“Charlie?”
I shot up to a seated position on the couch. Dare was hanging back in the doorway to my bedroom. The moonlight from the window filtered in and cast a pale glow on his sharply featured face. The Phantom, I thought, only without the mask.
“Hey, Dare. Can’t sleep?” I patted the couch next to me, and he shuffled over. His eyes were swollen from crying, which he must have done in the bedroom. I didn’t turn on the light and expose him. I could see his pain well enough.
“I heard your mom come in.” He slouched forward with his elbows on his knees and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “She thinks I did it, doesn’t she?”
Dare must have overheard our conversation. I kicked myself for not making sure my bedroom door was closed and that he was asleep.
“It’s her job to suspect everyone, Dare. She doesn’t know you like I do.”
“Do you know me, Charlie?” His eyes searched mine, and I saw something flicker there, like a match burning in a sooty pan. Then his eyes softened and he glanced away miserably. “Do any of us really know anyone?”
I sensed he was asking a much larger question, one I couldn’t answer. I thought of my father and all the secrets he’d kept from us, his own family. His depression and thoughts of suicide. His loneliness and feelings of despair. He hid all of that from us. You can never know what’s in the heart and mind of another person. You can’t know all the things they don’t tell you.
“No, we don’t.”
His sigh had a note of sadness in it. “I agree with your mom that you shouldn’t see me or be involved with this, but I need you, Charlie.” That yearning in his voice, it was almost musical the way it struck me on a very basic level. “I know it’s selfish of me to ask you this, but…. Mason was hiding things from me, from all of us, and my friends—” He glanced away, looking guilty. “I can’t trust them to be honest with me. We all know each other too well… and not well enough.” His brooding eyes met mine again. “You weren’t fooled by us, Charlie.”
“What do you mean, Dare?” He was speaking in riddles again, and I was having trouble keeping up.
“You saw Mason as he is when you busted him for cheating. You didn’t let his charm or his money or his popularity at our school influence you. You saw something wrong going on, and you did something about it. That took a lot of guts.”
In all the time since it had happened, no one—not even my mother—had seen it like that. No one ever took my side. Like when your favorite celebrity is exposed as a criminal and everyone jumps in to deny it, the student body didn’t want to face the fact that Mason Chalmers lied and cheated, knowingly. Everyone wanted to maintain that illusion of the golden boy, and when I exposed him, I’d ruined that fantasy for everyone.
People really can’t handle the truth.
“I need your help, Charlie. I need you to find whoever killed Mason, because I think it was someone close to us. And I can’t be objective anymore.”
“My mom is the best homicide detective on the force,” I told him. And what if the murderer turned out to be one of his closest friends? Could Dare really handle it?
“But she doesn’t know Mason. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be in high school—all the pressure and expectations. And she doesn’t have access the way you do.”
In crime solving you never go with your instincts, especially if the evidence doesn’t support it. I’d be doing Mason a disservice if I eliminated Dare as a suspect.
“I can’t rule you out, Dare. Not yet, at least.”
He nodded. “Then investigate me too. You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not supposed to. I just want to know who did that to my brother.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch. His grief had utterly depleted him. Within seconds tears were spilling out the corners of his eyes and making trails past his temples.
I knew all the reasons why this was a bad idea, but Dare needed me, and so did Mason. I had a unique skill set, and it felt wrong not to at least ask a few questions. I glanced toward my mom’s bedroom. Even though she couldn’t hear us, I kept my voice low. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
He sniffed and wiped his eyes, then grabbed for my hand and shook it, sealing my commitment.
“Thanks, Charlie.” He sat up and glanced around as if expecting my mother to pop in and find us scheming, or maybe that was just my guilty conscience. “I should go.” He stood and headed for the door.
“Let me drive you home. Whoever killed Mason is still out there.”
“Maybe they’ll come for me next,” he said, voicing my exact fear.
“Doesn’t that scare you?”
He traced one elegant finger along the doorframe and said sinisterly, “I wish they would.”
He left, shutting the door softly behind him. I watched his slanted walk through the window until he reached the end of our street. The deadbolt made a dull click as I engaged it.
Their relationship had always fascinated me, and even with my mother’s warning and the full realization that Dare could be a murderer, I couldn’t help but dissect everything I knew about the Chalmerses. I placed those threads into neat little boxes inside my mind, to be unraveled and examined later, along with the most critical questions: Who wanted Mason Chalmers dead, enough to murder him so viciously?
And why?
Chapter 7
AROUND HERE rumors spread faster than gonorrhea, both unfortunate side effects of living in a small town. The gossip mill could be hell on your love life, but it was great for sussing out the truth. Mom wanted me to stay home from school on Tuesday—take a day off to recover—but I wanted to see what stories were circulating in the halls of Eastview High. Some of it was sure to be garbage, but sometimes rumors had truthful origins. If the killer was someone we knew, then my first order of business was finding out who at Eastview wanted Mason dead.
Unfortunately, my three main sources of information were absent. Dare, Joey and Daniela all stayed home. The school’s online Story was flooded with pictures and videos of Mason, most of which also had Dare in them. Students clustered in the hallways, crying on each other’s shoulders, or slammed things with their fists. The teachers were out of sorts as well, consoling each other between classes and fighting to keep their composure while giving lessons. A few dirty looks were cast my way by those who still held a grudge from last year. Principal Thornton made an announcement in homeroom that anyone who wanted could come to the media center during lunch and talk to a guidance counselor. They even brought in therapy dogs, which was a nice thing to do. Of course I was sad, but I had a job to do, and focusing on that allowed me to keep my personal feelings in check.
I kept my ears open during classes but didn’t pick up on anything I didn’t already know. My peers knew Mason was dead and that his truck had been found in Newnans Lake under suspicious circumstances, but they didn’t know the particulars of the crime, which meant the media didn’t know either. That was a good thing for now; it made GPD’s job a little easier.
I wanted to see if there were crimes similar to what happened to Mason that had been committed elsewhere, something to link his murder to the pattern of a serial killer. It wouldn’t be the first time a killer had made Gainesville his hunting grounds. My mom was my age when Danny Rolling went on his killing spree and murdered five students not even two miles from our high school. Strangely enough, that was what made my mom want to go into homicide investigations, to bring killers like him to justice.
I also knew that statistically there were between twenty-five and fifty active serial killers in the United States at any given time, which, given the transient nature of our community and the plethora of young and somewhat naïve students at the university, meant Mason’s death could be part of a very disturbing pattern.
During lunch I went to the media center and did a little searching online for decapitation cases where the murderer was still at large. I couldn’t find anything recent, and most of the crimes were committed against people within the house
hold, not strangers.
What I wouldn’t give to have access to the FBI’s database.
Then I remembered something I’d forgotten before. I erased my browser history from the school’s computer and called my mom.
“Something I remembered from Saturday,” I said into the phone after a brief greeting. “There was a lean to Mason’s truck.”
“Why aren’t you in class?” she asked me.
“Mom, it’s lunch. I have it the same time every day.”
Her sigh went on for so long that I had to cut her off. “The truck. Was the axle broken?”
“No. The front passenger-side tire was flat.”
“Had it been tampered with?”
“We’re not discussing this case anymore, Charlie. I love you. Goodbye.”
“Mom,” I said testily, but she’d already hung up on me.
If Mason’s tire had been tampered with, it would have had to happen in the school parking lot. The school had cameras. I had to get my hands on that footage. There was about ten minutes left of lunch, so I headed to the front office and asked to speak to Principal Thornton. I told her administrative assistant I was there on an errand from my mother, Detective Schiffer. I showed him my police ID even though he didn’t ask to see it.
“Dr. Thornton,” I said, ducking my head into her office once I’d gained permission.
“Hello, Charlie,” she said and motioned to the chair across from her desk. Her face was drawn and tired-looking. Despite the ruckus I caused last year, Principal Thornton was still pretty nice to me. I think she was relieved the SAT cheating scandal was contained to Eastview High and never broke in the media.
“Is this about Mason Chalmers?” she asked.
“Yes, it is.” I cleared my throat. I was never very good at the lying part. “My mom told me you had something for her?”
Her face scrunched up a little. “I don’t believe so.”
“Surveillance of the parking lot?” My pits were sweating like crazy, and I worried she could smell my lies from across the room.
“Oh yes.” She nodded and glanced around as though looking for something. I couldn’t believe it was so easy. Then she seemed to remember herself. “Wait. I turned that over already to GPD. Does she need another copy?”
“She must. She just asked me to come by and pick it up.”
“Well, let me give her a quick call.” Principal Thornton pulled out her cell phone. Apparently she had my mother stored in her contacts. Cripes.
“You know what? Never mind. I’m sure if she needs a second copy, she can just get it from the department.” I stood quickly, more afraid of my mom finding out I was using her good name to get confidential evidence than I was of Principal Thornton discovering me.
I backed out of her office, kicking myself for my amateur hour. I’d never make it as an undercover agent.
Still, I had to figure out a way to get access to that footage.
I puzzled over it for the rest of the afternoon. Even though I could probably do it, I didn’t want to hack into my mom’s computer—that seemed like the ultimate betrayal, not to mention it was also a felony. I’d have to convince her somehow to show it to me.
Maybe GPD and my mom were already following promising leads and would have the killer in custody before nightfall. Then we could all rest a bit easier. I believed in my mom’s ability—I’d seen her nail the bad guy (or gal) many times before. But in the meantime I had a few other people I wanted to question.
Tameka was my first stop. She had cheerleading practice after school in the multipurpose room, which was near the wrestling room. I caught her just before it was about to begin and asked for an update.
“We went over to Daniela’s house last night after we got the news,” she said.
“Who’s we?”
“The cheerleading squad.”
That’s right, they traveled in a pack. “That was fast. How’d you hear about it?”
“Dare told Joey. Joey told Daniela. Daniela told the squad.”
I reviewed her progression. “Dare didn’t tell Joey.” I was with Dare the entire time, and he didn’t pick up his phone once.
“Well, that’s what Daniela said. Anyway.” She waited until she had my full attention. “She was a wreck. One of the girls baked cupcakes, and we brought them over. It looked like she hadn’t left her room in days. Her nails were a mess. There were clothes everywhere, pictures of Mason, sad music playing. It was….” Tameka seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “It was a little disturbing.”
I got a glimpse of Tameka’s hands. Her green-and-white manicure had held up pretty well. “You said her nails were a mess?”
“Yeah. She’d pulled off all her acrylics. And you know manicures aren’t cheap.”
Perhaps it was Daniela’s way of coping with Mason’s disappearance, or maybe it was because she was hiding evidence—fake nails were likely to break and crack when performing activities such as decapitating your boyfriend and digging a hole for his dead body. Fingernails were also great reservoirs for skin cells and traces of blood—DNA evidence.
“Is she normally a nail-biter?”
Tameka shrugged. “I don’t know. You want me to ask her?”
“No.” I’d find out for myself. “Did she say anything about Mason or that night?”
“She said he was stupid and that he should have known better. She seemed really pissed at him. Sad too. She said she should have never let him go. Most of the time, she just cried, and we took turns hugging her.”
“Did she know where he was going Friday night?”
“She didn’t say. I heard his truck was found in the lake….” Tameka looked at me for confirmation. That much had already been reported on.
“Yeah, it was.”
“He was murdered, wasn’t he?”
I shrugged. “It’s an ongoing investigation.” That was as close to an affirmative as I could give.
She shivered. “It’s so strange. I’ve never known someone my age who died before. Murdered.” She whispered the last word like she was afraid to say it out loud.
“No, me neither.”
“Who could have done that?”
“I don’t know.”
“It just doesn’t seem real.”
“It doesn’t.”
I kept expecting to see the two of them strolling down the hallway, Mischief and Mayhem. Dare, with his arm thrown casually over Mason’s shoulder, leaned in to tell him a bit of gossip or tease him about something inappropriate. Mason shoving him off while laughing good-naturedly. Theirs was a relationship that transcended family ties, as if their brotherhood belonged to the entire student body. If I hadn’t seen what was left of Mason myself, I wouldn’t believe it either. I thought back to Daniela and Mason’s argument on Friday afternoon.
“You said you saw Daniela and Mason arguing on Friday. Could you show me where?”
Tameka nodded. “This way.”
I followed her out of the multipurpose room and across the atrium to the door that led to the wrestling room. Daniela must have called Mason out of practice to confront him. On the other side of the door, I heard grunting and the shriek of Coach Gundry’s whistle. It was possible that someone from inside the wrestling room might have overheard them.
“Thanks for your help on this, Tameka.” Her practice was starting, and I didn’t want to make her late.
“No problem, Dick. I’ll talk to some of the other girls on the squad and keep you posted.”
She walked away, shaking her shoulders as though a ghost had laid its cold fingers on her. If I wanted to talk to Coach Gundry and some of the other players, I’d have to wait until practice was over.
I was just settling in to do some more searching on my phone when I got a call from Dare.
“Charlie.” He sounded out of breath. “Charlie, I found something.”
“Where are you?” I hoped he wasn’t back at the scene of the crime. That would look very bad for him.
“I’m in Maso
n’s room. I found a baggie of pills. I think they’re his.”
Mason, an all-state athlete, using drugs?
“What do they look like?” I asked.
“White. Round.”
“Are there any numbers or letters on them?”
“No. It looks like they’ve been… rubbed off or something.”
Who would go through the trouble of sanding away the pills’ identifiers? Someone afraid of getting caught.
“Send me a picture.”
“Okay, hold on a minute.”
I waited while Dare snapped a picture and texted it to me. He was right—they looked as nondescript as he’d said.
“You should give them to your parents so they can have the police compare them to the toxicology report.”
“How long will that take?” Dare said. “The report, I mean.”
“It might take a while.” And without the body, the pathologists were limited to blood and hair samples. They might not be able to detect whatever drug Mason was taking.
“I thought so.”
The way he said it made me worry…. Dare was known to be a little reckless and a lot impulsive. “You didn’t take any of it, did you?”
There was a long pause.
“Dare?” I said in a voice of quiet authority, one my mom used on suspects, and me on occasion.
“Just one. Half, really. I wanted to know what it was. I thought it might be Xanax, but I’m pretty sure it’s not.”
I ran my hand through my hair, and it got stuck in my curls. I’d forgotten to comb it out this morning. “Dare, you don’t know what the hell that is. It could be straight-up fentanyl or something.”
“What’s that?”
I growled into the phone. “Stay on the phone with me. I’m coming over.”
“It doesn’t feel like anything. Maybe I didn’t take enough.”
I was already jogging to my car. Talking to the wrestling team would have to wait. “Dare, if you take any more of it, I’m calling 911 and your parents.”
“All right, I won’t. But I don’t need you to stay on the phone with me. I feel fine.”
“Do it for me, then. I want to make sure you don’t go into cardiac arrest or stop breathing.”
In the Pines Page 7