“I had a sister.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a hard swallow. “Chandler.”
I closed my eyes, the puzzle pieces snapping into place. All the research I’d done on her came rushing back. The child endangerment charges against her mother. The photos from grade school. Her brother.
They looked familiar when I first saw their photos.
Now I knew why.
Because Chandler was Blake’s sister.
And Pierson Meadows was Blake.
“I haven’t seen her in over twenty years, but I haven’t given up hope of finding her.”
I could respect that. But that still didn’t explain the brand. Or anything else.
“What did you mean when you said it was a mark of ownership?” I gestured toward his chest. “Where did you get it?”
“We went hungry a lot. During the school year, we managed, even if we only got one meal a day. But during the summer, we didn’t have that. So I tried to find food any way I could. Rummaging through dumpsters. Sneaking into people’s homes. Stealing from convenience stores. Which is how I met Isaac.”
“Isaac?”
“The one who gave me this.” He pointed to his chest. “I tried not to shoplift at the same store twice. But there were only so many places within a few-mile radius. Unfortunately, one of the stores figured out what I was doing and stopped me, threatening to call the police. But Isaac was there and stepped in. Paid for everything I’d taken. Invited Chandler and me to his house for dinner.”
My stomach sank. I already sensed where this was going.
“I knew it was a bad idea. But we were so hungry. There’s this pain in your body from hunger that’s unlike anything I’d experienced before. Or since. Like your body is physically eating away at itself. I remember thinking if he had a thing for teenage boys, I’d let him do whatever he wanted if it meant my sister didn’t have to go hungry.”
“Jesus,” I exhaled.
I may have had a rough childhood and adolescence, but I was always fed. Always had a bed to sleep in at night.
“That’s how desperate I was,” Blake explained. “I’d do anything for one decent meal. Or so I thought.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing at first. He did as he promised. Cooked us dinner. I still remember it. He made a feast fit for a kid. Cheeseburgers. Fries. Hot dogs. Pizza. Ice cream. Soda.” He averted his gaze. “To this day, I still can’t eat any of that stuff.”
“When did things go…south?” I asked, trying to give him space to tell his story but also needing him to hurry so I could figure out where Ariana was.
“I don’t know the exact timeline. It was probably a few days later when we finally woke up.”
“Woke up?”
“I remember wondering why Isaac wasn’t eating anything. I figured he’d already eaten.”
“He drugged the food,” I exhaled.
“Yeah.”
“And when you woke up?”
“He claimed God spoke to him and chose me for redemption. That I was a sinner, and he needed to help me earn God’s forgiveness, or some shit. I don’t really know. I tried to block out that time. All I know is he twisted religion to justify the abuse he put us through every fucking day. The things he did… The things we were forced to do…” He shook his head, his hands visibly shaking. “Sometimes I still hear the screams. In a twisted way, you wanted to hear screams.”
“Why?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Because it meant that person hadn’t lost their humanity yet. They hadn’t been brainwashed yet. They were still fighting. Still resisting. Even if it meant you’d only suffer more. There was one thing Isaac said a lot.”
“What’s that?”
