Page 342 of Faking the Goal

A scar.

A jagged scar slices through his right eyebrow before disappearing toward his temple. Even in the grainy mugshot, it stands out immediately.

The sight of it pulls at something buried deep inside me, and before I know it, a new memory surfaces. I remember curling up in bed with Snowy clutched tightly against my chest because I was too frightened to sleep alone. Charlie had come into my room that night and tried to yank her away from me, but Snowy clawed across his face so hard that blood immediately poured from the cut above his eye. I can still remember him clutching his face, screaming, while I sat frozen on the bed, too terrified to move.

Every tiny hair on my arms stands on end.

I've seen that scar. That familiar scar... and I know one other person with a scar like that.

The man I thought was my friend.

The man who always looked out for me at the club.

The man who made me feel safe while Kentaro was away.

The man who drove me back to the hockey house only minutes before I was attacked.

The man who'd offered to stay until Kentaro got back...

Everything slams together so violently it feels as though the ground has disappeared beneath me. The blood drains from my face. My breath catches somewhere between my lungs and my throat.

"No..." I whisper, shaking my head even as every piece continues falling into place.

It can't be.

It can't...

My lips part before I can stop them.

"...Conrad?"

CHAPTER 43

TAYLOR

Conrad's name barely leaves my lips before I feel Kentaro go completely still beside me.

"Conrad?" he repeats, turning toward me so quickly that his free hand comes up to my face, gently cupping my cheek until I have no choice but to look at him. His eyes search mine frantically, widening with equal parts disbelief and fury. "Trouble..." His voice is careful now, almost afraid of the answer he's about to hear. "Are you sure?"

I swallow against the tightness in my throat.

My fingers tighten around his.

"I know that scar," I whisper, my voice trembling so badly it barely sounds like mine. "I've seen it hundreds of times."

Kentaro slowly takes the photograph from my trembling hands.

His eyes sweep over the boy's face before stopping at the scar slashing through his right eyebrow.

I watch the exact moment recognition crashes into him.

The color drains from his face.

"...Fuck," he breathes, his jaw tightening so hard a muscle jumps beneath his skin. His gaze flicks from the photograph to me, horror and rage colliding in his eyes.

"It was him..." His voice cracks. He stares at it for another long second before dragging a hand over his face. "It was him all along."

Detective Matthews remains quiet for a long moment before he reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulls out a small notebook, his pen hovering over the page before he finally looks back at me.