Killer Moves (Horror High Series Book 3)

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  I was just about to burst into a fit of giggles when Dakota popped up with a piece of paper in her hand. “Guys, there was a note lodged inside the bush,” she said breathlessly. We all rushed over to read it.

  The handwriting was sloppy and looked to have been done in pencil. Unlike the letter in the locker room stall, or letters in the past, this one had been done in a hurry:

  Win or lose,

  I have a blast

  I knew your relationship

  Would never last

  Ronnie’s on top

  Dakota’s on bottom

  Say cheese

  Got ’em

  Chapter

  Thirty-Five

  The smoke alarm was going off. Jordan ran inside to pull his cake from the oven, while Dakota gripped the note, knuckles white.

  “Come inside, I’ll get you some water,” I offered, resting my hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, wadding up the note in a ball.

  “You shouldn’t do that! The police might need it for evidence!” Amanda shouted. But Dakota wasn’t listening.

  She walked toward the open sliding door, and made her way straight for the couch. She plopped down on it, staring at the ball of paper in her hands.

  Amanda and I followed, sitting beside her on the couch. I didn’t know what to say…

  “Andy will get over it. Trust me, he will,” I tried to comfort her.

  “No, he won’t,” she said miserably.

  “The important question is: who would do this?” Amanda asked, prying the note from Dakota’s hand. She tried to unfurl it, smoothing out the tears and wrinkles.

  “Mariella wrote the letters last year, but Mariella is dead. This doesn’t make any sense at all…”

  “How do you know Mariella wrote the letters?” I asked, looking over her shoulder at the scrawled handwriting. It almost looked like a guy wrote it, I observed.

  “It was her. I know it was,” Dakota said, her eyes far off and glassy. “Amanda?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you remember when she was behind us in the hallway, with the gun? She was chanting. That ‘One, two, three’ chant. And we know it was her because we killed her.”

  Amanda nodded, gripping both sides of the letter. “So, this is somebody else trying to imitate the letters. Is that what you think?” she asked.

  “Wait.” Jordan came around the counter, gripping plates of semi-burned cake in his hands. “The papers said Mariella left a note, claiming she was avenging Genevieve. She said you all were harassing Genevieve with letters and phone calls, and then you killed her. Or something like that, right?”

  “Right. I remember that,” I said, joining in the conversation. I knew where my brother was going with this.

  “If Mariella thought you all were writing letters, similar to the letters you were getting from the sociopath—maybe she was taunting you with what she thought were your chants. She was pushed by someone, and that same someone manipulated Ashleigh Westerfield too.” Jordan set the pieces of cake on the coffee table, then went back for forks.

  “What if he’s right?” Dakota asked, looking over at Amanda. They stared at each other silently. I couldn’t help feeling left out of the loop.

  Dakota picked up her piece of cake, poking at it with her fork. “Someone has been playing us like puppets all along. All along…”

  We all ate our cake, staying quiet.

  “Did you know it’s my birthday this weekend?” Amanda asked, interrupting the silence. She pointed her fork at the cake in her hand, smiling at Jordan. He laughed.

  “No, but if I’d have known it was your birthday, I would have tried harder on the cake,” he teased.

  They were smiling at each other, but Dakota still looked forlorn.

  Amanda had moved from the couch to the kitchen. She and Jordan were leaning close, talking. I rolled my eyes. I don’t know what it is about my brother and girls, but he sucks them in every time. Surely, she won’t fall for it again, I thought.

  But that’s exactly what seemed to be happening. Jordan wiped icing from her nose.

  “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we have a party for Amanda’s birthday this weekend? Our parents are out of town. We could do something really fun,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. I thought we were trying to find a murderer, not plan a party,” Dakota snapped. Good point.

  Jordan held up his hands in defense. “My bad.”

  “It’s actually not a bad idea,” I said, perking up. Dakota shot me a hateful glance.

  “No, seriously. Hear me out. I’ll talk to Andy, get him to come. It will be a perfect opportunity for the two of you to mend fences.”

  Dakota shrugged, looking doubtful.

  “And something,” I continued. “If the sociopath was going to turn up anywhere, he or she would definitely come to the party. Maybe we could set up cameras, or figure out a way to keep watch on everyone. It’ll be like a recon mission, to gain info and to hook you back up with Andy, where you belong.”

  “And a chance to celebrate this lovely lady’s birthday!” Jordan chimed in, still looking Amanda up and down.

  I stared at Dakota, wondering if she’d go for it. She shrugged again. “Okay, I guess. Let’s do it,” she finally relented.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Six

  Sydney

  A party? It still seemed so silly, I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. We’d been through so much these last couple years. Death, injuries, trauma…a bombing. And now we’re having a party?

  But if anyone deserved one, it was Amanda. She was traumatized before she even came to this school. Her father was the infamous Terrance Loxx. He was a thug who robbed a bank, but in the process, he murdered nearly ten people and then got shot down himself by the police. His ten-year-old daughter Amanda was there to witness his death. And as though her life wasn’t troubled enough, she had to deal with the sociopath, her grandma’s cancer, and her mother’s struggle with addiction.

  She’s had a hard life, and if anyone deserves a proper birthday party, it’s her, I decided.

  As I pulled into the parking lot at Horror High, which seemed to be earning its name lately, I noticed right away that something was wrong.

  Caution tape blocked the entrance to school, kids gathered all around, talking in cliques. Traffic was moving against me; buses leaving instead of arriving, kids pulling away from school.

  What is going on? I wondered.

  I parked next to Winter’s blue Celica. She was sitting in her car by herself, texting away on her cell phone. When she saw me pull up, she dropped her phone and hopped out.

  “I was just texting you all! Did you hear the news?”

  Oh, no. More bad news…

  “Detective Hudson was murdered.”

  My mouth fell open in surprise. I got out, leaning against the car. Shock rocked through my body. I was having flashbacks of last year.

  “Do they know what happened?” I asked, squinting to see what was going on beyond the caution tape. But there didn’t seem to be anything going on outside the building. Officers were going in and out, plastic evidence bags and forensic kits in their hands.

  I recognized a few of the teachers, encouraging kids to return to their vehicles or buses. School was obviously closed…now that it was a crime scene.

  “It’s not like this is the first time it’s been a crime scene,” I said, tucking my hands in my pockets. My shoulders trembled.

  I’d never met Detective Hudson. She’d obviously been called in yesterday to investigate the prank with the dummy in the locker room. Apparently, someone had killed her in the process…

  “Can I tell you something?” Winter asked, her face paler than usual. “I saw her police cruiser here last night, after we went to see Ashleigh. You all pulled away before I could stop you, but I was going to investigate, try to talk to her to see what she’d found. The door was open, so I went in. But it was so dark and eerily quiet that I got scared and ran back to my car.”

  I
tried not to look as shocked as I felt. “That was stupid, Winter. You could have been killed.”

  “Yeah, or I could have saved Detective Hudson’s life. I should have known something was wrong, her car abandoned like that with the school so dark and empty.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” I said, trying to reassure her. “And you couldn’t have stopped it either, Winter.” I looked back at the caution tape, a sick feeling in my stomach. “It could have been you in there.”

  “Girls, everyone has been instructed to board your scheduled bus or get back inside your vehicles. School is cancelled for the day!” It was Coach Davis in the parking lot, shooing us and other groups of kids away. “Be safe, girls,” she told us, her expression worried and grim.

  She didn’t have to tell me twice. I waved goodbye to Winter and climbed back inside my car. But first, I texted Dakota and Lauren, telling them the news.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Seven

  Eager to get home and talk to my mom, I broke the speed limit as I shifted gears and laid my foot down on the gas. I should have been worried about getting pulled over, but the entire police force was at Horror High right now…

  I whipped into my driveway, surprised by how dark my house looked. I crept inside, remembering the hooded figure I thought I’d seen the night of the storm. Those thoughts led to thoughts of the bombing…I shook my head, trying to forget as I got out and ran inside.

  Inside, I was surprised to find the TVs off and most of the lights off too.

  “Mom? Dad?” I peeked inside their bedroom. Clothes were scattered on the floor, the bed unmade, which seemed unusual for them.

  I went to the door attached to the laundry room, opened it, and peeked inside the garage. The Mercedes was gone. A truck my dad used on occasion was in there, but the chances of them being gone looked pretty good.

  I really need them to come home.

  I took out my cell phone, preparing to text my mother, when I saw the note on the table. I set down my backpack and took a seat, frowning down at my father’s handwriting.

  Syd,

  We had to take a quick trip to Montreal. Emergency business. I’m sorry, but it’s something we had to handle.

  There’s several hundred dollars on your bedroom dresser. Feel free to eat out, go shopping. Call us if you need us.

  Love,

  Dad

  Rolling up the note in a tight ball, I tossed it across the kitchen. It bounced off the garbage can and hit the ground. Growling, I pushed the kitchen chair back and paced.

  They promised me they’d stay home with me for the rest of the school year. They promised.

  I picked the note up off the floor and opened it, reading’s Dad’s messy writing. A short trip to Montreal. As though it’s only a day’s drive away! I thought angrily. I’m sick of them abandoning me.

  I threw the note away and pulled out the blender, intent on making a smoothie. The television set my parents watched in the mornings sat on the counter next to the coffee pot. I flipped it on, gathering cartons of fresh strawberries, blueberries, and pineapple chunks.

  The channel 3 news was on, my parents’ preferred station. I turned the blender on, seeing but not hearing about the coverage from Horror High.

  Reporters had arrived from bigger, neighboring towns and they flooded the edges of the caution tape, asking the officers questions and speculating about what had happened to Detective Hudson.

  A peppy reporter with white-blonde hair and perfect white teeth flashed on the screen. She looked composed and businesslike, wearing a frozen smile as though she were reporting from somewhere other than a crime scene…

  I fought the urge to reach over and turn it off.

  “Sources say that Detective Helina Hudson was called to the school yesterday after a seemingly childish prank. But what started out as a prank has resulted in a blood bath, and a tragedy for the young detective. On the job for less than three months, she came here from Atlanta in hopes of a quieter life. Unfortunately for her, she got the opposite. Cause of death is unknown at this time, but sources within the department confirmed her death as a homicide.” The camera flashed to a wide shot of the school.

  “Needless to say, there’s no school today at Harrow High. But for the students here, that is nothing new. This school has a long history of violence—a brutal murder of a cheerleader, a tragic school shooting that ended in multiple deaths, and there was even an incident involving the school’s cheerleaders at a competition in Tennessee. A bomb went off, resulting in nearly two dozen serious and minor injuries. One of the local students remains in a coma…”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking of poor Gabi.

  Dumping my fruit in the blender, I tried to shut out the sound of the reporter’s voice.

  “Residents have had enough. Rumor has it, there’s a petition going around. Some people are demanding that Harrow Hill—recently nicknamed Horror High—shut its doors for good. Although I’d rarely advocate for a school closing, after all of the violence this town has had to endure, I’m inclined to agree.”

  Shut down Harrow High? I nearly dropped the empty cartons of fruit from my hand.

  If they shut it down, where would we go to school? Crimson, maybe?

  Shutting down seemed like an extreme move, but at the same time, I had to admit…school had become a scary, dangerous place, and using the nickname Horror High was putting it lightly.

  I turned the blender on, watching the rotating blades at the bottom as they sliced and mashed the soft fruit. Reds and blues mixed together, a gruesome immersion that made my stomach twist and turn.

  I took my finger off the button and ran outside, promptly vomiting on the grass in my backyard.

  I stood there gasping, the wet summer heat making my nausea worse…I tried not to think about Genevieve’s dead body and Gabi wriggling on the floor in pain, all those scary nights by myself in juvie…but flashes of memory sliced through my brain, taking over my body.

  When I finally caught my breath, I went inside and called Dakota. “I can’t be alone. I just can’t,” I gasped into the phone.

  “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in less than ten minutes,” she promised, hanging up.

  I sat at the kitchen table, and avoided looking at the fleshy fruit as I waited for my friend to arrive. If there was one good thing about Harrow Hill, it was my friends. At least I could still trust them…

  Chapter

  Thirty-Eight

  We woke to the sounds of people pounding. I jerked up from the couch, nearly knocking Dakota off the opposite end.

  Someone was pounding on the front door. “What the hell?” Dakota said, placing a pillow over her head.

  I was almost afraid to open it. What if the police were back, accusing me of another crime?

  I was tempted to beg Dakota to answer, while I went somewhere to hide…

  “Sydney, are you home?” I recognized the sound of Amanda’s voice on the other side.

  Relieved, I threw open the door, surprised to find not only Amanda, but Lauren and Winter as well.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly feeling fearful. I couldn’t take any more bad news…

  “Something’s happened, but it’s not bad. Gabi is awake.”

  Chapter

  Thirty-Nine

  The nurse who greeted us in the waiting room was a no-nonsense, non-smiling, soft spoken woman. She explained to us that only three people could go in to see her at a time and that the visits had to stay under twenty minutes.

  “We’re still unsure what the long-term effects will be. Her eyes are open and she’s breathing on her own, but we still don’t know the degree to which her cerebral cortex or cognition have been impaired. Also, she’s not talking yet. Please don’t push her to talk or move. We’re letting her come out of it at her own pace,” she explained.

  I felt my chest tightening. What if she laid there like that for the rest of her life—eyes moving and lungs breathing, but nothing else? It
sounded like something out of a horror movie.

  Moments later, we were greeted by her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Michaels.

  “Thank you so much for coming, girls,” Mrs. Michaels said, taking my hand. I tried to speak but my throat felt raw and itchy. For a moment, I wondered if I too had forgotten how to speak.

  “Thanks for letting us see her,” I said, finally choking out the words.

  “Maybe seeing you girls will help get her talking. I know she’ll be happy to see you,” said Mr. Michaels.

  Like the nurse said, only three of us were allowed in at a time. Lauren was like her best friend, so we all assumed she’d go in first. I stayed quiet, almost hoping I wouldn’t have to go in on the first round of visits.

  “You guys go ahead,” Dakota said, nodding at me and Winter. My heart fell.

  I wanted to see her, I really did, but I was scared of what she might look like or how I’d feel when I saw her. The youngest on our squad, she didn’t deserve any of this.

  Following behind Winter and Lauren, I entered a large white room. There was only one bed in the center of the room and a curtain was pulled around it. I hesitated, hiding behind the other two girls.

  But then Winter stepped aside and pulled me forward to where Gabi lay in the bed.

  Our designated flyer, Gabi had always looked small. But now she seemed tiny and frail, her arms like tiny white toothpicks draped over her chest.

  Her cheeks were sunken and striped with jagged scars from the bombing. Her eyes were open, moving back and forth, tracking our every movement.

  She could hear us.

  “Oh, Gabi!” Lauren said, reaching down for the girl, holding her in an awkward hug. Gabi’s mouth twitched like she wanted to say something.

  I almost encouraged her to, but then I remembered the nurse’s instructions and shut my mouth.