Little Creeping Things

by Chelsea Ichaso

  “I already told those detectives,” she says with a sigh. “My sister went out with a guy a few times. But she never told me his name. Just that he was great, funny, smart. Nothing helpful to the cops. I didn’t know Seth, but apparently he was a real bookworm. And the rest of it…” She shrugs.

  I pull in a scorching breath. “That’s all she said?”

  “Yeah. Why? Do you know something?”

  I shake my head. “No, no. If the cops say it’s Seth, then it’s Seth.”

  She looks at me warily. “That’s it? Well, bye, Cassidy.”

  I nod, even though her back is already turned to me. She lopes down the path, tossing her hair in exasperation.

  I take a frantic step back toward the parking lot, fumbling in my backpack for my keys, so I can unlock my bike. Thanks to Laura’s ever-looming presence, I’ve spent most of high school immune to Brandon’s charms. But even I’ll admit I was putty in his hands the night of the party.

  Maybe I’d been right when I joked about Melody crushing on him. If they hooked up, they’d both want to keep it a secret from Laura.

  And knowing Brandon’s obsession with Laura, he could have spotted her with Seth. What better way to get rid of your rival than to frame him for murder? Whoever took Melody out to the log had been planning it. Thoughtfully. Meticulously. And keeping his relationship a secret—from everybody—was all part of the plan. If no one knows your identity, no one can blab your name to the cops. Did I have the right killer on day one and let him slip away?

  I dig deeper into the backpack, but my keys aren’t turning up. Grunting, I dump the bag’s contents into the dirt and plunk down alongside them. Tears drip over my books and pencils as I rummage through the pile, still not hearing the familiar jangle.

  “Cass?” I look up to see Gideon. His reserved expression strikes me as completely foreign.

  Then I remember we’re strangers now. He said it himself.

  “I can’t find my keys.”

  “Want help?”

  “Sure,” I mutter, leaning away from the now-filthy heap.

  He bends down to sort through the paraphernalia. A moment later, he lifts his hand, and keys dangle between his fingers.

  “Thanks.” I take the keys, but my hand lingers. “Giddy, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but if I don’t speak to someone… I just don’t know what to do.” My voice cracks and Gideon kneels down in the dirt beside me.

  “What is it? Laura?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I mean yes, but it’s not about the fire. I wish that was it. I—can we walk? I don’t want to talk about this here.”

  He stares at me for too long, distrustful, but nods. “Sure.” He pulls me to my feet and releases my hand. We amble down the road from the school, and I kick at uneven patches of asphalt that refuse to smooth. Gideon’s hands are in his pockets. “What’s going on?”

  My gaze flicks to the trees. The killer—whoever he is—has eyes everywhere. How else could he have known Laura and Seth were together when no one else did? “I spoke to Laura,” I whisper. “Actually, she spoke to me. She said she was Seth’s secret girlfriend. That she was his alibi, but she’s never told anyone because the killer keeps leaving her threatening notes.”

  “What?” His voice is drenched in skepticism.

  “That’s what I thought. But why would she lie?”

  “Maybe she’s wrong about the timeline.”

  “That’s the thing. She said she left right after us, during seventh period, and went straight to Seth’s house.”

  Gideon’s brows furrow. “We have to tell someone.”

  We’ve wandered off of the road and are shrouded in greenery and shadows. The occasional car zooms past. Houses stagger the opposite side of the woods, too far away to make out their shapes through the foliage. Even so, I keep my voice low. “I know, but if we do, the killer could make good on his threat. Laura says he’s been putting cards on her windshield, telling her to keep quiet. He put that hair in the trunk of Seth’s car.”

  “Does she know who it is?”

  “No. Don’t get mad, but I think it was Brandon. Just hear me out,” I say before he can groan. “He was in love with Laura. Melody and Seth were the two people who came between them.” I take his silence as a good sign. “So, I think he killed one and framed the other.”

  Gideon’s eyes widen, and hope flickers in my chest. Maybe he’ll finally open up to the possibility that I’m not some unhinged, selfish killer.

  But Brandon is.

  “It’s not enough, Cass.” My hope fizzles again. “Some cards, you thinking it was his voice. It doesn’t trump the photos and the DNA evidence.”

  “But Seth didn’t do it. He has an alibi!”

  “Then we’ll tell the cops. They can figure it out.”

  “But what about Laura? We can’t just let Brandon do something to her like he did to Melody.”

  Gideon turns, pressing farther into the woods.

  “Where are you going?” I call, following him.

  “I don’t know. I just…can’t think clearly.” He paces back and forth, rubbing his temples. “If Brandon’s still in love with Laura, he wouldn’t hurt her, would he?”

  “To silence her? Of course he would!”

  “Where is Laura?”

  “Back at school. I’m supposed to be with her at practice, but I wanted to talk to Gracie.”

  He swivels to face me. “Did you?”

  “Yeah. She said Melody was seeing someone.”

  Gideon’s face blanches.

  “I’m telling you, Giddy. It fits.”

  His head tilts back and his eyes close against the sunlight filtering through the treetops. A moment later, he looks at me, lips pursed. “Fine. Call Laura. Tell her to go straight home and we’ll come get her. No one’s going to try anything if the three of us are together.”

  I dial, but it goes straight to Laura’s irritating voicemail. “She’s not answering.” I try again, with no luck. “She should be out by now. Why isn’t she answering?”

  “Maybe when you didn’t show up for practice, she decided to go to the cops. Don’t panic, Cass. I’m still not convinced Brandon would do anything to her.”

  We reach my street, and I breathe a sigh of relief that Asher’s car is parked in our driveway. Gideon left his truck in the school parking lot, and we can’t afford to waste precious time walking to Laura’s house. I try Tina’s number, but she doesn’t answer either. I let out a growl. “We’re not allowed to bring our phones into the gym. Call Peter. He was staying after school for a tutoring session. Maybe he can swing by the gym and see if practice ran late. I’ll run inside and grab Asher’s keys.”

  “Okay, but Cass.” Gideon takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  It feels different from when he used to take my hand when we were kids. It feels like the time we sat together on the log. My shoulders relax.

  I duck inside the house, scurrying through the foyer and down the hall. Asher’s door is shut, so I pound on it.

  “Coming,” calls Asher’s muffled voice. He opens the door and speaks through a yawn. “Hey, Cass. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Can Gideon and I borrow your car real quick? We have an errand to run, but we walked here, so—it’s a long story.”

  Asher hoists a brow. “So then, everything’s good with you two?”

  I nod, too fast. “Yep. Back to normal. So, the car?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. You guys wanna hang out after this errand?” He grins slyly.

  I roll my eyes. “Stop being weird, Asher. But yes, we can meet you at Gina’s later. I’ll text you.”

  “Sounds good. Don’t have too much fun.”

  “See you.” I dash into the kitchen, grab Asher’s keys from the hook, and head out the front door.r />
  Gideon’s standing on the porch. I toss him the keys and we hurry to Asher’s car. “Did you get hold of Peter?”

  “Yeah, but he said Laura wasn’t in the gym.”

  “No, no, no. This isn’t good. I’ve left her two messages and probably six texts. Why isn’t she calling me back?”

  “It’ll be fine. Let’s check her house. If she’s not there, we’ll go to the sheriff.”

  “I don’t know. This is all—I just can’t mess up again, Giddy. After Sara and Melody. I don’t know what I’ll do if I mess up again.”

  Gideon puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from getting in the car. He twists me around to face him, and I try to hide my quivering lower lip. “You’re not going to mess up anything, Cass. I’m sorry I made you feel like everything was your fault. I was horrible. I know you were scared that day, and I should never have blamed Melody’s death on you. Can you forgive me?”

  His arms enfold me and I blink away tears, my lashes dusting his shirt as I nod.

  Gideon’s voice is low and frayed. “I’m not me without you. I need you back.”

  The words settle in my ears, wrapping around all the hurt and broken parts like bandages. “You have me,” I whisper, looking up at him. His eyes melt away my fears and I straighten up, knowing my purpose for the first time in weeks. “Let’s go get Laura.”

  My phone dings in my pocket and I dig it out. An anonymous number again.

  Tell Laura to keep her mouth shut, or she’s next.

  My heart jolts in my rib cage. This is it—confirmation that Seth, who’s locked in a cell, couldn’t have done it.

  The killer’s still out there.

  Gideon leans in. “What is it? Cass, your face. You’re completely pale.”

  There’s no point in hiding it. I shove the phone into his hands.

  He lowers the phone a few seconds later. “This guy needs to be locked up,” he says through his teeth.

  “But if we go to the cops, he’ll kill her.” Tears coat my lashes.

  “We have to find her and make sure she’s safe.”

  “I’ll call her again,” I say, taking my phone back. I dial, but it goes to Laura’s voicemail. I clamp my teeth and send a text. Call me ASAP. You’re in danger.

  Gideon looks at me, the corners of his eyes creased. “Do you think he already has her?”

  “He must. She would’ve answered her phone. I’m calling Detective Sawyer.”

  Gideon nods. “Cass, don’t worry about the notebook or any of it. All that matters is getting Laura back safely.”

  “I know.” Gideon pulls me close to him as I dial.

  Right now, getting locked up is the least of my worries.

  28

  We’re halfway to Laura’s house when my phone rings. Sheriff Henderson. “Cassidy?”

  “Yes, Sheriff?”

  “I’m at the Gellman place, and Laura’s fine. She’s sitting here watching television. Guess she didn’t hear her phone.”

  I exhale and mouth to Gideon that she’s fine. “Okay, but you can’t leave her there alone.”

  “I’m still out front. Why don’t you come by here and make a statement? The detectives are on their way, and they’ll want to know exactly what’s going on.”

  “Already on my way.”

  A few minutes later, Sheriff Henderson leads us inside the Gellman residence, where the detectives are waiting in the living room. Laura is seated on a cushiony beige chair, eyes large and elbows tucked in front of her. The entire house reeks of that perfume she wears.

  “Go ahead and have a seat,” says Detectives Reyes. “Let’s start from the beginning. Miss Pratt, what gave you reason to believe that Miss Gellman here was in danger?”

  “I received a threatening text message.” I hand my phone to the detective. He looks over it before passing it to his partner.

  Detective Sawyer shows Laura the message. “What is this in reference to? Keep her mouth shut about what?” She looks at Laura, whose shoulders slump.

  Then her shoulders rise. And fall. “I have no idea, Detectives.”

  My eyes stretch wide open and I jump out of my seat. “Laura, tell the truth!” I turn back to Detective Sawyer. “She’s lying. Look at the text.”

  “Honestly, it’s a bit odd,” she says, examining the message again. “And vague. It doesn’t say what Laura is supposed to keep quiet about.”

  I glare at Laura again, and her lips twitch. At least, I think they do. Was this a setup? Did she purposefully not answer her phone in order to mess with me? “Someone is just trying to make me look crazy,” I say as the room spins around me. “Laura, please don’t do this. You’re letting the real killer go free. Seth—your boyfriend—is going to jail for the rest of his life.”

  Laura flinches and looks to the detectives for help. “My boyfriend? Gross. Seth wasn’t my boyfriend.”

  Or maybe I am crazy.

  “Detectives,” Laura continues, “I don’t know what’s going on here. Cassidy, as you may be aware, has a pretty sketchy past, so—”

  “Shut up, Laura,” I growl. “You told me not two hours ago that you were with Seth on the day of Melody’s murder. That he was your secret boyfriend.” At the words secret boyfriend, Sheriff Henderson lifts a skeptical brow. “But you couldn’t tell anyone else because you were threatened! Show them the cards!”

  Laura’s doe eyes divert back to the detectives.

  I look at Gideon. “Tell them about the cards.”

  “I didn’t see the cards, Cass,” he says, wincing. “You told me about them.” I fall back into my chair with a thud. Gideon wasn’t there when Laura told me about Seth.

  I blink to find the white ceiling beneath me and the cream-colored carpet above. “I don’t know why she’s lying.” I blink again, looking up to find Sheriff Henderson’s eyes drifting. I can’t even look at Laura, or I’ll tear her to pieces right in front of the law.

  “Okay, okay, Miss Pratt,” Detective Reyes says, standing up. “You girls obviously don’t get along, but this is a murder investigation.”

  “But it’s—” I lob another panicked glance Gideon’s way, but his eyes are on the carpet. He thinks I imagined it all.

  And he might be right.

  I stand up, fist curled. “This is wrong, Laura, and you know it. You really are a coward if you keep quiet now. You’re letting the real killer go free.”

  Detective Reyes takes a few careful steps and places a hand on my shoulder. “Miss Pratt, I think you should go home and get some rest. We’re confident we’ve got the guy who did this.”

  “You’re wrong,” I say. But my voice is timid because I’m not sure he is. I hasten out the front door and down the porch steps, Gideon close behind. At the bottom of the steps, I pause, twisting around to view the Gellman residence one last time.

  No, I’m not sure anymore. The only thing I’m really sure of is an itching in my fingers. It’s a familiar sensation. I rub my fingers together, but it’s still there. That itch to feel the click of the lighter. The sensation squirms up through my veins, all the way to my eyes. My eyeballs are actually itching.

  They’re itching to see this place go up in flames.

  * * *

  Gideon and I get back into the car and begin the drive to my house in silence. He stares straight ahead, hands rigid over the steering wheel.

  “Cass—”

  “You don’t have to say it,” I interrupt. “I am now officially crazy.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say. But, I do think you need to let all of this go. I don’t know what’s going on—”

  “Come on, Gideon. Everyone else in this town gets it. My entire life I’ve been Fire Girl. The girl who killed Sara Leeds and almost killed her own brother. Everyone loves talking about how it wasn’t really an accident. That I started the fire on purpose a
nd I’ll do it again.” I breathe in, allowing my fingernails to dig into my palms. “And deep down, they were right. I might as well have killed Melody Davenport myself. I’m dangerous.”

  Gideon is silent.

  My face crumples. My entire body crumples. “You see it now too.”

  He shakes his head. “No. This is Laura, like always. She’s messing with you. The text message, the cards. She’s having one more round of fun at your expense.” One of his hands lifts from the wheel. “It’s not fair that everyone targets you, Cass. This Fire Girl, I don’t know her. I know you.” He turns to me, narrowing his eyes. “But I’m worried you’re letting this other girl take over your life. It’s like you’re becoming her.”

  Gideon parks in the driveway. He leans over, pressing his lips to my head and peering down at me. “Let’s get you inside so you can rest. Tomorrow, we’ll put all of this behind us.”

  I let him walk me up the porch steps and through the door. He grips my hand like I’m a small child crossing the street. Like I can’t be trusted not to run into oncoming traffic.

  Inside, I bat away the tears as he runs a hand over my shoulder. “I can stay if you want, but you should probably rest.”

  I shrug. I should try to sleep all of this off. Maybe I’ll wake up to find Laura laughing with the rest of the team about how I spouted off a bunch of insane nonsense in front of two detectives and a sheriff.

  “Cass, look at me.” I try, but looking him in the eyes is physically painful. It makes me feel like I could just collapse onto the foyer floor and never get up again. He gives my hand a squeeze, then nudges my back. “I’ve known you since second grade—more than half of our lives—and you’re not crazy. Get to bed. I’ll tell your mom you’re not feeling well. We’ll sort this Laura stuff out tomorrow. If she lied to you, I won’t let her get away with it.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble, trying and failing to smile. I walk down the hall, closing my bedroom door behind me. I dive into bed and pull the covers all the way past my head. There, in the suffocating darkness, the confusion and guilt envelop me.

  I rack my brain for one thing I know for certain. Any one thing I can hold on to with confidence. But there’s nothing. All I have is a scenario disturbingly similar to the one written in the notebook I handed to Brandon Alvarez. And a muffled voice.