“I was looking for a pattern. Something the killer’s been following.”
I felt a chill. “Who said there was a killer? Who said anyone’s been killed?”
Tyler stared at the open log. If there was a killer, and if there was some connection to Safe Rides, it might just be that the killer took his ideas for victims from that log. The log I’d just found Tyler looking at. The same Tyler who, along with me, was the only person in the world who knew that Lucy had not gone inside the night we dropped her off. The same Tyler who’d suddenly said he was going away the weekend Adam disappeared. Only he wasn’t away because I’d seen him. The same Tyler who had an unusual interest in serial killers.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, crashing through my thoughts.
You know nothing about him, I thought. Not where he came from, or why he suddenly showed up a month after school started, or what he was doing in this office. Do you even want to be in here alone with him?
I started toward the door.
“You know what it means if they’re all dead, don’t you?” he asked behind me. “It means that the person who killed them isn’t just a killer. He’s a serial killer.”
On the nights when the public library was open late, Maura used their computers. Her mother had a computer at home, but it had an old-fashioned dial-up modem and you could grow old waiting for it to do the simplest things.
The library was where she had written and posted her blog. And even though she’d stopped doing that, she would still go to a chat room and talk to strangers. And it was there that IaMnEmEsIs found her.
IaMnEmEsIs: Do you really think you can just stop?
The air left Maura’s lungs. She stared at the screen, then instinctively looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching. No one was. She began to feel anxious and tingly, as if a mild electric current was running through her. She typed:
Str-S-d: You’re the one who has to stop
IaMnEmEsIs: Don’t tell us what to do. You’re in this with us
Str-S-d: No
IaMnEmEsIs: Who’ll believe you?
Str-S-d: All I did was write a blog. I didn’t know
IaMnEmEsIs: You’re an accomplice
Str-S-d: No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IaMnEmEsIs: We thought you’d be pleased
Str-S-d: You’re crazy
IaMnEmEsIs: Now there’s an original thought
Str-S-d: Why did you do it?
IaMnEmEsIs: We think you know
Str-S-d: Oh, God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IaMnEmEsIs: Too late. We want you to see
Str-S-d: See what?
IaMnEmEsIs: What we’ve done for you
Str-S-d: No
IaMnEmEsIs: Yes. Hillsdale Kennels
Str-S-d: Never
IaMnEmEsIs: Yes
Str-S-d: I’ll tell the police
IaMnEmEsIs: Can you spell accomplice?
Str-S-d: I dont care. I’m not coming
IaMnEmEsIs: Then we’ll bring it to you
Maura closed the application. Her heart was pounding.
chapter 19
Wednesday 7:58 A.M.
Don’t be upset, Adam. We told Courtney to stop screaming. We only did what we did because she wouldn’t stop. Why was she screaming? Because of Lucy, you say? Let’s see. Oh, dear, look at that. She doesn’t look well at all, does she? Yes, yes, Adam, it was just a joke. We know that she’s far beyond not well. We’re afraid you’re right. Isn’t that sad? She had so much to live for, didn’t she? What? What will we do with her now? Oh, aren’t you sweet to be concerned? Don’t worry, Adam. We’ll take very good care of her. The timing couldn’t be better.
* * *
IT WAS THE coldest morning so far that fall. A few white flakes drifted out of the gray sky. I had just gotten out of my car in the student parking lot when I heard a scream. Kids all over the lot turned and looked. A few began to jog toward a small patch of trees at the bottom of a short slope next to the school. Others walked slowly toward the trees, as if they wanted to let the runners get there first. Still others, myself included, didn’t want to go, or look, or know.
Looking down at the trees I felt a shiver of fear. Now what?
A boy named Tanner Wilks ran up the slope as fast as he could. With terror in his eyes he raced past me, yanked open a door that led into the gym, and disappeared inside. Meanwhile, voices, gasps, and shouts came from the wooded area. A girl trudged up the slope sobbing, her face buried in her hands, her shoulder cradled by a grim-looking boy.
The gym door opened and Mr. Alvarez, the gym teacher, raced down the slope towards the woods. The door had hardly closed when it swung open again and Principal Edwards came out, speaking urgently into a walkie talkie as he ran.
“Everyone back! Get back!” Mr. Alvarez’s booming gym-teacher voice echoed up the slope. Now Mr. Edwards joined in the chorus. “Everyone go! Get away from here! Go inside. Now!”
A few male teachers went down toward the trees. A small group of female teachers and secretaries came out but stayed near the gym door and watched.
In the distance the police sirens started. Even though they sounded far away, I turned to look and found Tyler standing a few feet behind me. I gasped and felt startled.
He frowned. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Sorry, I’m just freaked.”
“What’s going on?” He looked somber as he glanced past me toward the trees.
I shook my head. I didn’t know. The sirens were getting louder. I counted two, maybe three different ones, and felt a terrible sensation of foreboding. Tyler stepped closer and I felt his arm go around my shoulders. I shivered and hoped he’d assume it was from the cold, but the truth was, I didn’t know how I felt. Yes, I wanted to feel his arm around me, but only if that arm was attached to someone who had nothing to do with the terrible things that were going on. And right now I wasn’t sure of that.
A police car screeched into the parking lot. Two officers got out and quickly jogged down the slope and into the woods. An ambulance arrived next, and some EMTs carrying orange medical cases ran down the slope. A dark green sedan pulled into the parking lot, and Detective Payne got out. Our eyes met for a second, and then he hurried down the slope.
Mr. Alvarez and Principal Edwards came out of the woods, both grim and ashen-faced. In a voice filled with angst Principal Edwards shouted, “Everyone, back into school!” In response, kids moved faster toward the doors than they might normally have. Down in the wooded area, a police officer was going from tree to tree, stretching yellow crime-scene tape.
My stomach was in knots and I began to feel light-headed and sick.
“You okay?” Tyler asked.
I nodded but stumbled when I took a step. Tyler slid his arm around my waist. I couldn’t tell him that part of my discomfort stemmed from not knowing if I could trust him.
Inside, the PA blared, “Students, go directly to your homerooms and take your seats. Do not congregate in the halls. Go to your homerooms and wait.”
The hallways were filled with frightened-looking students. Everyone wanted to know what was going on. Tyler and I passed the nurse’s office just as Mrs. Johnson, the school psychologist, rushed in. Through the doorway we could see Tanner Wilks sitting on a cot with his hands over his eyes and Ms. Perkins, the nurse, sitting beside him with her arm around his shoulders.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s obvious,” Tyler muttered as we continued down the hall.
“But we don’t know. I mean, obviously it’s something bad, but we don’t know.”
“The only thing we don’t know is which one.”
“Please don’t say that.” At the same time I thought, One, or ones? If it is them, how does he know it’s not all three?
The thoughts only made me more uncomfortable. I wished he’d take his arm from around my waist. Thank God we were in a crowded hallway at school. I was so uncomfortable with him at that moment that if
we’d been someplace else alone, I think I might have screamed and run away.
I was glad when we stopped outside my homeroom. I eased myself out of his grasp. “Guess I better go in.”
“Talk to you later?” Tyler asked.
I nodded, but inside I wasn’t so sure.
Inside the room Ms. Skelling was sitting quietly at her desk, staring out the window. At their desks, kids were talking anxiously about what was going on outside. Over the PA came the static that often preceded an announcement. “Quiet!” Ms. Skelling suddenly snapped. “Listen!”
“Please pay close attention.” Principal Edwards’s voice came over the PA. “School has been cancelled for the remainder of the day. If you have a cell phone and can reach a parent or caregiver, please call them and have them come to school to get you. After you’ve placed your call, please allow someone who doesn’t have a phone to use yours. Parents and caregivers are to come as soon as possible. No one will be allowed to leave school alone, even if you came by bicycle or walked this morning. This order has come directly from the chief of police. Teachers, we are depending on you to make sure no student leaves unless accompanied by an adult. Students, if you cannot reach a parent or caregiver, please remain in your homeroom until further notice.”
The PA clicked off. There was a moment of silence, as if no one could quite believe we’d been told to use our phones in school, and then kids began calling. I got Mom on her cell. “You have to come get me.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you sick?”
I explained that something bad had happened and that school been cancelled. Mom was silent for a moment. Then she said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
It wasn’t long before a line of cars was snaking into the school driveway and kids were being called over the PA. “Carley Applegate, Jason Prine, James Row, Lacey Williamson. Your rides are here. Students who have not been able to reach parents or caregivers, go to the auditorium. Stuart Davies, Melissa Sloat, Randal Ellison, Benjamin Carlucci, please meet your rides.”
We watched silently as the kids whose names were called rose and left the classroom.
Tabitha raised her hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?”
“No,” said Ms. Skelling.
“But I have to go,” Tabitha insisted.
Ms. Skelling rolled her eyes. “Maura, please accompany Tabitha to the young ladies’ room and make sure she doesn’t go anywhere else and comes right back.”
“I don’t need a chaperone.”
“If you don’t like it, you can sit there and pee in your pants,” Ms. Skelling said.
Murmurs rippled through the classroom. While Tabitha and Maura got up and left, the rest of us exchanged glances. We weren’t used to teachers speaking to us that way, least of all Ms. Skelling. But some in the class suddenly saw an entertaining opportunity to make the time pass.
“What do you think’s going on, Ms. Skelling?”
“You’ll know soon enough,” she replied.
“You think it has something to do with the missing kids?”
“You’ll know soon enough.”
“You think there’s a killer going around killing kids?”
“You’ll know … soon … enough,” Ms. Skelling grumbled through clenched teeth. “No … more … questions.”
Another list of names was announced over the PA and mine was among them.
Outside in front of school, Mom was waiting in her car. Her eyes were red and watery. The radio was on: “… Miss Cunningham, a senior at Soundview High, was first reported missing on November second. Two other Soundview High students are still missing. This morning’s chilling development greatly increases the concern for their lives.…”
Using one hand to wipe her eyes, Mom turned off the radio with the other. Tears welled up and spill out of my eyes. It had happened … the worst thing imaginable.
She drove out of the school driveway and parked on the street, then undid her seat belt and leaned over, doing her best to hug me while I cried.
“I’m so sorry, hon. This is just a terrible thing for someone your age to have to deal with. It’s terrible thing for anyone to have to deal with. And when I think about Paul and Dana …” She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead I heard her choke up and start to cry again.
Alternating between wanting to cry and not wanting to, I sobbed, hiccupped, and blew my nose, then cried some more. This morning’s chilling development … Lucy was dead. My friend. Someone my own age. Someone I’d grown up with. Someone I knew … had been murdered.
If you’ve never known someone your own age who’s died, you can’t imagine what it feels like. It’s as if you were walking on a glass floor and it suddenly shatters and now you’re falling and falling and there’s broken glass in the air all around you and no bottom in sight.
I sat with Mom in the car and cried for a long time. Soon I wasn’t just crying for Lucy, but for Adam and Courtney as well. Were they also dead?
“How can this be happening?” I sobbed.
Mom wiped her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know, hon. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”
Rap! Rap! The sound of knuckles on the window made us jump. Mom and I swiveled our heads. A woman with straight black hair was gesturing for me to open the window. She was holding a microphone, and behind her was a man with a video camera.
“Cover your face and put up your middle finger,” Mom said.
“What?!” I asked in disbelief.
“Just do it,” she said. “Then they can’t use it on air.”
I did as I was told. The reporter and cameraman left. I turned to Mom. My eyes burned and my cheeks were wet, but I felt a smile on my lips. “God, Mom, I never thought the day would come when you’d tell me to give someone the finger.”
We shared a brief grin that quickly dissolved into more tears. My grandmother had died of cancer, and in third grade a girl in the year ahead of me had died suddenly from an asthma attack. But this was different. This was … murder. Something that only happened in movies and on TV, and in places far away. Something that no one ever imagined happening in a place like Soundview.
I spent the rest of the day at home, texting, talking, IMing, and thinking about Tyler. He wasn’t online, but he was there in my head, gnawing at my thoughts. I didn’t want to believe he was involved in Lucy’s death, but I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.
And then there were the tears, which were never far away as the whole reality of Lucy’s death hit me again and again. Each time I finished crying, I’d go downstairs and find Mom on her computer and phone, and we’d go into the kitchen and make tea. Dad was in London, but Mom reached him and he left a dinner with some important people to speak to me for a while. The TV stayed off. Mom said we’d had enough bad news for one day (although I had a feeling she was checking the news while I was upstairs).
I was sitting in the kitchen, gazing at the Sound. The water was steel gray, reflecting the sky. The breeze drove row after row of small waves across the surface, but all I could think about was the cold, still darkness beneath.
“Honey?” Mom asked.
“Yes?” I raised my head.
Mom smiled crookedly as she came toward me with a jar of honey in her hand. “I meant, for your tea.”
“Oh, sure, thanks.” She set the jar down and I transferred a spoonful of the amber syrup into my mug. The phone rang and Mom answered. “Yes? Uh-huh. Yes, I understand. I’ll tell her.” She hung up. “No school tomorrow.”
That didn’t come as a surprise. Everyone was beyond freaked. School the next day would have been a waste, and there was a good chance a lot of parents would keep their kids home anyway. Mom sat down and cupped her hands around her mug. “I guess what I’m wondering is how in the world they’re going to have school the day after tomorrow?”
* * *
When I went back upstairs there was a message from PBleeker:
I guess
you must be pretty upset, unless maybe you’re happy about what happened because Lucy stole Adam from you. But people don’t deserve to die just because they steal someone’s boyfriend, do they? Besides, you’ve never struck me as the vengeful type. Can you believe what they did to her eyes?
The first rule of dealing with cyberstalkers is to never, ever respond. But this felt different. Even if I wasn’t sure who PBleeker was, it was obvious that we knew each other. I wrote back: What about her eyes?
I waited, hoping that PBleeker would be thrilled that I’d finally answered, and eager to reply. But no reply came.
That night there was more news about Lucy. The medical examiner announced that she’d been dead for less than twenty-four hours when she’d been discovered in that wooded grove near the school that morning. The cause of death appeared to be kidney failure due to severe dehydration. There was no mention of anything relating to eyes.
chapter 20
Thursday 6:43 A.M.
NORMALLY WHEN I got up in the morning, Mom was already downstairs with the newspaper. She read the paper daily, not only because she was active in town politics but because she was a news junkie. But the following morning there was no paper spread out on the kitchen table. There was only Mom, wearing her white terry-cloth robe, the ends of her hair still damp from a morning swim. She was gazing out the window. When she heard me come in, she turned and gave me a weak smile. “How’d you sleep?”
“Better than I thought I would,” I said. “I guess massive anxiety can really wear you out.” I sat down and poured myself a mug of tea. “What’s up?”
“Just having my coffee.” That was so un-Mom-like.
“Why aren’t you reading the paper?”
She gave me a completely unconvincing shrug.
“Mom, I already heard.”
She reached across the table and placed her hand on mine. “About how she died?”
I nodded, although trying to make sense of what they’d said was like trudging through heavy snow. Kidney failure … dehydration …