"So we do nothing? Just pretend it is a regular day?" Chace asks.
"We'll go through what you can do to help our investigation, such as not talking to the media or publicizing any details on any social media sites, but I see no reason why you can't carry on as normal. I can put you in touch with a wonderful grief counselor--"
"I don't need that," Chace says, cutting off the detective midsentence and standing abruptly. "And I'm hardly about to sell our story, so are we done here? I need some air. I want to go home."
The detective offers to have an officer drive us home, as they will be going to speak with the rest of our roommates--break the news, ask them questions--but we both need some space. We say we'll walk. Chace practically shouts it.
I stand robotically, my heart pounding. Chace is never one to let his emotions to get the better of him, so his reaction--overreaction--is alarming. But I suppose if it's going to happen, finding our friend dead is an understandable time to do so.
"Yes, you're free to go," Detective Lina says. "You have my number. Please use it if you need anything. I'll be in touch."
Nodding, I turn toward the door, and I'm almost knocked off my feet as Chace bolts out of the room.
"Err... Bye," I mutter and follow Chace. He's really not acting like himself. But how are you supposed to act when your friend has been murdered?
All eyes are on me as I walk down the corridor. The few police officers still here are silent, watching as I make my way out. The back door is cordoned off with yellow tape, so I head back to the main entrance. The few students and faculty who are in the building gape in the lobby as I pass under the tape. I keep my head down and walk as quickly as I can, shoving through the double doors, and I grind to a halt.
"Chace," I whisper.
He's leaning against the railing with his hands on his thighs and head bowed. I know he's heard me because he takes a deep breath.
"What happened in there?" I ask, tentatively reaching out and touching his upper arm. Even through his jacket, I feel his tension, muscles bunched tight and hard as rock.
Raising his head, he stares at me with a tortured look in his eyes. His face is so pale, it's like he hasn't seen the sun in years. "Sonny's heart was missing."
"What?"
"I thought something was wrong when we saw him, but I didn't know what. I don't know what the insides of a body really look like."
My mind is reeling. I shake my head and hold up my hand to stop him. "Wait. Chace, slow down. What are you talking about? How do you know this?"
"I heard the police talking outside the room. When I was leaving, two of the cops were speaking to someone on the forensics team. The bastard who murdered Sonny cut out his heart and left his body in our editing suite, and that detective is trying to tell us we're not in any danger?" Chace is livid.
I'm overcome. My vision blurs. I tighten my grip on the railing, and Chace pulls me against his chest. We lean on each other.
"Breathe, Lylah," he murmurs in my ear.
I do as I'm told and suck in a deep breath. My lungs sting with the cold as they expand.
"Are you sure that's true? Wouldn't the medical examiner need to see the body to know?"
And better yet, who would cut out a person's heart? How would they even begin?
7
Saturday
February 3
I place one foot in front of the other, but I don't feel like I'm actually moving. Every step takes a lot of effort. My mind is spinning as I fight between rejecting what I saw and accepting that Sonny was murdered.
Where is his heart?
Chace is gripping my hand, squeezing so hard my knuckles crush against his. I don't tell him this though because, oddly, the pain grounds me.
We turn down the road, and our house comes into view. I almost break out into a sprint, but I don't know what it's going to be like inside. At least we don't have to tell them. The police have already been--Detective Lina sent them to break the news. That was about forty-five minutes ago. There are no police cars outside the house now, so they must have left already.
Charlotte, Sienna, and Isaac will be in shock--devastated--and they'll have a million questions that none of us know the answer to.
Before I unlock the door, Chace tugs on my hand. I turn to him. "I don't think we should tell them about Sonny's heart yet."
"What? Why wouldn't we?"
"The detective didn't mention it. That means the cops are keeping that detail from us for a reason. They do stuff like this. It's also...not news anyone wants to hear."
I nod, jabbing the heels of my hands into my eyes. My head is throbbing.
Chace continues, "I'm saying we should wait for them to tell us. Right now only the cops and killer know that information."
"And us," I whisper. "How are we supposed to keep this from our housemates? Our friends? Don't they deserve to know how he died?"
"It will only cause them more harm. Isn't it enough to know that he was stabbed to death?"
"Chace, you're not making sense."
He sighs. "If this detail gets out, we could jeopardize the investigation."
I just stare at him.
"Lylah, you're looking at me like I have an ulterior motive. I don't. We both want the bastard who killed Sonny found, but if this information gets out before the cops want to release it, we could slow them down, we could put ourselves in dan--"
"All right," I say, interrupting him. "I get it, and I agree. But I don't feel good keeping secrets. So we need to talk with Detective Lina later and tell her what you overheard."
He nods. "That's all I'm asking."
I open the front door, and the house is eerily quiet. Looking over my shoulder, I make sure Chace is right behind me. He gives me a fleeting smile. We go into the living room together.
Sienna is in Isaac's arms, wiping her eyes with a tissue. Isaac stares at the wall in a daze, and Charlotte sits with her head in her hands.
Everyone looks at us as we walk in.
"I can't believe it," Charlotte says, her voice meek.
"Are you two okay?" Isaac asks. "You found him? What..."
Thankfully Isaac doesn't finish his question because I don't think I can answer what it was like. I've already had to go into details with the detective.
"I don't feel okay," I reply. My heart is still racing so hard I can hear my pulse. "When did the police leave?"
Isaac lets out a deep breath. "They left about five minutes ago. There wasn't much we could tell them, so they weren't here that long at all. One of them looked through Sonny's room."
"How is this happening?" Sienna mutters to herself, shaking her head. "It can't be right."
"It's possible that someone left Sonny for me and Lylah to find. Does anyone have any idea who could hold a grudge against all three of us?" Chace asks, perching on an arm of the couch.
"No, we already told the police," Charlotte says. "I mean, not everyone loved him, but I can't think of anyone who would want to do...that to him."
Cut him open.
"Okay. What about me and Chace?" I ask. "I don't think we have enemies, but if someone wanted us to find him, that's personal."
"I'm going to make tea," Sienna says. "Do you all want any?" Her body sways as she stands, and Isaac moves as fast as a cat to steady her. "I'm fine." Sienna steps away from his grip. "I'll make everyone drinks."
I follow Sienna out of the living room and down the hallway to the kitchen. Her posture is awful, shoulders slumped forward like they weigh too much.
"You okay?" I ask, leaning against the wooden counter.
She shakes her head while busying herself filling the kettle and getting five mugs from the cupboard.
We used to get six.
"When the police knocked on the door, I never expected them to say Sonny had been murdered," she says softly. "And knowing the killer left him where you and Chace would find him scares the hell out of me. They said it could be coincidental because the media building is positioned the be
st for disposal, but I think Chace is right. It seems deliberate."
I flinch at the word disposal. Sonny wasn't a piece of garbage. "It scares me too. I don't know why anyone would want to hurt Sonny...or me and Chace."
Sienna's charcoal eyes widen. "Are we all in danger?"
"Honestly, I don't know. I still can't get past seeing him like that."
"Oh, Lylah, I'm so sorry. Here I am going on about how hard this is, and I'm not the one who found him."
"It was awful. At first I couldn't stop looking at him. His chest..." I bite my tongue to stop the other details from slipping out. I'll never forget what I saw, but there is no reason Sienna needs to be haunted by that image too.
She turns to face me, leaning her back against the countertop. Her lip trembles. "Do you think he suffered?"
"I don't know." But from what I saw of him, it seems like he must have. I glance away and cross my arms over my stomach. "The police will have answers soon, I'm sure."
"Do you think so? I don't feel safe."
"I do think so. We have to believe that."
Sienna drops her voice. "What do you think happened, Lylah?"
I shrug. "Sonny was out, and he got into an altercation with someone he shouldn't have. That person snapped and...stabbed him. His body was taken to the nearest building and left in an open room."
And his heart was removed.
"An open room that just happened to be the one you and Chace booked?"
"Yes. If no one else booked the other rooms, they would be locked until the media assistant arrived. Since we booked it for so early they must have left that one open overnight," I speculate. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We need to trust that the police know what they're doing. Do you think we should reach out to Sonny's family and see how they're doing?"
"I don't know. Maybe in a day or so if they haven't called us? They might want to talk."
"They probably will. What I want to know is what do we do now?"
She tilts her head, frowning. "There is nothing we can do right now."
"Right. No, of course not," I reply.
"Do you need to be busy?"
Am I that transparent?
"I...I don't like waiting around. I need to do something."
"Well you have a lot of schoolwork to finish, don't you?"
I nod.
"So go do that if it will help."
We found our friend dead this morning. I'm hardly going to flick open textbooks and be able to concentrate, but I get what she means. "What helps you, Sienna?"
"Making tea and crying. It's okay to let it out, you know? You can cry or scream or do whatever you need to. But it's good to let out your feelings."
I sigh. Easier said than done. "I'll keep that in mind."
Keeping my emotions bottled up isn't good--I learned that the hard way--but I can't help it. I'm scared to really express my feelings in case I can't stop them. It was bad when my parents died. I felt like I lost all control.
Chace, Isaac, and Charlotte come into the kitchen.
"Spit it out, Isaac," Charlotte says. She looks at Sienna and me pointedly. "He thinks he has an idea who's responsible."
"Go on," Sienna urges.
Isaac clears his throat. "I think... I think it's Jake."
"Don't be ridiculous." The words fall from my mouth before my brain engages with the notion.
"Hear me out, Lylah. They cops said that Sonny was cut open, then moved to the editing suite. For a person to do that, he would have to be strong. Really strong. And Jake was. He'd have to have some sort of vendetta too, given how the crime played out. Jake is the only person who could have possibly wanted Sonny dead and also wanted you to find him."
Sienna puts her hands on her hips. "Really? That doesn't seem very likely. Why do you think Jake hated Sonny?"
Isaac sighs. "I know you say what happened with you and him wasn't a big deal, Lylah, but what if Jake saw it differently? He was good friends with Sonny. They kept in contact when he left school, but after a while, Sonny mentioned him less and less. What if Jake felt that you rejecting him cost him his friendship with Sonny?"
I want to deny it, mostly because the motives Jake would have make him seem pathetic and vindictive, but maybe that's all it takes for someone to lose it. Isaac is right about Jake's physical strength. And Jake was studying premed. He dreamed of becoming a surgeon. He could have known enough about anatomy to remove someone's heart.
The possibilities lodge in my throat, thickening until I feel like I might choke with guilt. Could I be the catalyst for all of this? If my rejection caused Jake to lose contact with his friend, and something snapped...
No, surely not. There has to be more of a reason to kill a person, right?
Charlotte takes a deep breath. "Think about it. Jake lost the girl he liked, then he lost his friends, then dropped out of university. It's been almost a year since the kiss, which maybe he marks as the start of his life going downhill. So what if that triggered...I don't know, something inside him?"
I can't hear anymore of this. They're not trying to blame me, but that's exactly what they're doing. It's not my fault that Sonny is dead.
Shaking my head, I head toward the hallway. "I'm going to my room. I need to lie down."
"Lylah, don't go," Chace says.
"I'll be fine. I just need a minute."
It's unlikely that I'll be able to nap after what I've seen or heard, but I don't want to be around people right now--not even my friends. I get halfway up the stairs when I hear Sienna break down into tears again, followed by the sounds of my housemates comforting her.
I go to my room and close the door.
Alone, I'm able to hear my own thoughts properly. But there are too many at one time, too many questions. Did Sonny have something serious going on in his life that he didn't tell us about? How personal was it? Why else would someone murder him in such a horrific way if it wasn't personal? The time and effort it would have taken to do that to Sonny... There had to be more to it. The killer surely would have to truly despise him to go to those lengths.
Already I can feel my anxiety bubbling, waiting to erupt. If I don't get ahold on it, I'll be in a place I swore I would never let myself get to again. Even with the help of a therapist, medication, and Riley, it was nearly impossible to pick myself up and rebuild my life. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to do that again.
Walking to my window so I can shut the blinds, I take a quick peek out first.
What the...?
There's a large gathering of people on the sidewalk outside our house and across from our house. I recognize a lot of them as our neighbors. It looks like they are holding a vigil. They're all standing with rose petals scattered around them. There must be thousands of petals. It's like someone had buckets and buckets of them.
When did this happen? The street was clear when we arrived home not that long ago. Did the news spread that fast? I watch Isaac and Chace walk outside. They stop at the end of the path by the gate and speak to someone. I don't recognize who.
Most of the crowd is gathered across the street, as if they are trying to lend their support but still give us some space. I scan the gathering of people and gasp. Standing next to a group of girls huddling together is a guy in a black hoodie. A guy who I swear I've seen before. He's staring at the house with his arms folded.
I grip the blind cord and yank them shut.
My heart is thudding, but I could be overreacting. It's winter. Lots of people are wearing hoodies and warm clothing. He could be with that group of girls, standing there out of boredom.
Or he could be the guy who took our photograph and left the creepy messages, covering his face so he can't be recognized--the culprit admiring the aftermath of his handiwork.
Do I call the police? They'd likely think I was overreacting, that I was seeing things. Almost everyone out there is wearing a sweatshirt or coat of some kind. It's probably nothing. Rubbing my forehead, I take a breath. I need to sleep to clear my mind.
/>
8
Sunday
February 4
The next morning, I have to get out of the house. I've been given extra time to finish my media project, but throwing myself into work is a welcome distraction. I keep thinking about Sonny's body slumped on the floor, covered in blood. I need to think of anything else.
Chace has agreed to accompany me. Whether he needs a distraction too or he doesn't want to let me go alone, I don't know. Since the editing suites are still taped off, we head to the library. Even though the library is in another section of campus and nowhere near the editing suites, I still don't want to go alone. I may have used a little bribery, suggesting we stop by the dining hall to pick up some coffee and snacks.
"You holding up okay after last night?" he asks, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye as we walk.
I hid in my room for the rest of the day. Between anxiety, grief, and guilt, I couldn't bear the thought of facing my friends. I cried and tried to distract myself with social media. And when articles and rumors about what happened kept popping into my feeds, I shoved my phone under my pillow and binged movies on my laptop until I fell asleep--a heavy, dreamless sleep. I'm so grateful I never remember my dreams, if I even have any.
"Yeah, I'll be fine. It's all so upsetting. Isaac's take on the Jake thing on top of finding Sonny kind of rattled me."
"No one was saying it's your fault," Chace says pointedly. "But we called Detective Lina to tell her about Isaac's suspicions. She is going to look into it and contact Jake, even if it's just to eliminate him."
"Oh." I blink. I didn't know they'd called without me. "Okay. What did she say specifically?"
"She just said she'd look into it, so I guess she'll contact him and ask him to go to the station. I don't know, we'll see." Chace frowns, distracted by something in the distance.
There is a large mass of people gathered around the noticeboard outside the main dining hall. We fall in behind the crowd, Chace stepping closer to me.
"What's going on?" I push up on my tiptoes to try to see what has everyone's attention.
The people around us elbow one another, nodding in our direction and staring. It's like Chace and I are the center of some joke or gossip.
My heart plummets into my stomach.
Chace senses the shift too and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I'm not complaining, but I wish it was because he had feelings for me, not because I'm sensing we need to stick together for safety.