re-enroll the following year. There was a pandemic and…” he sighs. “Then just before Christmas, Alec was killed. His body was returned home to be laid to rest. And the only person who wasn’t there was Lucy.”
Abruptly, he sets his untouched drink down, picks up the pan he had cooked the eggs in, and then marches over to the sink where he starts running water.
With the pad of my finger, I tap the side of my mug, chewing at my lip. Payne hasn’t mentioned his own family, but from the sounds of things, Lucy, Alec, and their mother might as well have been his own blood.
I get up and walk across the room, watching Payne as he scrubs at the pan. “You really think she’s dead? That my brother murdered her?”
Payne’s hands stop moving as he turns to look at me. “There isn’t a single reason I can come up with as to why she wouldn’t go to Alec’s funeral—not without her saying something.” He sighs and shuts off the water. “Your brother was dating her. He’s already in prison for murdering someone. If he didn’t, he sure as hell knows something about it.”
“My brother didn’t kill anybody.” My response is automatic, because I’ve told Dr. Wright this a hundred times already.
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know anything.” He turns to me. “Unless you’ve been lying all this time, and you knew they were dating.”
“The first time I heard her name was when you accused my brother of killing her. And the only person who said they were dating was Arthur. We can go visit my brother next weekend—”
“Your brother won’t see me.”
I don’t know why I’m surprised to learn Payne’s tried to visit him. If he thought Cole had killed Lucy, of course he would.
“Then I can go see him. But surely, if she’s missing, you’ve spoken to the police. I bet the police would love to throw another murder charge at him, and yet, nothing.”
Payne stares at the dirty dishes.
As more time passes, more things seem to get complicated. Any answers just lead to more questions, and my brother is still in prison.
“Can I use your phone?” I ask. “I should call a cab.”
Payne turns to me then, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t go back.”
“You think my brother did something, and I think the Elite hold the answers,” I tell him.
“Exactly.”
“If I leave, that’s it. I’m not sure if I’m going to find anything, but if I leave, I definitely won’t. They won’t let me back in—this opportunity will be lost and—”
“It’s better to lose an opportunity than your life,” Payne snaps. “I have no fucking clue what happened before I found you last night, but it was twenty-eight degrees, and you were so damn cold that I can only assume you’d been out in that for a while, wearing nothing but a kink outfit. That asshole already had your underwear off you, and he was ready to stuff you in the back of a car to join a line of people waiting to rape you.”
“I gave my consent when I signed that contract and walked into the house,” I yell back at him. “The only reason you didn’t want me to go in was because you thought I would find something proving Cole’s guilt and hide it from you, not because you thought I was going to get hurt, so don’t start pretending you’re worried about me now. This is hazing—bullying— revenge , but I will put up with it until I know I’m not going to find anything that frees my brother.”
The only movement from Payne is him curling his hand into a fist, but he doesn’t raise his arm. His nostrils flair, and his bald head gives his veins nothing to hide behind. He looks like he’s ready to explode, but instead, he turns, heads straight for the back door and walks outside, slamming it behind him.