The room falls silent.
"It's not going to explode, Lylah," Chace says quietly. "Look at what it says."
Charlotte's already dead. You shouldn't have turned me down.
"No," I whisper, rereading the message again and again. I see the words, but they don't seem real. Charlotte. He killed Charlotte. And he's trying to justify it! Charlotte is dead. But what does he mean by turning him down? Is he referring to when I denied his kiss last year or the fact that I didn't follow his orders to meet him alone tonight? I am numb. "When did Charlotte go to her room?" I ask my friends, passing the phone to Detective Lina, my voice breaking with emotion.
"What did it say, Lylah?" Chace asks.
"When?" I demand.
We've only been gone thirty minutes. Is that long enough to lure her out of the house, take her somewhere, and kill her? Maybe he's baiting me.
"Right after you left. She didn't want to wait up with us. We were tense, so she didn't want to hang out with us here in the living room. She wanted to go to her room, to her own space," Sienna explains. "Why? What did Jake say?"
Jake had thirty minutes. "He can't be far. He must have gotten Char out of the house right after I left." I pause, and Sienna looks at me expectantly. "Jake said she's already dead." My voice is hoarse, barely working as I stammer the words, still not believing them.
Sienna's face pales. "No."
"We don't know that's true. He's never told us before. He likes planting the seed, threatening, and leaving his victim's fate to be found," Chace says.
"Charlotte got a text before she went to her room," Sienna squeals. "Was that him? Could we have stopped this?"
Detective Lina shakes her head. "This is no one's fault."
Despite her insistence, I'm feeling pretty responsible right now. If I'd gone alone to the club like he asked, Charlotte...would probably still be with Jake. He never believed I would go alone, did he?
"Do we believe him?" I ask the detective.
She shrugs. "I want to say no. The timing is incredibly tight."
"You want to say no, but you're not actually saying it," Chace points out. "There's a difference." He pauses. "We should reply to him. Demand proof. I don't believe him, but I've underestimated him before."
I've had enough of seeing proof.
Detective Lina holds up her hands, my phone now being examined by Detective Alexander. "We need to take a step back and think this through."
"If there's a chance that Charlotte is still alive, we don't have much time. We need to act! Now!" I exclaim. "Detective Lina, come on!"
The two detectives make eye contact and have some sort of silent conversation. She nods at him, then turns to me. "You are not to send any messages that we haven't authorized. We need to get him to believe that he's won. He has to think we know there's no way we can get close to him. Feed his ego."
I nod. That I can do, even if it leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. I know what I need to send.
You're the one who holds all the power. I get that. The police can't end this. Only you can. Tell me how.
I show the detectives what I've typed, and when I get a curt nod, I hit send.
"Do you think he'll reply?" Chace asks.
"It's hard to tell," Detective Alexander says. "Some killers can't help themselves and others have more self-control over the impulse."
"So time will tell which type of psycho Jake is," I say.
Detective Lina gives me a sad smile. "Yes."
We wait. Minutes feel like hours. I can tell Jake has read the message, but he hasn't replied.
What is he thinking?
My lip is raw where I'm tugging it with my teeth.
I'll let you know.
My breath catches at his message.
"I'll let you know is all he's written," I say. "What does that mean? When will he let me know? And what will he let me know? What if he really has killed Charlotte?"
Detective Lina takes the phone.
"He's telling you he's in charge, Lylah. I expect he'll make contact again, but he'll make us wait," Detective Alexander explains. "That means if he hasn't already killed Charlotte like he claims, he's likely to keep her alive. She's his pawn."
"She's a person, not a pawn!" Sienna snaps.
She's our person, and I close my eyes, wishing and willing with all my might that she doesn't get killed.
25
Wednesday
February 14
I walk with a cop into the town, away from the university. We've parked at the end of a lot beside a corner cordoned off with tape and cones for roadwork on the asphalt. It's a frosty morning but the crisp air is refreshing. There are fewer students around, so I'm not getting as many stares. I mean, a lot of people still know me because of the damn media, but the farther from home I am, the less people seem to ogle.
It's been a full day since Charlotte vanished, and so far, we've heard nothing. Detective Alexander seems to think Jake's playing the long game; he's patient, so he can keep Charlotte without harming her. I don't care what anyone says, Charlotte is alive until I have proof otherwise. I have to believe that.
I just have to wait for him to make his next move.
Zak called me this morning after seeing footage of me leaving the club, upset after my failed meet-up with Jake. People and their smartphones suck! They're so quick to take a video of something juicy without a single thought of the person on the other side of the lens. The last thing I need is to go viral. I'm hoping I can go unnoticed today--well, as much as one can be unnoticed with constant police protection. Detective Alexander and two police officers he'd called in for additional protection are with me now. I'm not sure if I feel safer with them. Jake has a way of getting what he wants no matter the obstacle.
Besides, it's only right that Zak knows what's going on with Charlotte. So despite Detective Lina's recommendation to stay home, I'm meeting him. With three cops with me for protection, of course.
Riley doesn't like me seeing Zak. To Riley, Zak is guilty by association. But I managed to convince him to stay behind.
Chace wasn't thrilled about me going either, but he's at home with a terrified Sienna, who is convinced she's next.
Maybe that's why I feel a bit safer: I'm pretty sure he's saving me for last.
And today is Valentine's Day.
Today is the day.
The day that has so much tragic history for me and, if I'm right, promises a tragic present.
Zak doesn't know the town as well as I do, so we're meeting in a small Starbucks instead of somewhere more remote.
I spot him as soon as I walk through the door. He's in the far corner, tapping his cup and looking around. I can tell he's uncomfortable from his body language. He watches people like he's trying to figure out if they're talking about him. It's a feeling I know all too well.
It's still early, so it hasn't been open long, but there are a few people in here already. Couples starting their day with a coffee, cuddled up and in love.
Did Mom and Dad plan to share coffee together at the hotel before venturing out? Before they were killed?
As I approach, he gives me a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
I take a seat, and he pushes a drink in front of me. I take a sip. A latte. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. How are you?"
Blowing out a breath, I reply, "I don't know. Jake has Charlotte. The detectives won't let me text him again."
His back stiffens. "You're in contact with him?"
"Um..." I shift in my seat. Damn it. The cops are out of earshot, but they watch us like hawks. "Yes. God, I'm sorry, Zak. If I thought it would have done any good I would have told you sooner, I promise. I knew I should have messaged you after what happened yesterday. You have a right to know what is happening with your brother."
He rubs his palms over his face and groans. "Why didn't the damn cops tell me?" He drops his hands and looks up. "I want to know everything, Lylah. This isn't just about you and your friends. He tried to
jump me too. And he's my brother."
"I remember," I say gently, then recount last night's events. There is a tiny red line on the side of his head from Jake's attack. He should know everything. "Okay. So I texted him again, asking him to let Charlotte go. To end all this. But he said she's... He said that's she's already dead," I finish.
"My God, this keeps getting worse."
It does. Right at the start of this, I was sure the cops would have Jake by now. But I feel like we're in a dark tunnel, and it just keeps getting longer.
"Yeah. I'm holding on to hope though. If Jake had killed her like he said, he would have left her body somewhere for us to find. That's what happened before. And there hasn't been a body, so I think that she's still alive somewhere. I have to think that."
Zak shakes his head sadly. "I can't believe the killer is the same person I grew up with. I keep thinking back over our childhood and trying to remember any clue that Jake could be capable of murder. Anything that could have alerted me to this so I could have stopped it before it started."
"There's nothing you could have done. It's not like he told you what he was going to do, Zak. How could you possibly have known?"
"My dad, sister, and I have lived with him for our whole lives--how could we not know, Lylah? I knew that he liked you a lot more than you liked him, and he was angry about the kiss, but there was nothing to suggest he would want revenge."
"How angry was he? When it happened, I told him I didn't think of him like that, and he seemed disappointed, but not homicidal."
"He came home at Easter, so a couple months after that happened. We were out one night, and he got drunk. I don't remember a lot of that night. I wasn't exactly sober. But he was rambling about how you didn't know what you were missing...or you didn't know how good you two would be together until it was too late. I didn't think much of it at the time, but he obviously wasn't over it then. If I thought for a second too late meant he was going to kill anyone in the future, I would have spoken up. I would have told someone. I would have stopped him. I know there's a lot of shit out there about how me and Sarah are in on it, but that's not true. She can't even be here she's so upset."
"Zak, you don't have to explain. Did Jake say anything else about us?"
"Not that I can remember," he answers. "I've spoken to everyone else who he might have had contact with, and they can't remember anything he said that would have caused concern either."
I take a sip of my latte. "I keep thinking back to the day he left. I was in their dorm, hanging out with Sienna and Isaac. Jake packed up his room and although we usually talked, he barely looked at me. At the time, I figured he was too busy to have a real conversation, but now..."
Now I examine everything that happened with Jake.
"Hindsight, I guess ," Zak says.
I give him a smile that seems to relax him a bit more. Chace and Sienna still won't talk to him, and he is right--a large portion of the student body seems to think he's in on it. I've seen the comments on Facebook, heard the rumors circulating. Just like they think me and Chace somehow cheated on Jake.
Speculation and frivolous gossip can ruin lives.
"Detective Lina doesn't want any of us to contact Jake."
He lifts his eyebrow. "And what do you think?"
"I think we have to try to get through to him. It's the only chance we have of getting him to stop."
"There's nothing I want to say to him, ever again actually, but if it could help, I would try." He leans in. "I've tried contacting him. Does he have a new number?"
I nod. "It came from a number I didn't recognize." His eyes flick to the officers behind me. They're talking among themselves and watching the general area.
"I'll text it to you. Detective Lina said we have to make Jake feel like he's already won. He has to think we know there's nothing we can do to stop him, that he's smarter than us and in control."
Zak scowls. "We have to pretend he's a criminal mastermind and we're beneath him?"
"Criminal mastermind is pretty accurate actually," I mutter. "It's part of the game, Zak."
"Game?" His voice is clipped, angry.
"To him! I'm really not explaining this well, am I?"
His face softens and he holds up his hands. "Sorry. This is all so...overwhelming. I understand what you're saying, but I'm not going to pretend he's some hero."
"I hated it too. But if it leads to his capture, keeps Charlotte safe, it's worth it," I tell him.
"Is there anything I can do?" Zak puts his head in his hands. "I feel so useless."
"We all feel like that, so you're not alone. Jake has all of the power, so I doubt there's anything we can do. Anytime we've tried to make a move, it's backfired. I know the cops are working to find him and hopefully they'll get a breakthrough, but I'm not holding my breath. I don't think we'll find him before he wants us to."
My phone rings on the table. Zak and I both look at it.
You're with him.
"What the... How does he know that?" Zak asks.
Detective Alexander must have heard the incoming text, as he pulls over a chair and sits. "What's happening?"
I slide the phone to him and exchange a look with Zak. His dark eyes are wide. "He can see us," he murmurs.
Detective Alexander shouts to the other cops, who run outside to scan the street while he calls in backup from the station. "Don't move," he says. He tells the manager to shut the cafe and get everyone out. One flash of his badge has everyone jumping into action. Quickly, people sprint out to the street and away from the store.
"What do we do?" I ask.
"Let's get you home, Lylah. Zak, you'll be escorted to where you're staying too."
Zak stands. "He followed us here. I don't need an escort anywhere. Next time my brother comes for me, I'll be ready. I can take care of this myself."
"Don't be stupid, Zak, he's dangerous," I say.
Zak's eyes narrow so that they look almost black. "I'm ready for Jake."
I get it. I'm tired of hiding and being afraid too. So why prolong it? If we can draw him out, then great. But that doesn't mean we should be reckless.
"It's basically suicide to turn away protection, Zak," I tell him softly. "Too many people have been lost. Please don't make it easy for Jake to add to the body count."
"Lylah's right, Zak," Detective Alexander says. "Let us get you both home safely."
We leave the cafe as more cops arrive to survey the scene and search for Jake. One of the cops who came with us moves to escort Zak.
Zak grabs my wrist hard as we're about to part ways. He leans in. "Watch yourself, Lylah."
Frowning, I nod. "Yeah. You too."
He drops my wrist and stalks off with the cop, who has to practically jog to keep up with Zak's long, angry strides.
"Lylah?" Detective Alexander asks. "Are you okay?"
I rub my wrist where Zak gripped it. "I think so. Let's get out of here. Knowing Jake could be watching gives me the creeps."
Detective Alexander starts to walk. For a second, I can't move. I have to force my legs into action. The street is long, and we could only get a parking space in the lot at the end.
"What do you think Jake would do if we locked ourselves in the house and didn't come out?" I ask.
It's about the only thing we haven't tried yet, and that's because we don't want him to have that power over us.
The detective glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "I think he would kill Charlotte. Then after a few more days of no contact, not seeing any of you, he would become enraged. I think he'd come after you. Or innocent bystanders. It's not something I would recommend."
"What would you recommend? I can't take much more of this."
"We'll get him, Lylah."
"Have you had other murderers who have been this hard to find?"
He nods. "Of course."
"How many?"
His lip twitches but his eyes are solemn. "A few."
My next question, I don't voice: How
many have gotten away?
We pass the last shop and round the corner into the parking lot. A crowd has gathered around the police car in the far corner. The police car we arrived in.
Oh, God. What is it? Then a beat later, my stomach falls. Charlotte.
Detective Alexander looks at the cop with us, and before they can hold me back, I run.
"Lylah!" Detective Alexander bellows.
My feet hit the concrete so hard that pain shoots up my shins.
Charlotte.
In the background I hear sirens. Whatever's happened, someone has already called it in. There are people standing in front of the car, blocking my view. But the closer I get, the more horror I see.
Blood. Blood everywhere. Blood is smeared on the hood and dripping onto the ground. I stop dead in my tracks. I know what I'm about to see, so do I really want to go farther?
I've seen two of my friends' mutilated bodies already. I don't know that I can bear to see another's.
Detective Alexander catches up and growls, "Wait here!"
I plant my feet, my heart racing. I am light-headed.
The detective and the cop quickly disperse the crowd, but it's too late. Everyone has a phone in their hand videoing and snapping photos of the gruesome scene. As people filter to the side of the parking lot, where they've been instructed to wait to give statements, my friend comes into view.
Charlotte is starfished on the hood of the car, limbs stretched out wide. Her chest is cut open, but it seems more brutal than Sonny and Isaac's--her shirt is cut up and her breasts are on show.
The gash runs from her throat down past her belly button.
How much hate and physical power does it take to do something like that?
I turn away as my stomach rolls with revulsion. I slap my fist over my mouth. Bile burns the back of my throat, and I blink away the tears that fill my eyes.
Charlotte is dead because of me. I set up Jake. And he knew.
A cop I don't recognize wraps a blanket around my shoulders. I hadn't realized that I was shivering. He tells me to stay where I am. I sit on the pavement with the thick, itchy blanket wrapped around me. Lights from emergency vehicles flash around me.
The ground is freezing; cold seeps through my clothes and turns my butt and legs numb. I am so cold, and I am so alone. Everyone ignores me in the flurry of activity. I just sit there in shock.
It took every ounce of self-control not to shout at the cops when they started taking dozens of photos of Charlotte. They have to, I understand that, but it's so undignified with her bra cut open too. Charlotte never even wore low-cut tops, so she would hate so many people seeing her. Seeing her like this.