Me: You know you don’t mean that.
Orion: I guess that depends on whether or not Sable’s alive when we find her.
Me: You’ve been talking to Lex too much. You’re getting morbid. She’s alive.
Orion: It’s been a long time since anyone’s confirmed that, and there isn’t much explanation about where the hell she went.
Me: Even if we can’t find Sable, do you want to see your brother dead?
Orion: Why would you even suggest that?
Me: You’d have to see him to understand.
CHAPTER 9
HADRIAN
The scrapbook isthe closest connection I have to Sable, and I continue to search through it as if our lives depend on it. Whether or not I’m getting any closer to her current location, I’m not sure, but I have learned an awful lot about young Sable and the people around her.
For one, Liliana was a constant feature in this book. They were together all the time. I’ve been through every page and seen all the pictures, but I keep looking again, pressing deeper and hoping to see something I didn’t see before. In the very back of the scrapbook, I finally find something I missed.
Fixed in a pretty pink birthday-themed page is a picture from a party. Sable’s arms are wrapped around Liliana. Her smile is wide and toothy. She hasn’t fully grown into her features. Fifteen, the banner behind her says, also behind her is a woman’s face partially obscured in shadow. The note reads Mrs. Davenport.
Given Liliana Davenport isn’t real, who the hell is that?
The guys have all been banging down the same doors looking for Sable, and we aren’t any closer. Isn’t that what music is, though? A good improv can lead to the best, most earth-shattering pieces. That’s what we need now, somethingdifferent, something they might not consider. That led me to an interesting idea. Who knows Sable really well? Other than us, particularly my stalking buddy Parker, her enemies. Liliana Davenport, whatever the hell your real name is.
What was the point of her con? These girls spent years together, and she spent all that time pretending to be Sable’s dear friend. My girl garners the press's attention like no one I’ve ever seen, and people love to hate her. Her family’s curse is an American pastime. Is that why “Liliana” tacked onto her? They went on a lot of trips, Sable bought her elaborate gifts, but from the looks of it, Liliana never struggled to keep up. She had people here at Bellthorn fooled too.
How did she pull all of that off, and did she ever regret it? I know the truth is that she didn’t. How she fits into this whole puzzle may not be entirely clear yet, but she’s far from innocent. I sometimes wonder if anyone but us sees Sable as a real person, and I can’t help but think that being that incredibly beautiful is a curse as well as anything else. As I sit there, I become more and more sure that I need to find out who this woman was.
Bellthorn may be positively enormous, but it’s small in many ways too. I know Arabella has been here for winter break. If rumors were to be believed, she’s been with Soren the whole time, but having seen him, I don’t believe that. It doesn’t take me too long to find her. She and her cheerleader cronies are hanging out in one of the main lounges, where they can usually be found. I don’t know why they stayed behind, but I don’t care either. I shove the door open, feeling dirty all over to involve her in anything.
“Hey, Hadrian,” several of the girls speak at once, waving to me with flirtatious smiles. All of these girls had a hand in bullying Sable at the football game last term, and they’re all lucky I need something from them, or I would tell them exactly what I think.
“Arabella,” I say her name and do my best not to look like the sound of it revolts me. “Can I speak to you for a minute?” Everything about her makes me sick, and I can’t help but imagine her on top of my ex-best friend.
There’s a chorus of oohs, and she smiles at her friends before walking over to me. “Yeah, of course, did Soren send you?” The question makes me so angry I nearly lose my cool, but the fact of the matter is he did not send me. I haven’t seen them together once.
“No, I wanted to ask you a question about Liliana.” Her expression sours entirely, and the openness she fakes falls off like a cheap mask.
“I’m not talking about her.” She tries to sound angry, but I swear there’s a little hint of fear beneath it.
“It’s not about her exactly, I guess.”
“Okay, fine, get it over with.” She shoots her friends a fake smile over her shoulder to prevent them from hearing what we’re talking about.
“Did you ever meet her parents?”
She scrunches up her face, like she thinks I’m stupid to ask. “Yeah, her mom, but her dad is dead or something.”What a friend.
“Do you remember her name or where she worked or anything?”
“I mean, she drove a pink Porsche. That’s all I know,” she insists. “Why does she owe you money too?” I want to ask more about that, but I don’t have time. I have an idea.
“Yeah, actually she does,” I answer, turning away from her and heading back to my room. My phone is in my hand as I call my dad’s private investigator. I’ve used him plenty of times before, and as long as I pay, he doesn’t involve my father.
“Hadrian,” he answers.
