You Will Be Mine

  I never really thought about how it must be for Jake's family, but they're victims too. I hate that people see them as guilty by association.

  Zak continues, "I haven't been to the station for a couple of days, so I'm almost afraid to ask this, but are there any new developments?" His eyes look tired. This is taking a toll on him.

  I bite my lip. How much should I disclose? "Yeah."

  He arches his dark eyebrow, but he lets out a defeated breath. "Go on."

  I relay the series of events as gently as I can.

  "What?" Zak spits, his chest puffing. "He killed a cop? You're telling me my brother has killed a cop?"

  Zak drops his arms to his lap, like his body has lost the strength to support itself.

  "Lylah," he breathes. "I'm so sorry. I don't even know where to begin."

  "He's getting desperate. And impatient. But Valentine's Day is tomorrow. We'll soon find out what he has planned."

  Tomorrow is the anniversary of my parents' death too. I've barely had time to dwell on that.

  "Maybe I should make a last-ditch effort to get a hold of him? I don't know..."

  "I don't think he's going to listen to you, Zak."

  "Yeah," he says solemnly.

  I don't mention Jake's text. He's not going to listen to Zak if I handed over the number it came from and let Zak try getting through to him. I'm absolutely terrified knowing that Jake has nothing to lose. He's already cut his family out of his life in favor of murder.

  He's going to take this all the way.

  "Lylah, you okay?" Zak asks.

  "Sorry. My brain was miles away."

  "What's going on?"

  I really can't tell you.

  I tap my finger against my mug. "You know..."

  "You can talk to me. If you want to rage about Jake, you can. Nothing you can say is going to be new to me. I've thought it all too."

  I sigh. "I wish none of this had ever happened."

  "Yeah, me too."

  We sit in awkward silence for a few moments.

  Then I say, "Looks like they're getting ready to close." I nod toward the barista, who is starting to clean the machines. "We should go."

  "Would you like me to walk you home, or are you covered?"

  "The officers will get me home, so I'm fine. But thank you."

  Zak stands. "Please take care of yourself, Lylah. And remember, if you do want to talk, I'm here."

  "Thanks, Zak. You too."

  With a fleeting smile, he leaves, and the officers get out of their seats. I follow suit, leaving a tip by my mug.

  "Almost showtime, huh?" I say.

  The newest cop, Officer Harrison, I think, nods. "We'll keep you safe, Lylah."

  Let's hope.

  *

  I blow out a deep breath and stare at the building. I have to walk a little way up before I can head down an alleyway leading out the back. Has it always been this big? Although I know I'm not alone, I feel like I am. Dozens of police officers are...somewhere watching, along with Detective Lina and Detective Alexander, who I can see. It would be comforting if I could see the officers too, but obviously if I could, then so could Jake.

  Pinned to my hoodie is a broach. It's pretty, I guess, a black jeweled butterfly with its wings out wide. The design doesn't matter though, it's what's hidden inside that counts. The police couldn't get in to scope the place out, they couldn't have officers hiding inside, they couldn't set up cameras because this is Jake's chosen location, and he could be watching. But they could have a camera on me.

  Each step I take is being watched by a team in a van, parked on the side of the road. Detective Lina is watching too, on a phone.

  Limbo is at the end of a strip of clubs and bars. The street is always packed in the evenings, and tonight is no different. Hundreds of students mill around, walking from one to club to another, getting fresh air, talking, laughing. A group of girls cackle as they pass me, waiting to get into one of the clubs, clearly enjoying their night out. I used to be like them, carefree, drunk, and obnoxiously loud. They have no idea how lucky they are.

  Jake chose this location well. Not only is it familiar, but the crowded sidewalks and shadows from low lights will provide cover for him to blend into the throngs of people as he enters and exits the abandoned building.

  I turn down the long alleyway. There are fewer smokers around the back. The rear door to Limbo is set back from the building next door, so hopefully no one sees me go in. Not that anyone is paying any attention to me.

  I pinch my necklace between my fingers for luck, and I can feel the bulletproof vest underneath my thick winter coat. Detective Lina advised me to wear it as a precautionary measure, and I wasn't going to turn it down.

  Who knows what Jake's end game is.

  He could be watching from somewhere, so I don't hesitate. Twisting the handle, I push. Jake has unlocked it for me. I slip through the door and walk into the dark.

  The heavy door slams shut behind me, and my pulse skyrockets. It's almost pitch black in here, the only light coming from the illuminated Limbo sign spanning the side wall. My eyes flick around the open space. I am alone. And although there is a lot of outside noise, I can't hear anything but my racing pulse.

  "J-Jake?" I stammer.

  I take another step into the room. The bar is in front of me, slightly to the left. Lina told me to get behind it, but there's an overturned table blocking my way.

  Is Jake behind there?

  I take three more slow steps, but my shoe slides, and my foot almost slips out from underneath me. I catch myself on the bar, but my heart thuds so hard it hurts. In the dim light, I can't see what's slick on the floor. My phone has a flashlight, but I'm almost too scared to know.

  With my hands shaking so much I can practically hear my bones rattling, I pull my phone from my pocket and push the flashlight icon. I hold my breath and angle the beam downward.

  No.

  I recoil, slapping my hand over my mouth, but it does nothing to muffle my scream.

  It looks like a lump of meat, but I know better. It's a heart, and it's only when I realize what it is that the smell hits me. Metallic overtakes the old stench of beer.

  On the floor right above the heart, right below me, I can just make out the words, spelled in blood this time instead of magazine cutouts:

  YOUR HEART IS MINE.

  I turn on my heel and sprint to the door. With my phone still in my hand, I slam my forearms against the emergency bar on the fire door and practically fall out of the building.

  Detective Lina is there in an instant, gripping my shoulders. She saw it too, she was watching. There's a loud bang, and footsteps echo as the officers storm the place, but I am hardly aware of what's happening around me. It's like I have tunnel vision.

  I shake my head. "Jake's not there." Squeezing my fingers around my phone, I stutter, "I-It was a heart."

  Detective Lina doesn't say anything because she already knows. She closes her eyes for a beat and takes a calming breath. When she opens them again, she looks angry. "Let's get you in the car."

  Lina ushers me past the throngs of drunk people who are now paying a lot of attention to us. I tilt my head down, looking away from the many phone cameras aimed in our direction. Being shared all over social media doesn't bother me right now though; I almost stepped on my friend's heart.

  My chest heaves with thick sobs that shake my body. This won't end until we're all dead. I curl into Detective Lina, who has us power walking toward a car around the corner. Another officer starts crowd control, telling people to go inside.

  Detective Lina opens the door for me, and I slide in the back. She climbs in next to me as Detective Alexander seems to appear out of nowhere, getting behind the wheel.

  "Don't you need to take care of the crime scene?" I ask, wiping my eyes with my free hand.

  I wish I could un-see that blood, that note. Jake left that heart on the floor like it means nothing.

  My stomach rolls, threatening to bri
ng up my dinner and everything else I've eaten today.

  "My job right now is to stay with you. We don't know where Jake is or why this was his plan tonight. My team will handle the scene."

  That sounds like she thinks Jake has another plan. His real plan for tonight. She doesn't want to leave me alone.

  I look down at my phone as Detective Alexander makes a hasty exit from the parking lot. The flashlight is still on, and it's still on silent. I didn't want it going off while I was meeting Jake. I go to switch the light off, and that's when I see the text, almost dropping my phone. "He's sent me a message," I say, my voice hitching as I struggle to get control.

  I knew you would betray me.

  I hand Detective Lina the phone. She purses her lips.

  "Why?" I wail. "Why did he do that?"

  Both Lina and Alexander stay silent, but they exchange a look in the mirror.

  "What aren't you telling me? I think I have a right to know."

  Lina puts her hand over mine. "We think he was distracting us."

  My face falls. "He wanted us out of the way so he could get to who he wanted next?" How could we be so stupid? Charlotte, Sienna, and Chace are at home, waiting for us to get back with good news that Jake has been caught!

  "We need to get to the house. Call them! Detective Lina, I need my phone. I need to call Chace," I ramble, my voice getting higher and more desperate, trying to grab the phone back from her.

  "Calm down, Lylah," she says.

  "Don't tell me what to do! If Jake has gone after them, he has a massive head start while we were messing around in an empty club!"

  "Lylah, we thought about this. We figured it might be a possibility. There are four officers at the house. Don't worry, they'll be fine."

  "Shut up! Stop telling me we will be fine. We won't! We aren't! Nothing is fine! Everyone is dying, and you can't stop the killer. We're all going to die!"

  Oh my God, I can't breathe.

  My chest is tight, lungs screaming, begging for oxygen. My hand slams against the door handle, and I grip it tight, trying to steady myself.

  I gasp, but it's no use. I'm not getting any air.

  I'm going to die like this.

  Lina drops my phone and grabs my upper arms roughly. "Lylah, look at me. Concentrate on me. Breathe. Take a breath in. And out."

  I'm trying.

  My eyes sting with tears that roll freely down my cheeks. I tear at my coat, unbuttoning it, trying to get my lungs to work. Is this what suffocating is like?

  "Shh, Lylah, keep your eyes on me. Deep breath in. I know it's hard. Come on, deep breath in." Her voice is firm, filled with authority, but also soft.

  I stare at her, focusing on her dark-brown eyes. I follow her instructions.

  "Now out," she says.

  I exhale.

  "Repeat, Lylah. Keep watching me, keep breathing."

  It starts to work. I take a few more big gulps of air and the aching in my chest stops.

  "There, that's better. Are you okay now?" Lina asks.

  With wide eyes, I nod. But I'm not okay. "What...?"

  Oh God, it happened again. I'm losing it.

  "You had a panic attack."

  Yes, I did.

  I press my lips together. I don't want her to know how many panic attacks I've had over the past couple of years. "Oh."

  "Just try to stay calm. We'll be home soon." Lina lets go of me, and I sit back in the seat.

  I haven't had a full panic attack in over a year. I thought I was past this. I thought I was mentally strong enough to calm myself down before I had an attack. My hands find each other, and I grip them together, trying to stop myself shaking.

  Why can't I stay better? I have to be strong. There is no time for me to fall apart here.

  My heart is still going a million miles an hour. Shouldn't I feel better now that I can breathe again? I'm through it, but I can't shake the feeling of fear, uncertainty, and the knowledge that my life is so wildly out of my control.

  Closing my eyes, I count my breathing. In for five seconds. Out for five seconds. I concentrate on my lungs inflating and deflating until I can feel my heart slowing to its normal rate.

  I have to stay calm. We're on our way home, and my friends will be fine. Jake won't have gotten in. I pray that my friends are okay. Jake will be against four cops. Two outside the house and two inside. My friends are probably safer than anyone else in the neighborhood. Jake is smart and strong, but he's not smart or strong enough to take on four officers.

  I open my eyes. The house is just around the corner. As soon as I collapse in Chace's arms, I'll be fine.

  24

  Tuesday

  February 13

  Detective Alexander screeches to a halt outside the house. The police car parked out front is empty.

  Oh God, no.

  "What's going on?" I ask, but the detectives are already out of the car and running to the front door, hands on weapons.

  I can't move. My body has seized up, muscles locked in place.

  They're all dead. I know it. I can't go in and see that.

  We had everything in place. This plan should have worked, but Jake was smarter, and now my friends are dead. I should never have gone to that club. I close my eyes and bend over, laying my chest on my legs.

  I've lost everyone.

  I wait for the searing pain to come, but there's nothing but vast darkness, which leaves me hollow. If it wasn't for Chace, Sonny, Isaac, Sienna, and Charlotte, I wouldn't have gotten this far through school. They've been my family, and now they're gone.

  Someone hammers on the window. I don't move. I don't want to face reality. I want to stay huddled here forever.

  "Lylah!"

  Chace?

  I sit up, gripping the door handle with one hand and the passenger seat's headrest with the other. In the streetlight, perfect green eyes stare back at me through the window. He's here. He's okay.

  Then where is Jake?

  Frowning like he's a bit scared of me, Chace opens the car door and crouches down. "Are you okay?"

  Oh God, he's alive!

  I launch myself at him. Burying my head in his neck, I burst into tears. It's like an overflowing river I can no longer control. I sob, clinging to him like he's the only thing holding me together.

  "Jesus, it's okay, Lylah," he says, wrapping his strong arms around me. He kisses the side of my head and stands us both up. "You're okay."

  It's not me I was worried about. "I thought... Chace, I was so scared," I sob, pulling back so I can see him and make sure he's definitely all right. I run my hands over his face, making sure he's really here.

  "Detective Lina told us what happened at the club. He won't get you, Lylah, I promise."

  But I'm not so certain. He left a message. A message with a heart. A human heart from one of my friends. I avert my eyes, ashamed that I almost stepped on it.

  Cops run from the house, and Detective Lina is behind them, on the phone.

  "What's happening?" I ask.

  Chace steps to the side, now on high alert. "Have you found him?"

  Detective Alexander stops in front of us. "Chace, do you know where Charlotte is?"

  The color drains from his face. Chace turns white. "She was in her room."

  No.

  "He's got her, hasn't he?" I ask out loud, trembling.

  "What the hell!" Chace roars. "How is that possible with all officers around?"

  "The back door was open," the detective says.

  If Jake had gone out the back with Charlotte, the only place that the police are unable to park right outside because of the pedestrian zone, he could have made her jump the wall where it's not visible from the road where the police car was parked.

  "We locked all the doors!" Chace snaps. "The locks have been changed! How is he doing this? How is he getting inside?"

  "What if he messaged her?" I ask. "They're friends on Facebook. Maybe she left voluntarily."

  "She wouldn't do that," Chace repli
es.

  "I did. And she might have if she was blackmailed. Think about it, if he contacted her, she would know that tonight was a setup. This was the plan all along. He wanted to get to one of us, and he chose Charlotte."

  Chace frowns. "Then why not just message her? Why contact you?"

  "It's getting harder to get to us with the added security. But by diverting our attention..." I trail off. "He's sick. He probably got pleasure leaving that heart and threat for me to find."

  I reach into the car and grab my phone from the floor of the car where it dropped.

  "What are you two still doing out here?" Detective Lina says, shouting from the other side of the car. "You both need to get back inside. Now."

  I unlock my phone. "No. I need to message Jake and try to get Charlotte back."

  "No, you need to leave this to us."

  Because that's been going brilliantly so far.

  I ignore the detective and tap a message to Jake.

  Don't hurt her. What do we have do to make you stop?

  "Lylah, stop. Don't send that message," Detective Alexander steps toward me, but Chace blocks him with his shoulder.

  "Not happening, buddy," Chace says.

  "Lylah, Chace, inside now," Detective Lina snaps. "I'm going to need to see the message you sent."

  I zip past the car and shove my phone into her hand, not stopping to see her reaction before I march into the house. She can read it all she wants. If Jake is willing to text me, we should be taking advantage of that. Nothing else has worked so far.

  Detective Lina calls after me, her voice angry and disappointed, but I continue into the house. Unzipping my coat, I throw it on the sofa and rip off the Velcro on the bulletproof vest. I barge into the living room, dump the vest on the floor, and sit down in a huff. Sienna is alone on the chair, twirling her hair around her finger and staring into space.

  Detective Lina follows us inside and folds her arms. Chace flies in behind her, pushing past her to sit beside me. Besides the two detectives, there is one other officer in this room. He stayed behind when the other three left to search for Jake and Charlotte.

  "Say whatever you want, Detective, but someone has to do something." I reach out for my phone, and she drops it in my open hand.

  She shakes her head. "We'll just have to deal with whatever happens next."

  She's probably annoyed that I got in there and contacted him first. I don't care anymore. We've played it how the police want this whole time. Now Charlotte is missing. Something has to change.

  My phone beeps, and I drop it into my lap like it's as hot as lava.