Page 108 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

He used to starve us a lot. I know I would see things when I was starving. Dehydrated. I would get sick and curl up with fevers that would leave me weak as a kitten, dried vomit all over me.

There were times he’d bring us food, and we’d get sick after. Drugged food or liquid. He would lean against the wall with his ankles crossed and just observe. He liked to hear us beg and cry.

Kestrel speaks for us, whispering the words. Telling them about these things. Whispering our fears that we can’t be a reliable witness. She then tells them about what she thinks we’ve seen.

“White, older, dark grey-silver hair. Larger size.”

She stays and answers the rest of the questions, and then backs off, letting me turn into Blaze’s arms and stare at his collarbone.

“You are braver than you know,” he whispers. “Strong, brave, wise.”

I look up, not able to see him clearly, but to see him enough. He means it. He really does believe it.

And because he does, I can almost believe it.

“Go to sleep, Merle, tomorrow we’ll explore this house and think about all the horrible things we need to think about.”

I dip my chin just a fraction.

The alphas get comfortable around us, but not everyone can fit on the bed, so Pix and Rolly go prowling the house.

I lay safe in my alpha’s arms and dream of the years I spent in a concrete cage, doing the bidding of a madman.

Sage

“Check that footage again!” Roseland snaps.

“Aaron, we have been over it a dozen times or more. There is nothing.”

“There is something. She saw something. We need to figure it out.” He leans over my shoulder, glaring at the computer, watching as I play the footage we’ve stolen from the intersection. His fingers bite into my shoulders, probably leaving bruises, but I don’t care.

Rolly rushes into the kitchen, holding his phone. “Did you bother to check this?”

“What?” Aaron turns, peering over Rolly’s shoulder.

“Look, you can see the moment she switches, the exact moment, you just need to compare the frames.”

Roseland takes the phone.

“See, Jay stops talking mid-word. That’s King asking if she’s okay. She mumbles, but her words are slurred, it’s like Jay’s still there but is being muffled, and then look, right there, see her expression turns. That’s Merle.”

“Okay, go back. What’s the time?”

“It looks like 3:23 pm.”

I rewind the footage a couple of minutes before that and watch it slowly. I can’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean that there is nothing there. There is something she can see. What are we missing?

I let out a frustrated grunt, get up, and open the fridge, pulling out a beer and whirl around to glare at the screen.

“What if it’s an object, not a person? What if we have no idea what we are looking for?” I suggest.

“We can figure this out, we just need to think like her,” King says.

“Okay, let’s write down all the people we see, all the things that we see.”

“What side of the car? Which way was she looking?”

“My way,” King says. “Because she was looking at a billboard before that.”