Ripper

by Lexi Blake

  I hopped out of the Jeep, noting that Liv’s little hybrid was still in the half full parking lot. The school went from kindergarten through high school. It was a small school, but they had lots of afterschool activities. At this hour, it would mostly be the high school kids left attending their Spanish club meetings or the mandatory “Dealing with Demons” seminar they held twice a year.

  “Hey, Kelsey,” I heard someone say.

  I glanced over and saw a young werewolf walking toward her car carrying a stack of books that I was surprised she could see over. Ellen Yardley was a student of Liv’s and I ran over to grab a couple of those books hindering her sight.

  “Thanks.” She was a lovely seventeen-year-old who would graduate in the spring. “It’s not the weight that bothers me, but boy, are those things unwieldy.”

  I laughed as she opened her trunk. “Is your teacher trying to kill you?”

  We dumped the books in the trunk. “No, it’s a book drive. It’s my service project. I’m collecting books for a big sale. All the seniors have booths and we’re donating the proceeds to the homeless.”

  “That’s great, Ellen.” My high school had been more about keggers and pot than helping the public. I wondered if Ellen knew those same people she was helping would likely kill her if they knew the truth about her. That was the world I’d grown up in. I kind of liked Ellen’s more. “I think y’all are doing some good work.”

  “Well, I’m glad you think so because I expect to see you there buying stuff,” the teen replied with a saucy smile. She hopped in her old sedan. “See you later!”

  I walked back to the building, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. I waved at some of the teachers heading out. They were supernaturals, too. They accepted me and most of them knew my background. They were just people trying to live their lives and do the best they could for their kids. I hated my father so much in that moment I had to shove the emotion down or I was sure the look on my face would scare the kids.

  I opened the door and walked down the hall to Liv’s room and decided to think about another emotion. I always felt it when I walked these halls and people called out cheery greetings. It was acceptance and sometimes it felt awfully close to redemption.

  Nope, I was still gonna kill her. She was making me tear up and I couldn’t accept that. I’m not the kind of girl who cries.

  I threw open the door, and Liv was sitting at her desk grading papers. She looked up with a sunny smile that immediately turned wary.

  “Okay,” she said in her most patient voice. “Maybe I shouldn’t have talked to Helen but…”

  My eyes narrowed. “No buts, Liv. You sold me out.”

  She snorted and rolled her brown eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. It’s one little case. You know you need something of substance. You can’t spend your whole life hiding from the world.”

  “No, I can’t hide from anyone if you keep giving away my hiding spot,” I pointed out. She was tapping her foot, the three-inch heeled shoes making a rhythm of judgment on the tiled floor. “Damn it, Liv, I’m not a missing persons expert.”

  Her eyes softened and she smiled. “Yes, you are. You’re an everything expert when it comes to this. You have amazing instincts, Kels. You just don’t trust them anymore. You have to stop punishing yourself.”

  Sitting against the edge of her desk, I crossed my arms defensively. “It seems like you’re the one punishing me.”

  “Again with the overdrama. You’re worse than my students.” She sighed and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “She needs you.”

  “And what if I can’t find her daughter?” I gave up on the angry approach. I couldn’t keep it up with her.

  She leaned beside me, letting our shoulders touch. We sat like that when one of us needed comfort. “Then you’ll at least have tried and Helen will know someone gave a damn. I’m not asking you to succeed, Kelsey. I’m asking you to try.”

  “Fine.” How was I supposed to say no to that?

  Liv gave me a hug. “Excellent. Now that we have that out of the way, I can move on to the freakier news.” Her pretty face twisted into a rueful grimace. “I’m moving to public school as soon as possible.”

  “But you love this school.” She was the one lying because I happened to know this was her dream job.

  “Yeah, well, at public school you don’t get memos like the one I got today.” She handed an important looking piece of paper my way. It was meant to catch the eye, printed on bright yellow paper so no one could possibly miss it. “That memo informs all teachers that no matter your chosen method of birth control, you should also begin using a condom.”

  “And you’re getting this advice from the principal, why?”

  “Because we have a fertility god in third grade this year who came into his powers over the summer,” she said with a playful frown. “Apparently being around the little sucker makes you ovulate. Mary, the third grade teacher, is already two months along.”

  I tried to place the name, but all I could see was a fifty-year-old with a sweet smile. That couldn’t be her. “But school’s only been in session for two months.”

  “Yup. That’s the point. It gets worse. Mary swears she went through menopause five years ago. Does Costco sell condoms? I’m making Scott put two of those babies on if he wants to touch me.”

  “Be really safe, go for three.” I sighed because the day was getting away from me. I’d already gone over all the information the super-organized Helen Taylor had left me. I had a list of all of Joanne’s contacts and every bit of information her mom could think of. I had her driver’s license number and her social security number. I had the names of her roommate, her RA in the dorm, and a schedule of her classes. The first thing I’d done was search some of the social networking sights for any sign of her.

  You would be surprised how often kids hide things from their parents that it would be so simple for them to discover if they checked their kid’s Facebook status. No luck with Joanne though. Her Instagram page hadn’t been updated since the week before and then all the smiling pic told me was she’d been studying for a Biology quiz. I needed to go and talk to her roommate. I wished I could say that Liv was wrong and I didn’t have any instincts, but something was telling me that the police were wrong.

  Joanne Taylor was in trouble and waiting until tomorrow to get started wasn’t in my nature. Now that I was on the case, I had to get going.

  “All right,” I said, pushing myself off the desk. “I need to get over to the SMU campus.”

  Liv smiled, seemingly excited at the prospect of my working something more interesting than a rear-end collision. “Do you want some company? I can play Watson to your Holmes.”

  I shook my head at the thought. “Sure. Come along and make sure I don’t spook the co-eds. I’m gonna run to the bathroom and then I’ll be good to go.”

  Liv pulled her shoulder-length auburn hair out of its sedate ponytail. “I have to call Scott and then I’ll be ready.”

  “What are you gonna call him? A douchebag?” I was only half joking. He really was a douchebag.

  “Ha ha,” Liv replied, her hand already on the phone.

  She dismissed me and I ran down to the nearest bathroom, carrying my version of a handbag. It was big. I’d heard someone call it a messenger bag once, but I’m not sure if there’s a technical term for it. It was where I kept the files I was working on. I also had a notebook, my phone, a bunch of business cards, and my little .38, which I had a permit for. I hadn’t needed to use it yet. So far all my clients had been polite and I was good enough to not get caught when I took pictures of cheaters. I opened the door to the bathroom and headed to the sink. If I was really honest with myself, I would admit I didn’t carry the gun because I was scared a client would get pissed. Deep down, I knew one day my father would show up again and I wanted to be ready.

  The cold water felt good on my hands, and I couldn’t quite resist the urge to splash it on my face. I wasn’t wearing much makeup anyway
. I took a deep breath and prepared myself to go back into that world I’d never really left behind. My best friend was a witch and I spent a lot of time at this school surrounded by teen werewolves and shifters and even a pre-teen fertility god.

  If my dad had any idea what went on at this school…I didn’t even want to think about it. He’d left town ten years ago and I hadn’t seen him since. I needed to stop hearing his footsteps behind me. Liv was right. I needed to come out of hiding. I needed to find a way to forgive myself for that day when I was sixteen.

  Not going there. I stared at the face in the mirror, so familiar and yet such a stranger at times. My dark brown hair was in a utilitarian ponytail. When I took it down, it would reach halfway down my back. It wasn’t practical, but I couldn’t bring myself to cut it. It was thick and had a natural wave to it that the humidity wreaked havoc on. I should cut it short, but I liked the way it looked. I liked the way it felt when a man’s hands ran through it. It made me feel feminine and pretty and sometimes it was the only thing that did.

  I’m not unattractive. My features are perfectly symmetrical and I have big brown eyes. My mouth is a little on the smallish side. I have a fit body, but I think my boobs are on the small side. I’d had men describe them as a nice handful, but they aren’t as round and lovely as Liv’s.

  That was what I needed. If I was going to get through this case, I needed a guy who thought I was hot. It had been a while since I got laid by an actual, real, doesn’t require Double A batteries man. I needed some mind blowingly good sex to take my mind off things. I grimaced at myself in the mirror. I didn’t exactly know anyone who could give me that. I’d tried a few one-night stands with guys I met at the local bar before I realized that drunken men are not the best lovers. I might need to settle for good sex. I needed something more than a one-night stand and less than an actual scary relationship.

  “Oh, god,” I heard Olivia say from the doorway. Her eyes were wide as she stared at me and she was shorter than before. She had changed into her beloved Converse. “You’re thinking about getting laid. That’s your ‘I can’t find a decent man’ face.”

  I turned. “I didn’t know I have a face for that.”

  She nodded seriously. “You do, indeed. You also have a ‘stay out of my business, Liv’ face.”

  It was my turn to nod. I was really sure I had that face. “I’m using that one right now.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip, a habit she’d had since I met her in tenth grade. “Yeah, that’s probably not happening. I think it’s a good sign that you’re interested in sex again. Come on. Put on your ‘serious PI’ face and let’s go back to college. It’ll be fun. Maybe we can find a hot college boy for you to play with. You’re a mysterious older woman. I bet they’ll go crazy for you.”

  I groaned at the thought of Liv pointing out potential boy toys the rest of the afternoon.

  But I put on a little lip-gloss before I left anyway.

  * * * *

  I turned off Mockingbird onto Ownby Drive while Liv shoved another CD into the player.

  “When you get all big time with this gig, I think we should get you a better car,” Liv said as she fiddled with the volume.

  “I like this car.” I’d had the blue Jeep since I was twenty. I’d gotten her after saving up for two years, and even then my mom had chipped in. Jamie had done the needed mechanical work to get her running at full speed and still did the upkeep on her. I had zero desire to drive anything nicer than the navy blue Jeep I’d lovingly kept running for the last six years.

  Liv laughed as I started looking for parking. “Do you ever get rid of anything? Okay, how about this? How about you get a couple of big paychecks and we replace the sound system in here?”

  “That’s a deal.” I had no idea where she thought those big paychecks would be coming from. Mrs. Taylor had given me a five hundred dollar retainer and I wasn’t sure she could afford much more than that.

  Liv liked her music loud and very rock and roll. Though she dressed like the high school teacher she was, her tastes tended toward hard rock and punk. I wondered if her students knew how much time we used to spend in clubs banging our heads and drinking beer. I always got wistful when I thought of those days. It seemed hard to believe they were gone. I was only twenty-six. I should still feel young, right?

  “Will you just park, please? The building is right there.” Liv pointed to the stately looking dormitory.

  “I have to look for an open visitor space. The campus police are always on the lookout for a ticket writing possibility.”

  She pointed. “Take that one right there.”

  It was a prime spot and obviously reserved for staff. I pulled in anyway because Liv can be bossy at times and I didn’t have the energy to argue with her over how far she had to walk. “I’m sending you the bill for the ticket.”

  She reached into her stylish bag. She pulled out a piece of plastic. It was shaped like one of those parking stickers that hang from your rearview mirror, but it was completely blank. “Oh, ye of little faith.” she said as she placed it properly.

  “New charm?”

  Liv was a practical witch. She was always looking for new ways to use her talents to make our lives less expensive.

  “They’ll see exactly what they expect to see,” she said with a proud grin on her face. “I already tested it out. I left my car at Love Field when Scott and I went to Vegas. I parked in the arrivals section for three days and presto…no ticket.”

  We got out of the car and started to walk up the lovely tree-lined sidewalks toward Joanne Taylor’s campus home.

  I reached in my bag and pulled out a business card. I hoped Helen Taylor had done her job as we approached the front desk. It was manned by an efficient-looking girl in her early twenties.

  “Hello, how may I help you?” Her nametag identified her as Sharon.

  I smiled my most professional smile as I handed her my business card. “Hi, Sharon. I’m Kelsey Atwood. Helen Taylor was supposed to call and inform…”

  Sharon’s eyes went big and tears started to form. “Yes, absolutely she did. The director told me you were coming. We all love Joanne. I can’t believe this is happening. Do you think it’s a serial killer? Do you think she’s just the first? How should I protect myself?”

  The questions were rapid fire and hit me with the blast of a machine gun. It was all I could do not to step back because she was leaning forward over her desk. I shot a look at Liv. We sometimes communicated silently.

  “And you call me overdramatic?” my eyes said.

  Liv shrugged because she had nothing for that.

  “Sharon, we have no reason to believe Joanne has done anything but freaked out a little and took an impromptu vacation. Really, that’s the likeliest possibility.” I was lying through my teeth, but if I didn’t then the rumors would run wild. “Her mom just wants me to look into it. How well do you know Joanne?”

  I wanted to smack Liv because she was staring at me with a maternally proud look on her face. I might be out of practice, but I knew how to handle a freaked-out girl. It was my experience that the most innocent of people tend to be the ones who freak out first. If you never struggled while growing up, it was harder to deal with the realities of the world when you got older. Sharon was obviously a child of privilege, and from her open face, I suspected that Mom and Dad loved their baby girl. I wasn’t about to begrudge the girl her happy childhood. The world needed Sharons to keep it a pleasant place.

  “She’s in my Spanish study group,” the blonde said. “We’ve also lived in the same dorm for two years. She’s a super-nice girl. She even gets along with that roomie of hers and let me tell you, that’s a job.”

  Interesting. I leaned closer. “Bitchy?”

  Sharon shook her head. “Try witchy.”

  Liv tensed beside me. “What do you mean?”

  Sharon was a fount of gossip. “You know, Cassie’s a Goth, but not like cutesy. She’s all pretentious and stuff. She talks about th
e goddess and Wicca and cursing people who do her wrong. It’s all weird, but I’m a Presbyterian and we’re supposed to be tolerant so I just smile and let her talk. It kind of freaks me out, though. It didn’t seem to bother Jo.”

  I bet it didn’t. I wondered how much Joanne’s roommate knew about her. It all depended on whether Cassandra Lydell was a real witch. I doubted it. Two things gave her away. Wicca is a religion and not one where the followers tend to curse people. They have their threefold laws and stuff. Wicca had nothing to do with actual witches. The real things tended to not run around talking about the goddess, but I was grateful Liv was with me. She could tell me in a minute flat if I was dealing with the real thing or not.

  I thanked Sharon, who showed me to the elevators. We made our way to the third floor. Room 315 was halfway down the hall, and I knocked on it shortly as I read the many notes on the corkboard secured to the door. Though it stated plainly that this was Joanne and Cassie’s room almost all the notes were for Jo. The notes started out asking her to call so and so or saying someone had dropped by, but the newer notes begged her to get in touch. They spoke of deep worry. This wasn’t a girl who bugged out on her friends.

  “Wannabe. I’m getting nada and if she was even a minor witch I should feel something.” There was no judgment in Liv’s pronouncement, merely truth.

  The door opened and I was faced with a walking, talking Hot Topic mannequin. Cassie Lydell had the Goth thing down. She wore black on black on…surprisingly enough, more black. Her combat boots were black, as were the artfully torn fishnets that covered her legs. Her miniskirt was a more faded black which spoke of much use, but the T-shirt looked new. It was some band’s tour shirt, and apparently the band really liked demons and poorly drawn Hell symbols.