by Jana DeLeon
Shaye pulled over to the curb and checked the message.
I found a picture of Amber and a guy! It was hidden behind that framed picture of her and her mother.
No name on it though.
Shaye shook her head. She should have thought to check behind the other picture. She texted back.
That’s great. Can you take a pic of it and text it to me?
Shaye reached for the air conditioning control and turned it on. It was a balmy day but not overly hot. Still, she felt a bit flushed and wondered briefly if the lack of decent sleep was catching up with her.
She took another drink of water and rubbed the cold bottle against her forehead. The text from Brittany came through and she looked at the picture and frowned. Amber’s hair was in a ponytail and she wore a cheerleading uniform. The boy beside her was wearing a football jersey and had his arm around her and a big grin on his face.
The photo provided a good shot of him and Shaye figured a teacher at the high school would easily recognize him. But instead of putting the car in gear and heading for the high school, she stared at his face a bit longer. There was something about him that was familiar. So familiar that she was certain she’d seen him somewhere before. Older maybe? Or maybe just in passing and that’s why she couldn’t zero in on where it was or when.
It hit her like a bolt of lightning and she gasped. It was Thomas.
Geeky, shy Thomas who wore glasses and rode a bicycle. A Thomas who looked nothing now as he did in this picture.
Playing the role.
She’d thought from the beginning that someone wasn’t whom they pretended to be, and when she’d discovered Brett’s past, she’d been certain he was the one. She’d never considered Thomas. She switched to her phone list but as she stared at the numbers, her vision started to blur. Her head bobbed a bit and she felt a wave of nausea pass over her.
Thomas. Whose mother had cancer.
Propofol was sometimes given to chemo patients.
Her gaze locked on the bottled water and she let out a cry. The water she’d taken from Tara’s refrigerator. She put the cap back on the bottle and turned it upside down. A tiny trickle of water came out of the almost invisible puncture near the top. It was drugged! She’d taken one of the front bottles out for herself and given the other to Tara. She forced herself to focus on the phone and dialed Jackson’s number.
“It’s Thomas,” she said as soon as Jackson answered. “From the convenience store. He drugged Tara’s water and I drank some. You have to go there. He’s probably already inside.”
Shaye knew Jackson was probably surprised and more than a little confused but he didn’t even hesitate.
“On my way!” he said. “Call 911 for yourself now.”
Shaye dropped the phone on the passenger seat and put the car in gear. She had no idea how far away Jackson was but she was only two blocks away. She might not be sound enough to fight, but the two cops in the parking lot certainly were.
She wasn’t going anywhere until she knew Tara was safe.
Tara looked down at her iPad and blinked as the graphics began to blur. She closed her eyes but the room still felt as if it were moving. Maybe the doctor had missed something. Maybe she’d hit her head when she fell. What if she had a concussion? You could die from that, right?
Calm down.
The tiny sliver of sanity that she had left chimed into her scattered thoughts, and she took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. If she’d hit her head, the doctors would have seen bruising on her scalp. She was just exhausted and the pain med she’d taken earlier for her knee was probably making her a little dizzy. She hadn’t felt like eating much, so that was adding to the effect of the medicine.
What she needed to do was sleep, but she’d been forcing herself to surf the Internet, struggling to stay awake in case something happened. It was foolish because now was the best time to rest—while it was daylight and the cops outside could easily spot Brett if he came anywhere near the dorm. At night, he might be able to sneak in with a group of students.
She shook her head, still unable to believe they’d just turned Brett loose. Shaye had explained why Detective Grayson had made the decision and she got it, but knowing that she had sorta been dangled as bait didn’t exactly make her want to sing with joy. She knew it would be suicide for Brett to attempt to get to her, but if he was crazy, he might not care. He might figure he was already going to go to prison so he might as well finish the job. Whatever the hell job it was he imagined he was doing.
Her throat grew dry again and she reached for the bottle of water and knocked it off the desk and onto the rug next to her bed. The top popped off and the water began to pour onto the rug. She struggled to shift her legs around enough so that she could lean over the side of the bed for the bottle, but by the time she lifted it, there was only one swig left. Sighing, she downed the last of it and put the empty bottle on the desk. What a waste. Two whole drinks out of the entire bottle and now she’d have to get up to get another one.
To hell with it. She put her iPad on her desk and lowered herself into her bed. She’d already thought everything to death and the facts weren’t going to change no matter how many times she ran them through her mind. Nor was she going to come up with a good reason for what Brett had done because for a sane person, there was no good reason for what Brett had done. She needed to go to sleep and give the headache time to go away and her knee a chance to heal. Sitting here fretting over everything was only making it worse.
It took only seconds for her to drift away.
Thomas lifted the ceiling tile and peered down into Tara’s room. She was lying in the bed facing him and her eyes were closed. He spotted the empty water bottle on her desk and smiled. Things might have gotten off a bit, but he was about to get them back on track. Everyone who’d contributed to the ruination of his life had paid. The nosy one hadn’t been on his original list, but she’d caused all the problems he had now by bringing Shaye Archer in.
This was the last one. Then he’d disappear. A new identity. A new place. A new future.
He’d heard the nosy one on the phone earlier and knew that the police had questioned Brett Frazier. Thomas had no idea how he’d gotten out of the shed, but he didn’t care. If the police had put a tail on him, then he was a suspect, and as long as the police were focused on someone else, it gave Thomas even more room to operate. But that might not last forever.
Still, even if the police ever figured out it was Thomas, he’d be long gone. And they’d never find him where he was going. One of the huge advantages to being so smart was the ability to create a new identity and become fluent at other languages. With five languages under his belt, Thomas had a lot of options. Maybe when he got where he was going, he’d send Brett a keg of beer as a thank-you, assuming Brett wasn’t rotting somewhere in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.
He pushed the tile completely to the side and turned around, lowering himself down the side of the dorm wall, legs first. When his arms were fully extended, he let go and dropped onto the roommate’s bed. It creaked some but otherwise, his entry into the room had been silent. He reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out the plastic bag and duct tape.
This one was going to be easy and his best feat yet. He’d tape the nosy one up, let himself out of her room, and simply walk out of the dorm. Right past the officers parked out front in the plumbing van. Did they really think that would fool him?
He was so much smarter than them and he almost hoped they would eventually figure out who the real killer was. Then his cunning could be recognized, maybe even recorded as a case study for how to let the bad guy get away. The thought amused him.
But now was not the time to bask in his own cleverness. It was time to finish the job.
He placed the tape on the desk and grabbed the plastic bag with both hands.
22
In her dream, Tara heard someone moving around her room, then her mind sharpened and she realized it wasn’
t a dream. She opened her eyes and saw the clerk from the convenience store standing over her with a plastic bag, moving it down toward her head. For a split second, she was so stunned that she didn’t do anything at all. What was his name? Thomas? Thomas was the killer? They barely knew him.
Then she snapped back into reality and screamed as she bolted up from the bed, shoving Thomas’s arms away from her as she sprang. Thomas rocked back a step, but quickly regained his balance and launched for her, his hands reaching for her neck. She grabbed the can of Mace from her desk and swung around, spraying him directly in the face.
He let out a cry and stumbled backward into the door, completely blocking her exit. Tara looked for something to hit him with, but the room began to spin again and she felt her knees weaken. Even if she had a baseball bat, she wouldn’t have the strength to take him out. She looked at the bedroom window and at Thomas, who was blinking wildly, trying to lock in on her.
Seeing no other option, she pushed open the window and lowered herself over the edge. Thomas grabbed her arms and tried to pull her back inside. She screamed again but he held fast and she felt her body scraping against the bricks as it inched back upward. She jerked her head over to the side and clamped her teeth down on his arm.
Thomas yelled and let go of her. She grabbed at the ledge, hoping to lower herself before dropping, but she was too weak. Her arms slipped from the window and she plummeted to the ground. Her legs buckled as she hit, and she fell over and rolled down the slight incline behind the dorm. She looked up and saw Thomas looking out the window, trying to focus his damaged eyes on her. A second later, he flung a leg over the ledge.
He was coming after her.
She forced herself up, gasping in agony over her knee. Her chest constricted so hard it sucked the breath right out of her. This couldn’t be happening. After everything she’d been through, her heart could not give out on her now. Everything was slightly blurry, she could barely breathe, and her knee felt all but destroyed, but she didn’t care. She half limped, half ran as fast as she could for the corner of the building. If she could get around the building to the parking lot, she would have help.
The nightmare would be over.
Shaye flew into the parking lot and squealed to a stop right in front of the entry to the dorm, not even remotely concerned that it wasn’t meant for parking. The detectives staking out the parking lot were already entering the dorm so she yanked off her wig and ran after them. Her legs were a little wobbly and everything was still a bit blurry, but none of that mattered.
She ran up the stairs after the detectives, yelling Tara’s dorm number at them and telling them to turn left off the staircase. By the time she caught up with them, they were banging on the door. Shaye yelled at Tara to open the door, but no one stirred inside. She pulled her cell phone out and called. A cell phone sounded inside the room but no one answered.
“Break it down,” she told them.
One of the detectives took a step back and launched at the door, but the dead bolt Shaye had installed held. He backed up and launched again, and this time, the cheap wooden door splintered in half and the detective fell inside. The second detective rushed in behind him, gun drawn, and Shaye hurried behind, but the room was empty.
“The window,” the second detective said and they ran over to peer outside.
“There!” Shaye pointed to Tara, who was running for the end of the building, Thomas not far behind.
“Go out the back exit,” the detective said, “and I’ll go out the front.”
They ran out of the room, Shaye hot on their heels, praying with every step that the detectives got to Tara before Thomas did. The drop from the window with her bad knee left her at a huge disadvantage, and that wasn’t even considering her heart. Shaye’s legs started to buckle as she ran down the stairs but she forced herself to steady them without slowing. She had to get to Tara. She’d promised the girl she’d be safe, and damned if Thomas was going to make a liar out of her.
Tara stumbled on a tree root and barely managed to stay upright. Adrenaline alone had kept her moving long after her knee wanted to give out. Her chest hurt so much it felt as if it were slowly tearing apart. She opened her mouth to try to yell again, but all that came out was a weak gasp. She simply didn’t have anything left in her lungs to give. Every part of her body was working beyond its limit just to keep her moving.
She knew Thomas was somewhere behind her. Hopefully, his vision was bad enough that it slowed him down, but she couldn’t count on it. The thick shrubs scattered throughout the green space provided some coverage but not enough to disappear in. She had to get to the front of the dorm before he caught up with her. She didn’t have the strength to fight him. If he caught her, it was all over.
A burst of hope rushed through her when she saw the end of the building and she rounded the corner, certain that help wasn’t far away.
And ran into a backhoe.
Her head slammed against the bucket of the machinery and she fell. The ground rushed up at her face and she thrust her arms out, trying to break her fall. She felt her wrist pop and her arm buckled, causing her to face-plant into the turf. The dizziness came back and everything started to spin. She forced herself onto her knees, her eyes filling with tears as rocks pressed into the tender skin of her injured knee.
When she’d run, she’d opted for the shortest path around the dorm, completely forgetting the construction and the temporary fencing that stretched a good thirty yards from the corner of the dorm. She looked behind her, afraid that Thomas would be standing there, grinning down at her as he had been in her room, but she couldn’t see him anywhere.
Knowing he couldn’t be far behind, she forced herself up from the ground, pain shooting through her wrist and knee as she shoved herself up. Her stomach rolled and she barely managed to keep from retching, but that was one more thing she didn’t have time for. She leaned forward, forcing her legs into action as she tried to focus on the fence. With every step she managed, the spinning increased in speed until her surroundings were a whirling blur. She reached out until she found the edge of the fence and increased her pace, keeping her fingertips in contact with the fence as she went.
She counted every step, trying to keep her brain from shutting down. With every movement, her body screamed at her to stop. Just give up. But she kept pushing. She had to be close to the end of the fence. It couldn’t be far.
When the first bullet whizzed by her head, it took her a second to realize what it was. She struggled to draw in a breath and could barely get enough air in to keep from passing out. Every intake felt like someone had taken an ax to her chest and each breath seemed quicker and more shallow than the one before. She stumbled to the side and lost contact with the fence, and flung her arm back out, desperate to find the metal again.
Her foot connected with something big and hard and she pitched to the side, right into the fence she’d been searching for. Her head connected with a metal post and everything went momentarily dark. She managed to bring herself back to consciousness, but it might have been better if she hadn’t.
Her vision cleared for just a moment and she saw Thomas walking toward her, a pistol leveled right at her head. He was smiling.
She pulled her one good leg up and circled her arms around it, ducking her head to her knee. She said a prayer for Ethan and her parents and prepared to die.
When the shot came, her entire body gave out, nothing left to give.
Pain rushed through her and she closed her eyes, waiting for it to end. She was barely conscious when she felt someone shake her shoulder.
“Tara? Can you hear me?”
The voice sounded so far away and at first, she thought she was in heaven and her grandfather was calling for her, but then a burst of pain shot through her head and when her eyes jerked open, she saw Detective Lamotte kneeling next to her.
“Can you hear me?” he asked again.
“Yes,” she barely managed to get the word out.
&
nbsp; “Good. Don’t try to talk anymore and don’t move. An ambulance is on the way.”
“Shot?” she asked.
“You’re going to be all right,” he said, not answering her question. “Just hold my hand and keep breathing. Try to relax.”
“Thomas,” she whispered and clutched her chest. She had to let them know who the killer was. He couldn’t get away.
“He’s dead.”
The tension left her shoulders and she started to cry.
It was over.
23
Jackson rushed into the hospital and paused at the reception desk just long enough to ask for Shaye before dashing off down the hall. He burst into the room without even knocking and hurried to the side of the bed and leaned over to cup Shaye’s face and kiss her. When he finished, he heard a whistle behind him and Shaye laughed.
He held in a groan as he turned and saw a grinning Eleonore and a pensive Corrine.
“Praise the Lord and get a room,” Eleonore said. “Oh, wait. Technically, this is Shaye’s room.” She stood and grabbed Corrine’s arm. “Let’s give them a moment.”
Corrine grabbed her purse and started to leave, but when she reached Jackson she stopped and stared at him for several long, uncomfortable seconds. He was just about to say something when she stepped forward and hugged him.
“Thank you for always looking out for her,” she whispered. Then she released him and hurried out with Eleonore.
Jackson turned to Shaye, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “That was surprising.”
“Well, it was quite an entrance,” she said.
Instantly, he felt contrite. “I’m sorry. You probably wanted to tell Corrine in your own time and I totally blew it.”
“Are you kidding me? You totally saved me that awkward conversation. I’ll just get a million questions. That I can handle. I’ve been doing it for years.”