by Tara Kelly
“I’ve always had his back,” I said the words, but my voice came out weak, barely audible.
“You can’t honestly say that, can you? You spent all last summer chasing after the privileged piles of dog shit who tortured him for fun.”
Sweat was forming down my back, under my arms, behind my knees. Every part of my skin seemed to burn and itch. “I didn’t know everything they did to him.”
“Didn’t know or didn’t want to know?”
As always, she knew just where to hit. I was good at that, wasn’t I? Seeing only what I wanted to. Only what I could handle…
“I’m done talking about this,” I said.
“Of course you are. You don’t want to tarnish that perfect little image of yourself in your head.”
I tried to block her out, typing in “Gotham” with the first four digits of Zach’s birth date. Would he really be dumb enough to use his birthday? Maybe.
“You don’t deserve him,” she said.
I hovered over the log-in button, telling myself to just click it. “Neither do you.”
“I won’t argue that. But I’m not the one in love with him.”
“You sure?” My finger tapped the mouse button, and the screen went white. Waiting…waiting.
“I don’t have to love a guy to hook up with him. I don’t even have to like him.”
The screen popped up with another invalid username/password message. “Glad you’ve got standards.”
“You calling me a slut?”
“I’m saying that’s a good way to get hurt.”
“And what are your standards?” she asked, her voice low and pointed. “Spineless. Psychotic. It’s all good, right? As long as he’s pretty, and he spends Daddy’s money on you.”
I closed my eyes, reminding myself I didn’t give a damn what she thought. She had no right to judge me, not after everything she’d pulled.
“You put on this little hard act,” Jenika continued. “But you’re about as naive as it gets.”
I stood, shoving my chair hard enough to send it into my wall. The thud echoed through my room. “You really want to sit here and have a pissing match right now? Then let’s go outside and get it over with.”
She glared up at me, her fingers picking at the material of her black jeans.
“People are being killed, Jenika. Alex might be…” I couldn’t say it. If I said it, I might start to believe it.
She didn’t answer. Instead, we were both motionless, listening to the muted sound of dogs barking on the living room TV. There was no other sound. Not even the wind gently rattling my window, like it did almost every minute of every day here.
“He’s not dead,” she said, softly. “I can feel it.”
“You can feel it? Are you psychic now?”
The corners of her eyes crinkled, and the tension in her expression returned. “I trust my instincts.”
I folded my arms, wishing I could say the same. But I felt like I was in a dream, waiting for the fog to lift. I was doubting everyone and everything, even my own thoughts.
“Will you do something for me?” Jenika asked.
“What…”
“Look me in the eye and tell me you’re sorry Christian’s dead.”
A chill ran across my skin. I wouldn’t have minded seeing Christian rot behind bars—because that was where he belonged. Was I sorry he was dead? The right answer would be yes.
“I’m not going to miss him,” I said, remembering Alex saying those same words. “But I’m sorry someone took his life. It wasn’t their decision to make.”
She broke eye contact, gazing at the small gap between my curtains.
“I know something happened between you and Christian…before,” I said.
Her head snapped back toward me, her eyes wide and defensive. “Did Alex—”
“He didn’t have to,” I broke in. “It’s obvious.”
She shrugged, her lips pursing. “Christian and his friends screwed with me a few summers ago. So what?”
“A few summers ago?”
“I was thirteen.” Her voice was both calm and tense, like a storm waiting to happen.
“That’s the same summer you guys crashed that cake party, isn’t it?” I waited for her to say more. She didn’t. “What happened?”
“Ask Zach. He was there. Watched the whole thing go down.”
My veins hummed with what felt like electricity. “Watched what?”
“At the beginning of the summer, Christian invited me to a party at his friend’s house. I was dumb enough to show up,” she said.
“Did they attack you?”
Her gaze moved to her hands. “Christian was dared to lose his virginity that night and film it. He picked me to be the lucky girl. But I didn’t know that until my top was off, and I noticed the open laptop with the little green light on.”
My chest felt tense, making me realize I was barely breathing.
“I got out of there, eventually,” she continued. “But not without them blocking the door. Giving my body a good critique. Making threats.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
She shrugged, her eyes lifting to mine again. “If I were going to kill Christian, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”
I kept going back to the one thing I knew about the killer—they couldn’t pull off what they did without extensive planning. Organized killers usually made sure nothing pointed in their direction. Part of the “fun” was the rush of getting away with it, again and again. If that was Jenika’s goal, she was failing miserably. The same went for Alex and Zach. Even Matt. We were all under a spotlight now. Those detectives would be watching every move we made.
I leaned down in front of my computer, staring at the empty password field. Last chance. If I didn’t get it right this time, Zach would know someone was trying to get in. I’d probably be the first guess on his list.
I typed in “Gotham” one more time, hoping I at least had that part right. He could’ve used his entire birth date or some other part of it. But even for Zach—it seemed too easy. He didn’t have a lucky number or a date he was particularly attached to. There was the year of his Mustang—1969. He’d said once if he could time travel to any year, it would be 1969, so he could go to Woodstock and see Jimi Hendrix play.
I typed it in, hit log in, and held my breath. A list of emails popped up on the screen with a “Welcome Zach!” message in the left-hand corner.
“You’re in?” Jenika asked, sounding as surprised as I was.
I nodded, skimming the subjects in the emails. Save 10% on Fender! Are you okay? Thinking of you. The list of “condolence” emails seemed miles long, and every single one was unread. I checked his “sent mail,” but he hadn’t sent anything in a week. There was a response to someone about Amber’s funeral. There was another response to a girl or woman named Katie Song. She’d written a lengthy letter, encouraging him to come back to Seattle and letting him know she was just a call away. His reply was “thanks.” Nothing he’d written showed anything more than what he appeared to be—a guy who just lost his girlfriend.
His draft box had two letters in it. One was started on July 5 at 12:02 a.m.
Katie,
I think I’m going crazy…i can’t remember the last time I slept. The ambien the doctor prescribed didn’t do shit but make me dizzy and forget things. I drank so much tonight I can’t remember half of what happened. My heart is pounding I
The other letter was also addressed to Katie, and it was written at 4:04 a.m., just over an hour after he broke into my room.
I went to Nova’s house. She’s screwing that psycho now. when I got there he was sneaking out of her room. It was the middle of the night..wehre was he going in the middle of the night?
It left off there, right where I needed it to continue most.
“That’s a stream of crazy…” The sound of Jenika’s voice next to my ear made my entire body jerk. I’d been so focused on the letter I hadn’t heard her come
up behind me. “Does Katie know she’s his psychiatrist?”
“I don’t know who she is—he never mentioned her when we were together.” I let out a shaky breath.
“What were you expecting to find?” Jenika asked. “A jpeg of Alex’s note? His exact location?”
At least I had an idea of what Alex’s note didn’t say—where he was going. Why he was taking off in the first place. “Right now I’ll take any new information.”
“What’s new? He’s crazy, obsessed with you, and he claims he doesn’t know where Alex went.”
I went back to Zach’s in-box, scrolling down for the threat he’d gotten the day before Amber’s body was found. It might not have even been sent to this email address—I hadn’t noticed which mailbox it was in that day on his cell.
“He clearly wrote those drafts without a filter,” I said. “It’s a safe bet what’s there is the truth.”
“Really? He doesn’t talk about breaking into your room. Or forging a letter. I’d say there was plenty of filtering.”
“He didn’t finish it.” The oldest email in his in-box was from a week ago, which meant he’d deleted anything before that.
The damp air in my room felt as charged as my nerves, and the floor kept creaking behind me. I knew Jenika was shifting her weight.
“The other night with Alex,” she said. “Was that the first time you guys…”
I straightened and faced her. She didn’t need to know the details. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“He holds you up like you’re some kind of saint. What you think matters to him more than anything else.” Her lips parted and her eyes narrowed, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to say next. But Jenika always knew what to say next. “Sex is a big deal to you, right?”
My hands gripped the edge of my desk. “He told you that?”
“No. You did with your judgy little standards comment.”
“That isn’t what I—”
“My point is—you finally give him the keys to your precious kingdom and he takes off on you? He wouldn’t do that without a real good reason.”
She could’ve been implying that I’d chased him away. But there was no hint of amusement in her expression.
It still didn’t make sense, no matter how many ways I spun it. He wasn’t under duress. He had time to write a note—just not tell me where he was going or why he left. He’d looked at my camera and waved, like it was any other night. It wasn’t any other night.
“He wasn’t exactly himself that night…” I said.
“How so?”
I hated that she was probably the only person—outside Megan—who knew him at all. The only person who might be able to help me make sense of that night.
“I always thought if anything was going to happen between me and Alex, I’d have to make the first move,” I said.
“Why? I didn’t.”
My mouth opened and shut. I’d assumed Jenika did the pursuing. For the last two weeks, the unwelcome image of her seducing him like some kind of dominatrix invaded my head again and again.
Maybe she was messing with me. But the questioning look on her face was genuine.
“Who was he with you?” I asked, after a few seconds of silence.
She settled back on my bed, her brow crinkling. “What do you mean?”
“I thought I knew him better than anyone. But he’s been hiding so much… I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t anymore.” My words came out louder and angrier than I’d meant them to. But I needed to get it out. I needed to say it out loud.
Jenika watched me, clutching a handful of my blanket. “He’s crazy about you,” she said. “That’s real.”
“But who is he? Because the guy I knew was such a do-gooder sometimes it drove me crazy. He was painfully shy. And sweet. And way more together than he should’ve been.” I closed my eyes, willing myself to stop before I couldn’t hold back the lump in my throat anymore.
“I think you answered your own question,” she said. “Nobody can pretend everything’s okay forever.”
I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, as if that would somehow ease the buzzing inside me. “I keep making excuses in my head about that last night with him. But the more I think about it, the more… It really did seem like he was saying good-bye.”
“Was there a specific thing he said?”
“It was everything…”
She let out a breath. “So maybe he really did take off.”
I walked back and forth in front of my desk, multiple scenarios running through my head. “But why? He’s got no money. Nowhere to go. All running away does is make him look guilty.”
“We don’t know what those cops said to him. Maybe they threatened him. If he’s being set up, maybe some kind of evidence was planted and they found it…”
I threw my arms up. “Like what?”
“I don’t know! You’re the one with all the fucking homicide manuals.”
I’d read about a case once where a suspect’s license was found on the victim, but they couldn’t arrest the suspect because—technically—the evidence could’ve been planted. The cops would need fingerprints, hair, or some other DNA evidence that showed Alex had contact with the victims. That wouldn’t be so easy to pull off.
“I can’t sit around here anymore.” Jenika got off the bed. “We need to be out there, looking. Asking around about him.”
“I can’t leave Gavin here alone. And even if I could, there’s an infinite number of places to look. We need to narrow it down.”
She put her hand on the doorknob. “That’s why we talk to people. It was the Fourth of July. Someone had to have seen something.”
“And you think it’s a good idea to approach a bunch of random people right now?”
“I’m not you, Nova. I can take care of myself just fine—done it my whole life.” With that, she left, slamming my door hard enough to make my walls rattle.
I grabbed the first thing on my desk I could reach, my U.S. history textbook from last year, and threw it at my wall, missing the window by only a few inches. The bang was loud enough to make my ears ring.
My breath came out fast, and there was warmth building behind my eyes. I couldn’t lose it now, not yet.
“Nova?” Gavin had opened my door partially. He was peeking at me through the gap. “What’s wrong?”
I wiped under my eyes and opened my door all the way. “We had a fight.”
He stared up at me, still not moving. “About Alex?”
“You want tater tots? Mom got us a massive bag.”
“Okay,” he muttered, sounding uncertain.
I bent down and wrapped my arm around him, giving him a one-armed hug. If I had to be okay for Gavin, I couldn’t focus on all the thoughts racing through my head, pulling me in a hundred different directions. I couldn’t doubt myself or feel guilty. I couldn’t shut down.
Monday, July 7
What if I can’t do it?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Detective Sandoval wanted to come by first thing in the morning and talk about Christian’s picture. He showed up ten minutes early, before I’d had a chance to put on a pair of jeans or get down a couple bites of cereal. Jenika had already torn out of here, suddenly deciding that she couldn’t miss her summer school class.
Mom let Sandoval in, and I turned off the news in her room. They’d just shown a picture of Alex for the second time this morning, saying he was missing and might be armed. It was surreal, seeing my best friend’s face plastered on the TV. There weren’t many pictures of Alex in existence, but this was one of the worst. His grandpa had taken it last New Year’s Eve, after he and Alex had an argument. Megan was actually sitting next to him, but they’d cropped her out, leaving Alex glaring at the camera. He was wearing one of his old metal band T-shirts with skeletal remains and bloodred writing on the front—that was what the argument was about. Cindy had threatened to throw all his band shirts in a box and burn them.
And now th
at moment was being broadcast to millions of people. People who’d take one look at that scowl and black clothing and figure he had to be a murderer. They’d never know the context behind the photo or even want to ask.
Detective Sandoval took one end of the couch, and I took the other. My eyes burned and the room seemed foggy from lack of sleep. Like Zach, I was beginning to feel crazy.
“How are you doing?” Sandoval asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
“As good as I can be…”
“I’m sorry you had to see that picture.” He let a few seconds of silence pass, probably trying to gauge my reaction. “Any idea who might’ve sent it or why they may have sent it to you?”
I shook my head, hoping he wouldn’t stay long. I couldn’t trust what came out of my mouth at this point.
“Have you heard from Alex since we talked yesterday?” he asked.
“No. And he didn’t send that picture.”
Sandoval cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “How do you know?”
“I’m not stupid, okay?” My mind was screaming at me to stop, but I kept going. “I know you’re looking at him as a suspect—”
“Right now he’s a person of interest. Person of interest doesn’t mean suspect.”
My fists clenched in my lap. That wouldn’t be how the entire town saw it. “Alex isn’t a killer. But if he was, hypothetically, he wouldn’t be this obvious.”
Sandoval’s expression softened. “Like we told you last night, we’re not accusing anyone of anything right now. Our job is to ask questions and gather all the information we can.”
“Okay, then.” My voice cracked. “I’ve told you everything I know about who sent that picture. Nothing.”
“Have you gotten any other emails or messages that concern you?”
“No.”
He nodded and wrote something down on his pad. “Would you mind getting your mom for me?
I called out to her, knowing I didn’t really have to. She’d been listening. Mom emerged from the kitchen and stood in the middle of the living room, arms folded.
“Is it just you and the kids in this house?” Sandoval asked her.
“A lot of the time, yes.” She let her arms drop to her sides. “But Eric, my boyfriend, lives here, too.” She babbled on about him working in Seattle and coming back to help out with Jenika. “He said he should be here around noon.”