“Go back to your room,” I whisper-seethed.
“I’m not letting you take the blame for it.”
Tate’s voice rose, and Isaiah bent down in front of Journey's face. “We have pull; you don’t. Listen to Cade and go back to your room.”
“No.”
He rolled his eyes. “Goddamnit. You are just like Gemma.”
“I take that as a compliment, thank you.”
We all fell silent when a deep voice—one I hadn’t heard yet—clamored through the room. “We just need to ask her some questions!”
Tate’s chair squeaked. “Again, at eleven on a school night? I don’t think so. Not unless you give me a good enough reason. The girl has been through a lot lately.”
Journey shifted beside me. My hand fell to her thigh, and her palm fell on top.
“Jesus, just tell him, Mark. It’s not like it’s a secret. Enough with the fucking power play.” There was a beat of silence, but then the same man spoke up again. “We’re here to question her about Sister Mary. She runs the—”
“The orphanage. Yes, I know who she is.”
Journey’s hand tightened on mine, and I flicked my eyes to Isaiah who was staring at me. There was a quick dooming feeling deep in my gut, and over the years, I’d learned to listen to it. Something wasn’t right.
“You’re familiar with her? When was the last time you’ve spoken to her?”
“Just a few weeks ago, when Journey started attending our school again. Why? Is something wrong?”
I held my breath, angling my head toward the door for a better listen.
“Yes. She is missing.”
Already suspected that.
“And you think Journey knows where she is? Why do you think that?”
“The other nuns led us here. They said Journey and Sister Mary were close. We’re hoping she can lead us in the right direction. There was blood at the scene. We believe that Sister Mary is in grave danger, and the Catholic Church is very, very concerned.” There was a long, heavy pause, and then, before I knew it, Journey was flying past me and running into Headmaster Ellison’s office with Isaiah and me trailing closely behind.