Chapter Two

By the time I leave the office, all we’ve managed to find out is that the girl, the victim, is 19-year-old Cecily Ramos from Weston, Missouri. 
She is currently enrolled in and up until last week had been attending classes at UNC.
So far, all we have is that he binds their hands and feet, and covers their mouth with duct tape-likely so that they can’t scream for help.
Her tox screen showed no evidence of her having any drugs, alcohol or paralytics in her system.
She was dumped in a ditch off of a rural mountain road.
She had been stripped naked, bathed-all traces of DNA erased-left wearing nothing but a pair of black stilettos.
What the significance of the heels are, if there even is one, we aren’t sure of yet.
There is evidence of vaginal tearing, but again? Whether the sex was consensual or not is yet to be determined.
But, given the extent of the beating that she took, resulting in a fractured jaw, orbital bone, fracture to the back of her skull, fractured ulna, 4 broken ribs and numerous cuts and bruises, I’d hazard a guess that the sex was not consensual.
Closing my front door, I barely register locking it behind me before heading straight for my bedroom, exhaustion hitting me so hard that I can’t even bring myself to remove my clothes or shoes. 
Instead, I belly flop down onto the blanket covered mattress, asleep before I even make it to my pillow.
Two hours later, the ignorant sound of a blaring car horn repeatedly going off barely manages to pull me from the deep sleep that I’d fallen into.
Slapping my hand against the screen of my cell, I silence the alarm and bury my face back in the blankets, determined to get a few more hours of sleep.
“Fuck,” I groan, rolling over onto my back, my entire being wanting nothing more than to stay right here and sleep but part of the job means going to college classes that I don’t really need and turning in assignments that I’m already behind on, considering that I started mid-semester and won’t be able to catch up on everything, even if I were actually attending for a grade.
I make it to the lecture room just before the professor closes the door. 
Once it’s closed, you’re locked out until the lecture is over.
I take the last empty seat in the back row, surprised to find my brother, Boston sitting there with a brow quirked up in curiosity.
I don’t really know what to think or how to feel and I don’t have time to dwell on it before he starts in on me.
“You look like shit, bro!” He whispers from behind his hand, trying to be stealthy. As if anyone is paying us any mind. “And what the hell? We haven’t seen or heard from you over the last four years and then what? You just up and decide one day to go to college mid-semester?” Casting him a sideways glare, I try to get him to grasp that I can’t get into it with him. 
Not here. 
Not now. 
But either he’s too pissed to pick up what I’m putting down, or too much time has passed because he just keeps on, by asking again, “What are you doing here, Jax?”
“Will you please, just…I can’t discuss it… here.” I bite out the last word as I glance around the room, hoping that we haven’t caught anyone’s attention and that he will just drop it.
At least for now.
But I should have known better.
“I just don’t get it. What happened, man? I thought everything was going good, ya know? I mean, yeah, you had to move out of Lincoln’s place but you just completely disappeared.”
When I don’t say anything, instead clenching my jaws to keep from throttling him, he continues, “You don’t come by or call any of us anymore. Not even Dad, which is really fucked up.”
He just stares at me for a moment, the pulse in his temple throbbing, his jaw ticking as he gets worked up. 
And he doesn’t stop, from the sounds of it, he’s been waiting for this day. 
And I deserve his anger.
His hurt.
I deserve it all from all of them.
So, I just brace myself for the next blow when he opens his mouth and continues, “But you know what really hurts? We were tight and we have always had your back. No matter what, with no questions asked. Hell, you are literally a part of us and for the last four years—Fuck! It’s felt like a piece of us has been missing.”
Bos grabs his things, gets up and storms out of the lecture hall, ignoring the protests of the professor as he goes.
Even while telling myself it’s not out of guilt but necessity, I take thorough notes, making sure to write down everything the professor says, regardless of how minute it may seem.
I do this for every single lecture that I attend, continuing to be in denial about my true intentions behind paying attention and actually trying, even when I know there’s no hope in catching up or point in trying, since it’s all a farce anyway.
But even with my mind elsewhere after what happened earlier, when a tinkling voice asks about a name that I’ve become very familiar with since just last night, my head instantly whips in that direction, trying to find the person asking about Cecily Ramos.
“You know Cecily Ramos?” I ask, going up to a tiny blonde with her back to me.
“Huh? What?” She asks, turning around and giving me my first look at the girl.
Her eyes widen when she sees me, a beautiful smile lighting up her face.
“Cecily Ramos? You know her?” I ask again.
“Oh,” she says, deflating slightly but then continuing, recovering. “Sorry, yes. Cecily is my friend and I haven’t seen her since last week. I’m worried about her.”
“I would be worried, too,” I say, trying to not seem like a cop. “Do you know if she’s been reported as missing?”
Her brows furrow in confusion, her head tilting slightly, “No. Should I go to the police?”
“I probably would,” I say with a shrug. “Do you know who she was with last or where she was at? Anything?”
“Umm…” she says, suddenly seeming incredibly unsure. “She had a sort of…date…I guess you could say.”
“A date?” I ask, she nods but says nothing more. “What kind of date exactly?”
She looks around us, looking everywhere but at me then says, “the *sex* kind”, whispering the word sex. “I don’t know if I can go to the cops.”
“Why? Are you one too or something?”
She shrugs her shoulders in a noncommittal gesture but says nothing, still avoiding eye contact.
“Well, if I were her, whether I was doing shady work or not, I would want someone to report me. Otherwise, no one would even know I was missing.” Then, moving to leave, I cup her shoulder and murmur, “Just think about it.”
I leave the girl to think on my suggestion and send a text to Morris letting him know I got an update and let him I’m coming in.
He tells me to stay out and finish out my day *Like a normal college kid.*
With a sigh and roll of my eyes, I continue on my way, buzzing with the need to get to work instead of being here.
Even with the information from the girl on a continuous loop in my head, I keep on with taking thorough notes and once my last lecture lets out, I finally admit to myself the truth behind my actions as I pull out my phone and take a picture of each set of notes and along with a text, I forward the images. 

**Jackson: not sure of what all classes you have but I here are some notes for each of the the classes that I had today…not sure if you’re in any of them but...**

I leave the message open ended and stare at the screen for a few moments, waiting for a response but when one doesn’t come, I shake my head.
I know that it’s something small and stupid,  but I was hoping that maybe, somehow, I could use it to start mending fences.
Seeing Bos today made me realize how much I’ve missed him, missed all of them.
“What are you doing?” I ask myself, frustrated and feeling stupid for feeling vulnerable. “Does it really matter whether he’s mad at you or not? You walked away and left them all behind. You made your bed, now you gotta sleep in it.”
I go straight from school to work, desperate for a distraction.
Work has been my only constant over the last four years. 
When the quiet has been too loud and the loneliness has been too much, work has filled that silence, that void.
When I would start feeling sorry for myself or regrets from the past would resurface, instead of drowning myself in a bottle or a woman, I'd drown myself in work instead.
So, once more, that’s where I go to drown out the sound of anger that was evident in Bos’s voice and the unmistakable look of hurt and betrayal that I’d found staring back at me as he laid into me earlier today.