“Oh, but it does,” Sylvie said. “At the very least, it means that your precious little boyfriend has been lying his ass off since it released last fall.”
“What about you?” I asked. “Evidence or not, I know you stole the tiara, Sylvie.”
“Come on, now, Bailey. I’d guess that you’ve already solved that mystery. Just like I’ve figured out why you came to my house the other night accusing me, instead of going straight to the police with that footage.”
“This should be good,” I said.
Sylvie looked at Owen, then back at me. She bit her lip, obviously unsure if she wanted to risk saying more. She took a deep breath before the words tumbled out: “It’s red and square. It comes with a command. And a threat.”
“Holy shit.” Wes’s voice was a whisper. “Holy fucking shit.”
“What?” Owen asked, swiveling around and looking up at Sylvie. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Little secret. It doesn’t really matter anymore, anyway.”
“How can it not matter?” I asked. “You’re getting them, too? It changes everything.”
“It changes nothing.”
Wes’s hands slipped from my arms as I stepped forward. “I want to see it.”
“Sorry.” Sylvie shrugged. “I burned it.”
“How could you—”
“Part of the instructions,” she replied. “You didn’t have to burn yours?”
“No. How many did you get?”
Sylvie smiled smugly. “I only got one, instructing me to move the tiara from the display case to locker number 207 in the girls’ locker room as soon as the Last Day Ceremony ended. But if you’re asking that, it means you’ve gotten more than one. And you’re in deeper than I imagined.”
“Sylvie,” I snapped. “You have to keep this to yourself. And you’d better keep Owen quiet, too.”
“Don’t worry. This is what they call a deadlock, right? You know my secret. I know yours. There’s nothing for either of us to gain if we go and tattle. I just have one question.”
“What?”
Sylvie’s eyes went hard, flashing with anger. “What do we do about Jude?”
CHAPTER 28
7:57 PM
“You heard from Hannah?” Tripp asked as he stepped out of his Jeep. He’d parked next to Wes’s truck in the parking lot of Cold Stone Creamery. “I thought she was meeting us.”
“She is,” I said, slipping out of the passenger seat of Wes’s truck and shoving the door closed with my hip. I tucked my phone in the side pocket of my purse. “She just texted me that she’s on her way. She said we should get our ice cream and wait on the benches outside for her. Took you long enough to get here, by the way.”
“Yeah, dude,” Wes said. “We’ve been waiting for at least ten minutes.”
“Sorry. It couldn’t be helped,” Tripp said as we made our way toward the front entrance of Cold Stone. “Did Hannah apologize for bailing last night?”
“No,” I said. “I figured she needed some space. Just chill, okay? She’ll be here.”
“She’d better be.” Tripp walked faster. “I need her tonight.”
“What’s the plan?” Wes asked, stepping into the sugary air of the ice cream shop. “And where have you been all day? I’ve tried calling you, like, five times. We ran into some major shit at O’Brien’s earlier.”
“Let’s just find this envelope. We’ll talk about the rest later.” Tripp ran a hand through his hair, his eyes scanning every face in the crowd. The shop was packed, and the line to place an order stretched from the cash register, across the pink-tiled floor, all the way to the entrance. “What’d last night’s clue say again?”
“Second to last stop in the hunt,” I recited from memory, my eyes locking on Tripp. “Hit the center of town and grab a few scoops. Then head outside and search ’til you find four essentials you’ll need to make it to the end: a clue, a map, a promise, and a warning. Happy hunting.”
“A clue, a map, a promise, and a warning,” Tripp repeated, his lips forming the words over and over as he stared off into the crowd. I wanted to pull him aside and ask him if he was okay. He looked a little wild, his eyes glassy, and he seemed distracted, on edge. He jumped when the bell on the door jangled and a new customer walked in behind us.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Jonsey and Lane stepping to the end of the line. The familiar ring of their laughter rose over the drone of the crowd. I did not want to get stuck talking with them, so I ducked in front of Wes.
I thought I was safe as we rounded the cooler, but a minute later, I heard the bell again, and then Jude’s voice. He sounded happy. Playful almost, as he teased the guys about wanting to meet up for ice cream. Lane made a crack about something, and Jonesy laughed.
“I’ll be right back,” Jude said, his voice suddenly serious. The line advanced, all shuffling feet and swaying bodies, and before I knew what was happening, Jude was by my side, his eyes locked on mine. “I was just coming over to see if your brother knew where I could find you. We still need to talk.”
And then his hand was on my arm, pulling me out of the line, away from Wes and Tripp. As Jude led me around a corner and into the hall leading to the bathrooms and kitchen, I looked over my shoulder. Tripp was holding Wes back, arm pressed against Wes’s chest to stop him from following.
We were alone—just Jude and me in that hallway. His hand slipped from my arm to my wrist, his fingers squeezing like he never wanted to let me go. The back door screeched as he shoved it open and pulled me into the lot behind Cold Stone.
“I need you to explain,” he said, twisting me around, blocking the doorway. “Why are you spending so much time with Wes when you promised me you’d stay away from him? Is he the reason you’re avoiding me?”
The air conditioning unit buzzed to life, jump-scaring me, its internal fan churning the scent of spoiled milk and rotting fruit toppings from the dumpster sitting in front of it.
“There’s something you need to explain before we get to that,” I said, hating the fear that made my voice shake. “I saw something today, Jude.”
His jaw clenched. “Don’t change the subject, Bailey.”
“A video,” I said, holding my head high, not wanting him to know that I was terrified. At least we were in a semi-public place and Tripp and Wes close by. “It was eerily similar to The Bakersville Dozen, but there was a lot more to it. Sound, for one. And new footage that revealed a lot more.”
Jude closed his eyes, ducking his head. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, setting off a wave of fear that surged through my body.
But I had to keep going.
“It’s not what you think,” Jude said. “I didn’t—”
“Not what I think? I heard you, Jude—your voice. I saw your reflection in the glass doors of the atrium. You were the one holding the camera.”
“That’s true.” He looked at me, his face softer now, his eyes pleading. “I shot the video of Sylvie, yeah. But not the rest of it.”
“How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe anything you say?”
“I obviously didn’t shoot the footage of us, B.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to arrange all of the information in an order that would make sense. Nothing fit. “I’m listening.”
“I shot the footage of Sylvie for Mr. Brewer. He shoved the camera in my hand when I got to the health rally that day, saying the video would be good for promoting the event next year. I didn’t just film Sylvie. I went around the entire rally, getting footage of all the different tables and activities. Look, B, somehow, someone took the footage off of the school camera and added it to that video. But I swear it wasn’t me. I would never, ever—”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell them that you filmed Sylvie’s section?”
“I did!” Jude said, his eyes wide. “I went to see Tiny Simmons last fall. He’s one of my cousin’s friends. He was almost done
with training, had his job lined up and all. I figured I could trust him enough to tell him everything. I was scared to death, afraid they’d analyze the video, see me, and think I was behind the whole thing. But he believed me. He took me in and sat with me as I told the story to the detective in charge of the case.”
“Oh,” I said, tucking my hands into the pockets of my jeans, suddenly feeling very stupid, not to mention horrible for accusing him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to. Really, I did. But the detective told me I couldn’t tell anyone. He said it might compromise the investigation, which was the last thing I wanted to do. I hated keeping anything from you but I didn’t have a choice.” Jude wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. His heart was beating, loud and clear and fast. He dropped his chin onto the top of my head and I let my body melt into his.
“I understand,” I said, my words lost in the whir of the air conditioning.
“Is it like that for you?” Jude whispered. “Whatever’s going on?”
“Yeah,” I said, my fingers gripping at the soft fabric of his T-shirt. “It’s awful, Jude.”
“You can tell me. Whatever it is.” He looked at me, his eyes shining in the dim light of the parking lot. “You’re safe with me.”
“I know.”
I stood on my tiptoes, bumping my nose against his before he pulled me in for a kiss. The screech of the door opening split us apart.
“Bailey?” It was Tripp, his body outlined by the bright light of the hallway behind him. “We gotta hit it.”
“You have to?” Jude asked, his voice a whisper.
I nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“We can finish up later.” Jude kissed my forehead. “For now, just be safe.”
I walked into the chaos of the ice cream shop, following Tripp down the hallway. Wes was waiting, leaning against the drinking fountain as he licked a scoop of black raspberry chip from the waffle cone in his hand.
“Here.” Wes handed me a bowl with a scoop of chocolate chunk, then turned, pushing his way out the main door. Tripp trailed behind me as I followed Wes out, deciding to ignore the silent treatment he was giving me. The wooden benches out front were crowded, so we huddled together, whispering.
“You found something?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Tripp said. “I didn’t want to grab it without you. In case someone’s watching.”
“We have to figure out what we’re going to do. We can’t just follow along. Not anymore. We need a solid plan.”
“I have a few ideas. But we’ve gotta get through this first.” Tripp thrust his chin at one of the streetlamps—a thick wooden pole covered with black-and-white posters advertising events in the area, handwritten, photocopied. Fluttering at the center was one item that did not match the rest: A bright red envelope.
I walked to the post and yanked the envelope from the tack holding it in place. After dumping my ice cream in the trash, I raced to the parking lot, tucking myself between Wes’s truck and Tripp’s Jeep before opening the flap and pulling the cardstock free. A small piece of paper fluttered to the ground at my feet. I bent to pick it up, but Wes was there already, eyes locked on a spider web of lines that criss-crossed the paper.
“It’s a map,” he said, his voice tight. “What’s the clue say?”
I looked down, the words blurring together. As I read, panic settled deep within my chest:
CONGRATULATIONS!
YOU’VE MADE IT TO THE FINAL CLUE.
IT’S TIME TO HEAD TO THE LAST STOP.
THIS ONE IS OUT THERE,
SO FOLLOW THE MAP.
CAN’T HAVE YOU GETTING LOST.
HURRY ALONG.
THE CLOCK IS
TICK, TICK, TICKING . . .
HERE’S THE PROMISE:
I HAVE
WHAT YOU ARE MISSING.
AND THE WARNING?
IF YOU DON’T PLAY THIS RIGHT,
YOU’LL NEVER SEE IT AGAIN.
P.S.:
CALL THE COPS
AND YOU ALL DIE.
HAPPY HUNTING!
“Am I supposed to understand what that means?” I asked.
“What are you missing?” Tripp asked, leaning against his Jeep. “JJ Hamilton?”
“Well, obviously, but—” My phone vibrated with the ringtone Hannah had programed for herself. I pulled it from my purse, swiping my finger across the screen.
“You’re late,” I said. “You texted that you were on your—”
“It’s not me texting you, Bailey! Not since I left last night.” Her voice was high-pitched, terrified, making my entire body go numb. “Don’t do it. Whatever the clue says, stay away from—”
I heard a shriek, then the sound of something slamming.
Next came the breathing, heavy and rushed.
And then the voice, robotic, distorted by the kind of device that I thought was only used in horror movies.
“You want her, come and get her. But you better hurry. She’s not going to last long.”
The line went dead. I stood frozen, the phone pressed against my face.
“Who was it?” Wes asked. “What’s happening?”
I looked at him, panicked.
“Hannah,” I said. “Hannah’s what I’m missing.”
“But I thought—”
“We have to save her. We haven’t been able to save anyone yet, but we have to save Han—”
Tripp’s phone rang. He went pale as he checked the caller ID, then accepted the call. “Right,” he said. “I understand.” After hanging up, he looked at me, his eyes tired and sad. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“No, Tripp! You can’t leave now. Hannah needs us. All of us.”
He grabbed the envelope from my hand, placing the clue and the map on the hood of his Jeep and snapping a picture of each.
“Looks like this is out near Laurel Falls. Should be easy for me to find you, right? What I’m doing, B, it’s part of my plan to end this once and for all. I can’t tell you anything yet, but I’ll come as soon as I can.” He looked at Wes. “I’m trusting you, man. Keep her safe.”
“You know I will,” Wes replied.
I climbed into the passenger seat of the truck, silent as Wes started the engine and backed out of the parking space.
As we pulled onto I-675, I gripped the door handle and focused on my breathing. I had no idea what I was about to face. Or if someone I trusted could somehow be in on it. But I was going in, all the way.
Hannah needed me.
And I planned to save her.
No matter what.
CHAPTER 29
9:37 PM
I looked out the window at the trees blurring by. Wes was speeding up a narrow backcountry road that twisted its way toward hills more than an hour outside of Bakersville, spiraling us toward the final location in the hunt. I glanced at him, the glowing lights from the dash spilling across his face, wanting to tell him to go faster. But faster would be dangerous, and he would probably do what I asked, so I kept my thoughts to myself. Hannah needed us.
My best friend had been taken along this very road against her will. All because she had been supporting me. I wondered if she’d been awake, terrified and trying to keep track of time and the distance as she was carried away. Or if whoever had taken her had made sure she would sleep through the trip. Either way, she was somewhere in the hills ahead, hidden away by a person who had murdered four of our classmates and then staged their bodies for me to find.
“I should have known something was wrong,” I said, my voice bouncing around the cab of the truck. “It shouldn’t have taken as long as it did for me to figure out that she was in trouble.”
“You thought she was texting you,” Wes said.
“But she wasn’t,” I said. “Not since she left last night.”
“How were you supposed to know—”
“She’s my best friend. I should have known.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.”
&nbs
p; “No, I’m not. I was too caught up in you—in the past—to see what was going on right in front of me.”
Wes glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. “Too caught up in accusing me, is more like it.”
“I’d be stupid not to consider all the angles. It could have been you.”
“You can accuse me of a lot, okay?” Wes’s voice cracked. “Of being a dumbass last summer, thinking I could just let go and move on. Of letting you push me away at Christmas when I should have made sure you understood how I really felt. Of leading you upstairs to my room, knowing you’d follow, hoping that one more night might be enough to make you see . . .”
“Make me see, what, exactly?” I asked.
“That I wasn’t over you. That I would never be over you. You can accuse me of playing games and of not being careful with your heart, but you can never, ever accuse me of trying to hurt you on a level as twisted as this hunt.”
I watched the road curve to the left, feeling the tires hug the pavement.
I wanted to believe him. But I couldn’t. Not about the hurting me part—I knew he would never put me in real danger. But hearing that he had kept his feelings to himself, that he felt the same way I had always felt about him . . . it didn’t feel real.
“You lied to me.”
“I never lied.”
“But you acted like I had meant nothing to you. As we got closer to the end of summer last year, I was hoping you might change your mind, that you’d at least try to see where things with us could go. But you left for college with barely a goodbye.”
“Our goodbye was at the pond,” Wes said. “It needed to be private.”
“That wasn’t goodbye,” I said. “It was the end. But it didn’t have to be. I was ready to tell Tripp, our parents, everyone how I felt about you.”
“Yeah, but I’d never been in a serious relationship. I was confused. Scared about how much I was feeling for you. Most of all, I was afraid I would hurt you in the end.” Wes chewed his lower lip for a moment, his eyes steady on the road. “Would it matter if I told you how sorry I am? How much I regret letting you walk away? When I found out about you and Jude, it almost killed me.”
The Bakersville Dozen Page 18