Talk To Me

Chapter seventeen

Present

"Great," Oliver scoffed, lifting his arms in the air.

Mark lifted his head from his palms. "What?"

"Leah left yet again." Oliver stood up from the couch.

"Did she say anything?" Mark followed his friend's action.

"She has a plan, and we need to listen to her." Oliver took out his phone from his jeans pocket. "That doesn't sound reassuring to me. How do I put that place on my phone?" He knitted his eyebrows.

"I already did." Mark swayed his phone in front of Oliver. "Are we ready?" He stepped toward the door.

Oliver paced back and forth. "This is beyond fuck up, Mark. I don't trust the so-called plan as she explained nothing at this point."

"It's clear Lily is in trouble. What more do you need?" Mark bent down to put his sneakers on.

"Yeah, I get that." Oliver took his black coat from the rack. "But it seems Leah cares just about the girl she didn't even ask about our dad."

"Perhaps saving Lily is more urgent than chatting about your dad." Mark opened the apartment door. "You are acting very weird, Oliver, even for you. "

"This whole situation is weird," Oliver scoffed and walked through the open doorway.

Mark followed Oliver, and both men climbed downstairs. The navigation system instructed them to turn left as the guys passed the Pine Hill Cemetery, and Mark speeded off to the appointed direction.

"What exactly is bothering you?" Mark asked, glancing between Oliver and the dark road in front of him.

"Everything." Oliver rubbed the back of his neck.

"Are you afraid we can't take the guy out or something?"

"Define 'take out', Mark." Mark shrugged his shoulders. "I'm more afraid of what I'm going to do to him when I see him. I still think we need to call the cops. We just need a valid story. And if—when we save Lily she could help us bring everything to the light."

"Okay. We can agree that we are not killing this guy. Right, Oly?"

"No promises." Oliver lifted his palms from his knees. "And don't call me O—"

"Oly," Mark finished Oliver's sentence. "We're talking about human life, he might be a scumbag, but still we can't just stoop to their level." Mark turned the steering wheel to the left side.

The car became darker as the guys left the city lights behind them. Tall trees appeared on the left side of the asphalt road. Mark switched on the fog lights. He cracked the driver's window and lit the cigarette. The car passed a few dark houses on the right side of the road.

"Might be?" Oliver asked. "He raped and killed my sister, there is no question he is a scumbag as you said."

Mark's eyebrows shot up. "Raped?" He glanced at Oliver. "Did Leah tell you that?"

"Shit," Oliver cursed under his nose. "She didn't tell me the coroner did—"

"You knew this entire time!" Mark gripped the steering wheel with his left hand. "And you didn't tell me."

"I felt that there is no need for you to know everything," Oliver explained. Mark scoffed and inhaled a deep breath of tobacco. "Her death devastated you, Mark. After they found her, dad and I decided not to tell anyone all the details. I was trying to protect you."

"What else did the coroner say?" Mark tensed his jaw.

"They cracked her eardrum. My best guess it was because of the punch to her head. Her wrists and ankles had bruises, probably from some sort of binding—"