Page 133 of Pink Ink

I throw my hands up. “Fine. I saw a photo of that person in that room with the honeycomb ceiling, then an alumni book with the insignia, and in a shitload of other places. So I connected the dots and assumed they were linked.” Telling him I’m looking for information about my dad is a level of honesty I’m not prepared for when he’s kept so much from me. “Then I found a case where someone from Cresswell was institutionalized, and in his diary he was talking about a secret society. And tonight, Lawrence’s fashion choice led me there. It’s your… base, I assume.”

He doesn’t confirm, but the look in his eyes tells me all I need to know.

I give him an accusatory once-over. “Now, how and why are you involved with them?”

“My father is one of the leaders, and I frequently kill for them,” he answers without hesitation.

If you were going to tell a girl you’re an assassin, you’d think you’d spend at least a solid two seconds debating whether or not it’s a good idea to answer.

“The kills I investigated—were they carried out forthem?” I don’t know what to call a secret society that dabbles in wide-scale political corruption and murder.

“I don’t think you need me to respond to that one. You already know the answer.”

The back of my neck prickles as I recall the photo of my dad in front of the beehive room, and the tears in Mom’s eyes as Dad was lowered into the ground.

“Where were you on July 23, 2022?” It’s the day my father died.

Maddox stiffens for a fraction of a second before composing himself. “Mind if I consult my phone?”

I nod, blood rushing through my ears as I keep my full attention on his screen. What if Maddox is the reason Dad took his last breath? What would I do then?

I swallow, silently willing him to move faster when he opens his calendar and scrolls back several years. “In Australia for an event.” He shows me the entry where he left a week before my father’s death, then flew to England for an exhibition.

My breath of relief is short-lived.

“I’m not the only killer they have on payroll,” he adds. “Who is it that you’re asking me about?”

I think I’m going to need a stronger drink.

Once I tell him, there’s nothing about me that he won’t know. Every secret I have will be out in the open while he keeps who knows howmany. But if telling him is the only way for me to find out, then I’m willing to make that sacrifice.

“My… my father.” I wait for a reaction that he doesn’t give. “He studied at Cresswell University. He’s the reason why I’m here. I think he was in the Order, or connected somehow.”

“What’s his name?” His curiosity isn’t enough to mask the unmistakable hint of concern.

“Richard Talbot.”

Maddox’s eyes drop down to the floor, considering. It takes him a moment to answer. “What does he look like?”

“Light-brown hair, blue eyes, tall with broad shoulders.”

“Very specific. That really narrows it down.” His voice comes out monotone, but there’s a tilt at the edges of his lips.

I fight back the instinct to roll my eyes. Is it wrong for me to miss his banter? To feel special that he’s comfortable enough to take me here, let me in on a secret underworld while allowing his playful side to come out.

There’s no point showing him the photo I found under Mom’s bed. It’s too blurry and overexposed to make out his face. My shoulders sag. I’m not sure where this leads me.

My forehead wrinkles as I mull over the information I have about the Order.

“Have you…” I start, unsure how to ask the question. “I’m guessing not all of your kills are creative, and some were executionary.” I recall the victim with a bullet in his head and a honeycomb carved into his chest. Maddox might not have done it, but the society’s pattern is clear. His hesitant nod confirms it. “Some were made to look like an accident?”

Again, he cautiously tips his head. “Sometimes I’m given specifics on how the scene should look—accident, execution, or someone who disappears from the face of the earth.”

“Do you know how to make a car explode while it’s in use?” The police told us there was a leak and a damaged fuse.

“Vehicles aren’t my forte, so I couldn’t say I’d know the first thing when it comes to that. I find simple poison and freak accidents easier to execute.I’m aware there are a few mechanics and engineers within our ranks. But I’m unsure whether they’re killing for the Order. We’re kept apart for insurance purposes.”

My lips flatten. “You wouldn’t know what signs to look for?” If I knew, I could try to get my dad’s crime-scene photos to check if there was something amiss and the police didn’t notice.