Bryce's arm tightened around me and he shifted, just slightly, so that Chantal needed to step back unless she wanted to be in my face instead. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes. Chantal registered the movement and masked her irritation quickly, but everyone else seemed to be oblivious.
Another lull settled over our group when I looked up and realized that their eyes were on us, on Bryce, myself, and Corrigan.
In that moment, I remembered with a chill what the second note had read.
Queen of Geneva disregarded her lowly subjects. To the grave they went and more to come.
In that moment, I realized—more than at any other time—I held the crown and reigned with Bryce and Corrigan at my elbow.
Mandy spoke up, and it took a moment before I realized that she addressed me, "So what now?"
"What?" I bristled, irritated at the sudden proclamation of my power. I felt the full force in that moment and I knew that I didn't want it. I didn't want any of it. I wanted Bryce. I wanted Corrigan. And I wanted to be left alone.
That's all I wanted.
And I wanted Leisha's murderer to fry.
Bryce spoke up for me, "If no one's told us what to do, we should all just leave. Go to the Diner or something."
"Or go and get drunk," Corrigan commented, no joke.
"That too." Bryce faintly grinned at him.
Evans spoke up, "Ya'll can come over to my place. My parents aren't getting back from their trip until tomorrow. We could have one more todo dia festival."
Becky grinned ruefully, "Two girls are dead and we're going to party?"
"Do you really care? You didn't even know them," Harris threw back at her.
Becky shrugged, uncomfortable, as she glanced over her shoulder to Carlos, their hands had been entwined, but they broke free at that moment.
What the hell?
"Yeah, well, we care," Corrigan said sharply. "So show some respect."
Harris straightened abruptly and fell silent. He looked away.
Becky sobered instantly.
"But…" Corrigan heaved a sigh. "Bryce is right. There's nothing that we can do and it's not like we're going to have school. I'm not going to some mandatory peace talk and listen to the sheriff talk about buddy systems."
Chet asked, "So what?"
"I don't know. Go to the Diner." Corrigan shrugged and pulled me from Bryce. He started walking back towards the parking lot and Bryce followed.
It was an odd moment and an odd feeling.
As we crossed the separation again, I noticed that too many watched as we left. Pensive, desperation, hysteria, somber, and bitterness filled so many of their eyes as they watched us walk across and get into Bryce's car.
I'd never noticed the apparent social isolation before, not during a crowded hallway as students buzzed from locker to locker, but in that moment…I saw it all too clear and I realized what had been invisible became visible. And another chill upon so many slammed over me. The social hierarchy may have reared its ugly head to create a deadly monster.
Chapter 24
Everyone else was told to go to the Diner, but our crew went to my home. We hadn't been there long when the doorbell rang. I waited, my breath suspended, but I wasn't sure why. I hadn't had much luck with people coming over to my home lately.
Sighing, I opened the door, grateful as the rest stayed in the kitchen when I found myself face to face with Officer Sheila. She was alone, no hatred-spewing partner.
"Hi," I said tightly as Sheila nodded, gravely.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
I nodded and shut the door behind as I moved outside.
Sheila lounged on the porch railing as I sat in one of the wicker chairs. "Quite a morning, huh?"
I just waited. She was here for a reason and I knew it.
Sheila took a deep breath and told me, flat, "He left another note for you. This time, we got it first without your friends' prints all over it."
I readied myself.
Sheila added, promptly, "And it's got your boy's prints on it."
"My boy? I have a lot of boys."
"Not the boyfriend. The sidekick."
I laughed and shook my head, "Corrigan would never call himself a sidekick. You're lucky he didn't hear you or you'd probably come home to a trashed garage or something."
"He gets like that, huh? He's got a temper?"
I bared my teeth, "You know he does because of his history. Yes, Corrigan can do some stupid crap, but there's no way you're going to tell me that he's the psycho stalker."
"Funny," Sheila remarked, emotionless. "I never said that at all. You did."
"It was implied and I'm not hearing any more of it."
"What if he is?" she pressed, heartless. "What if your boy in there is the monster who's killed two girls? Miss Summers was raped. Miss Umbridge was not. Maybe your boy had already been appeased. He's got his fair share of girls, doesn't he? Makes you wonder—why Leisha Summers? Why rape her and not her friend?"
"Corrigan couldn't have done anything that night. He was with Bryce."
"Are you sure? They left the party, didn't they? Are you sure Corrigan was with his buddy the entire time? He could've disappeared for a few moments. It doesn't take long to bash a girl in, move her body, and rape her." She paused. "And he wasn't with you last night."
"He was with Logan, his girlfriend."
"Was he? He didn't arrive with her this morning, did he?"
The arrow found its target. And I had had enough as I lashed back, "You've got two girls that are dead now, three notes, and you've got nothing if you're going after my friend. Some loser did this who wants to think they're high and mighty. Even I can get that and I'm not especially smart about this cold blooded—"
"I think you're incredibly smart and I think you know exactly what kind of person would do something like this. I've been questioning students. You've got the rep for being cold blooded and it makes me wonder—the three of you are real tight. You're sleeping with Scout. Maybe Raimler wants in on that action. Maybe you want him in on that action. Maybe this whole thing was a set-up and all three of you are in on it? Are you?"
"For your information," I said quietly, lethal. "If I wanted to sleep with Corrigan, I would've by now. I'm sure you also got that information from your 'questioning.' I do what I want and when I want. I don't exactly bend to rules. And I will tell you for the last time, Corrigan had nothing to do with this and none of us are in on this sick perverse game."
"But you are quite sick and perverse, aren't you?" Sheila raided my space. "You taunt other students. You taunt teachers. You skip whenever you want. You screw your boyfriend while you're screwing your neighbor. Tell me this, ever done a threesome? How about with your top dogs in there? They're both good looking. The best 'specimens' in school, as one girl told me. A girl with your morals, I'd be surprised if you hadn't."
The wall slammed back in place and I moved away, with ice in my veins and coldness shining from my eyes, "You can think all you want."
"I'm the police, honey. I can make your life hell."
"You have no right and no reason."
"I've got a note with your buddy's prints and I've got the subject that the note's addressed to protecting said suspect. I've got enough for a good solid theory."
Bait. Throw the line. Wait. And let the fish get caught before reeling them in. It's how I played the game and I'd just played hers. Enough was enough and I asked, "The notes addressed to me? I'd like to see it. It's mine, isn't it?"
"It's evidence and therefore ours, but I made a copy for you."
"Can I have it?"
Her hands were empty.
"I don't have it here. If you want it, you gotta come to the station to get it." Sheila smiled brightly and falsely. "Have a good day, Sheldon."
"You switched roles? Thought maybe you'd try your hand at being the 'bad' cop instead of the 'good' cop?" I taunted.
Sheila sighed abruptly and threw back, impatient, "No, Sheldon! This isn't a goddamn game. This is real and more girls are going to die. You were friends with both of them and all four notes are addressed to you. This bastard is obsessed with you and those two guys in there are in love with you. Maybe one of them is platonic, but what if he's not? I find it pretty suspect that a girl like you, who looks like you, and screws like you would make it easy for a guy to purely feel 'friendly-only' with you. I'm a cop, Sheldon. I see the lowest of the low and people can be like that."
I held firm and taunted, coldly, "What a compliment. A girl that 'looks like you, screws like you.' If that isn't painting it pretty, then I don't know what is."
Sheila snorted shrewdly, "Please. You might've deserved to have some parenting, but you've gone past where you should be. You should be a nice little girl who goes to school, worries about getting good grades, and holds hand with her nice popular boyfriend. That's not you and some pretty rotten things must've happened to put you were you are."
"I'm already in therapy. Thanks, though, Officer Patterson," I dismissed and stood up. "I'll tell Corrigan the next time we're having a threesome that maybe he should let up on his psychotic ways."
"If you want the note, come to the station."
"And subject myself to another round of harassment? Sure. Put me down for this afternoon…that's if I'm not flat on my back."
Sheila grinned and shook her head. "I can see why you're called cold blooded, but if this is you running from a stalker, I almost feel for the bastard when he goes against you."
I quirked an eyebrow.
Sheila concluded, a metaphoric hat in hand, "You think good when you're pushed. That's good, Sheldon. Very very good and that's what's going to keep you alive, because he's not going to expect it. Look, between you and me, I don't think it's your boy in there. If it was, he wouldn't be going how he is to scare you. He'd do it worse and I don't want to think that sick. But this stalker, he's trying to scare you. And I'm thinking the more you scare, the more mad you are, and the more ruthless you'll get. That's what you need to survive this nightmare, Sheldon."
"Is that why you said those things today?" I asked, tensely, cautious.
"I needed to know. I needed to push you first and see what you weren't going to say. I read it and I'll back off—for now."
She left after that and I took a moment to cool down. I found the guys playing video games in the media room. Logan was curled with a blanket on the couch. They all watched me as I moved downstairs, but when I didn't say anything, neither did they. They went back to playing video games until Corrigan's phone started ringing. The first call was Chet. The second was Holster. The third was Harris. By the fourth and fifth, Bryce exclaimed, "Good god—what do they want?"
Corrigan glanced at me before he said, "They want to know what to do."
"Maybe we should have a party," I offered, thinking it wasn't the worst idea. At their blank looks, I added, "Seriously. What would it hurt anymore? The freak wants us scared. I say screw it and we should just have fun. Hell, let's do it here."
"Lew? Hunstville? Those guys invited?" Corrigan asked instead. "You know that Carlos is screwing Lew, right? That's the dude that your friend was into."
Maybe I was self-destructive because I replied, "I think we should invite everyone in our class. Teddy. The Bartons. Even Mena. Let's hash out who this loser is tonight, here, while everyone's here. And, trust me, I'll deal with Carlos later."
Bryce straightened.
Corrigan flashed a smile, "Seriously? We could make a game out of it. Like Mafia or Clue or something. Who's the Killer?" He turned to Logan, who'd been quiet the entire time, "How about it, honey? Are you up for a game of Who's the Killer?"
"I think….maybe I shouldn't say what I think," Logan said wisely and looked at me. "Sheldon's the one who's offering her home up. I, for one, will feel safer at my home."
"That's the problem. Girls who are alone are his prey. I say we shouldn't be alone," I argued.
Logan drew herself upright, thought about it, and nodded reluctantly, "Okay. I'm staying with you at all times, Corrigan."
Corrigan bounced to her couch and draped an arm around her shoulders, "Honey, we're not going to be mingling. We're going to be in a guest bedroom—all night long."
"Fine. As long as it's locked," she said tensely and burrowed into his shelter.
"Sweet." Corrigan withdrew abruptly and said, "I'm going to start passing the word." He was up and out the door, leaving a bereft girlfriend.
Bryce ignored Logan's presence and sighed, "This is stupid."
"I know," I said simply. "I'm tired and I'm not waiting anymore. If he's as obsessed as we think, he'll be here tonight. I'm going to hunt him tonight."
"He's crazy and illogical. You can't outwit a person like that. He's going to know the real reason for this party."
"No. No, he won't." I hadn't gotten the fourth note. He wouldn't know that I knew of it. "He won't know at all because he doesn't know me."
Logan sighed and curled back into a ball, blanket pulled over her head.
I stood up and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. I wasn't surprised when Bryce followed and shut the door behind him. He leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest, "So is this what you're going to do?"
"Bryce." I hung my head. Exhausted.
"No. What'd that cop say to you? This came from left field."
"Why do you care?" I nearly whispered as I lay down and curled underneath the blankets.
"I care because this guy is psycho and he's obsessed with you. I love you. I'm not going to stand back and let you hand yourself over to him," Bryce said fiercely.
I smiled, softly, "You think that's what I'm doing? And it feels nice—to hear you say it."
He stopped abruptly and softened, "I heard you last night, you know. You thought I was falling asleep."
I grimaced, slightly, but rolled onto my stomach and burrowed my head under the pillow.
"Hiding's not going to erase what you said," Bryce said quietly and I heard the lock click into place. A moment later the bed dipped underneath his weight and Bryce moved on top of me, but he held most of his weight from me. He tucked his chin into the crook of my shoulder and kissed my cheek, "This is my favorite position."
"Shut up," I laughed.
He leaned over me and got in my face. "What'd that cop say?"
He had me trapped, pinned between his two arms, so I surrendered and confessed, "He left another note for me."
"Oh." A moment later, "What'd it say?"
"I have to go to the police station to get it." I pushed him off and sat up again. "And she said a lot of crap about how it's Corrigan because his prints were on the note. That's all."
"That's all!?" Bryce followed me into the bathroom, incredulous. "That's a lot."
"She just wanted to mess with my head. It's not Corrigan—" I stopped at the look on his face. "Right? It's not Corrigan."
Bryce blinked.
"Bryce!"
"Sorry." He snapped back to attention. "No, of course, it's not Corrigan. But…the thought has some merit. I mean…Corrigan must've touched that note somehow. So…someone would have to follow him around, pick up a blank piece of paper that he had touched and that's all it would take."
"That could be anyone."
"Corrigan doesn't go to classes, so that narrows the search. And he didn't take notes when we were handcuffed. So…what else has