24. Chapter Twenty-Four Lakey
Chapter Twenty-Four: Lakey
I jolted awake, Janine's house burning behind my eyelids. The thought blazed through my mind, urgent and all-consuming. I had to get back there, had to know what the fuck was going on.
"Cam," I said, shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, dick breath. We've got work to do."
He groaned, cracking one eye open. "Christ, Lakey. What time is it? You gotta stop waking me up like this. I'm getting PTSD."
"It's seven o'clock, asshole. Time to get our asses in gear," I snapped, already scrambling out of bed. My skin itched with the need to move, to act. "We're going back to Janine's place. Tonight."
Cam sat up, rubbing his face. "You sure that's smart, babe? Place is probably scrubbed."
I whirled on him. "I don't give a rat's ass about smart. I need answers, and that bitch's house is the only place we're gonna find them."
He studied me for a long moment. I could see the gears turning in that devious mind of his.
Finally, he nodded. "Alright, baby. We'll go back to her house.
BUT. No unnecessary risks. That means, if you see something you don't like, you gotta stay calm, 'ight?
We handle everything with a level head."
I grinned. "When have I ever been unnecessary?"
Cam snorted, pulling me close. "Uh, I dunno. When you killed Steve, and we still needed information? Probably a little fucking unnecessary. You're a damn tornado, Lakey. We can kill when it's absolutely necessary."
I leaned into his touch, savoring the rare moment of tenderness. Whatever secrets Janine had been hiding, I was going to rip them out by the roots.
"Hooookaaaaay. Fine."
"So, what's the plan, boss lady?" Cam asked, his voice rough from sleep. The huskiness did something to my insides I didn't have time for right now.
I laid it out for him, quick and dirty, trying to distract myself from the unholy thoughts rattling through my brain. "We go in quiet, search every fucking inch of that place. There's gotta be something we missed. Documents, pictures, anything that'll tell us what that bitch was really up to."
Cam nodded. "And if we run into any... obstacles?"
I met his gaze, unflinching. "If they're non-cooperative, we remove them. Permanently. If they cooperate, maybe we can keep one as a pet. But don't worry, I will follow your lead, and I won't make it messy, we will wipe our prints down, yadda, yadda. Good?"
"That's my girl."
As we prepared, my mind kept circling back to that little girl's face. Those eyes, so hauntingly familiar. Was it possible? Could she really be...? I shoved the thought away. Surely, I'd remember having a whole fucking baby. I'd have never let them tear her from my grasp.
What did Steven say? They pick each genetic code. Maybe they're just addicted to small blue-eyed blondes.
With a sigh, I swung my legs out of bed and started getting ready for a day of preparation.
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and angry reds. I stood in front of our cracked mirror, methodically applying a dark wig and heavy makeup. Beside me, Cam was pulling on a nondescript black hoodie.
"Pass me that lockpick set, would ya?" I said, not taking my eyes off my reflection.
The face staring back at me was a stranger's.
Perfect. Wouldn't do us any good sauntering up to Janine's looking like ourselves.
Especially if she was back. A few seconds of confusion might save our asses before she'd be able to piece it together and recognize me.
Cam's large hand appeared in my periphery, the tools catching the dim light. "You sure about this, babe?"
I turned to face him, allowing a small, sharp smile to play across my lips. "When have I ever not been sure, baby?" I reached up to trace the line of his jaw. "We're gonna find out what that cunt was hiding even if I have to burn the whole fucking neighborhood down."
"God, you're beautiful when you're plotting murder," he said, pulling me in for a bruising kiss. "Just try your absolute best to remember that we agreed nothing unnecessary."
We broke apart, both a little breathless. "Yeah, yeah. Always trying to stifle my fun. Whatever. Let's roll," I said, grabbing my bag of supplies.
The ride through the neighborhood was surreal, as it always was.
We passed from our shitty part of town, all crumbling buildings and flickering streetlights, into Janine's oh-so-respectable domain.
The contrast was stark: manicured lawns, gleaming SUVs in driveways, the whole suburban wet dream.
And we were only really about three or four blocks apart.
"Makes me want to puke," Cam said, echoing my thoughts.
I snorted. "Bet half these perfect families have some nasty skeletons in their closets. Maybe we should stick around, do a little spring cleaning."
We stopped our bikes about a block away from our target. As we got off, a dog barked in the distance, and I tensed, scanning the quiet street.
"Relax," Cam's voice was low in my ear. "We've got this."
I nodded, forcing myself to breathe. The twin knives strapped to my thighs was comforting. Whatever happened tonight, we'd handle it. We always did.
As we crept towards Janine's house, my thoughts wouldn't quiet long enough for me to figure them out. What would we find inside? More importantly, was I ready for the answers? A small, traitorous part of me whispered that maybe some secrets were better left buried.
I crushed that thought ruthlessly. No turning back now. Whatever the truth was, I needed it. And if anyone tried to stop us, well, let's just say I was itching to start a domino effect of burying skeletons in closets.
The stillness hit me as we reached the walkway. Everything was too quiet, too still, like no one had ever lived here. My skin prickled, every sense on high alert.
"Fuck me," I whispered, eyeing the overgrown lawn and wilted flowers. "This place looks like it's been run into the ground since we were last here."
Cam scanned the house. "No lights, no car. Doesn't look like anyone's been home in a while. But it was like this the last time we came. I guess no one came back, confirming my suspicion. She's moving on to her next alias. But... what did she do with the girl?"
The girl. Lillianna. Even thinking her name made something tighten in my chest, in a place I didn't know I had feelings.
A place I didn’t want feelings.
I crouched down, running my fingers over the brittle grass. "Dead as disco. Just like all those foster families' hopes for me." I flashed Cam a grin.
"Oh babe, you were an A+ pupil in my eyes."
"Yeah, that's just cuz I'm amazing at sucking dick." I winked, sticking my tongue out and loving how his eyes darkened. I turned, walking to the side of the house, motioning for Cam to follow.
We crept towards the back door, sticking to the shadows. Every snapping twig was deafening in the silence. My hands trembled with excitement and something darker, more primal.
"She couldn't have actually just skipped town," I said. "Who the fuck does that?"
Cam shrugged, working on the lock. "Maybe. Or maybe she's in the house next door setting up for a new kid. I dunno."
The lock clicked open. We exchanged a look. This was it. Whatever waited inside, there was no going back now.
"Ladies first," Cam smirked, gesturing to the door.
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the rush of affection. Even facing potential disaster, he could still make me smile. "My hero," I said, then slipped inside, knife at the ready.
The house was pitch black, the air stale and thick. Every instinct screamed danger, but I pushed forward. Who fucking knows, maybe the bitch booby trapped it for us. I'd love to see the day.
"Watch your step," Cam whispered, close behind me. "And for fuck's sake, don't touch anything you don't absolutely need to touch. I keep fucking forgetting to grab gloves like some novice serial killer."
I nodded, though he probably couldn't see it. My fingers twitched, itching to explore, to uncover secrets. But Cam was right. We couldn't afford to leave traces.
As we moved deeper into the house, it grew more musty.
This place hadn't just been abandoned. It had been evacuated.
The furniture was still here, the curtains still hung, but everything personal was gone.
No shoes by the door. No coats on the hooks.
No magnets on the fridge. It was a house with the person scraped out of it.
Lillianna's room would be upstairs. The pink curtains were gone from the window, I'd seen that from outside, but maybe something else remained. A toy she'd left behind. A drawing on the wall. Something that proved she'd been here and been real and been safe.
"You take the upstairs," I whispered to Cam. "I'll sweep down here."
He hesitated, clearly not wanting to split up, but efficiency won out. With a curt nod, he headed for the stairs, leaving me alone in the suffocating darkness.
My heart settled as I crept through the living room, each step calculated. The beam of my flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing layers of dust and neglect. On the mantle was one single photo. Janine holding a baby.
I picked it up. Janine's face stared back at me, younger, maybe early forties, holding a newborn wrapped in a pink blanket.
The baby had a tuft of blonde hair and its eyes were closed, its mouth a tiny pink bow.
Janine was smiling, but it wasn't a warm smile.
It was the smile of someone holding a prize. A trophy. A product.
I turned the frame over. On the back, in pencil, someone had written a date and there was a small photo of Lillianna tucked into the frame. The date was one that lived in the black hole of my memory, somewhere between St. Agnes and the SINNERS blackout.
My hands went cold as I grabbed the loose photo and shoved it in my pocket.
I set the frame down and kept searching. I rifled through drawers, flipped through old mail, searching for anything that might explain the gaping holes in my memory. Nothing. Fucking nothing.