Game Over (Whithall University Book 2)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  “It’s going to take time, but I promise we’ll help her,” Cole says.

  “I know. I’m so grateful for you all, too. And for letting us stay here. You’ll never understand how much it means to us. The generosity and friendship you’ve shown us is remarkable and humbling.”

  “It’s fine. It’s one room that wouldn’t get used. I can’t really sleep well without Cole,” Willow admits softly.

  Becca’s face relaxes. “It’s still kind of you to let us stay here. My mum is trying to get the flat four floors down. The woman’s son graduated last year and they’ve been renting it out ever since, but they’re fed up of dealing with noise complaints and paying for the damages.”

  That gets my attention. “Four floors down?”

  CJ starts laughing at me, but I ignore him, still staring at Becca who looks taken aback by my outburst.

  “Um, yeah. The woman hasn’t made it official or anything yet. My mum was asking the building manager about places and he mentioned it, but she’s unsure if she can afford it. She was hoping to talk the lady into renting it to her.”

  My eyes nearly bug out. “Oh, my God. Move in here and pay rent, if that’s what you want to do. I want that flat. I want it now. Oh, my God. I’m going to call my dad.”

  I try to get off CJ’s lap, but he pulls me back down, laughing. “Cupcake.”

  “Don’t ‘Cupcake’ me,” I snap.

  Becca seems puzzled when she says, “Um, hate to state the obvious, but you live here.”

  “On the seventh floor,” I tell her, nodding. “That flat is on the third floor.”

  “What about us?” Willow says, pouting. “We won’t be living across from each other anymore.”

  I turn to my best friend, torn for just a second. “But it’s only three flights, Willow. I’d give up sweets if it meant not walking up those death traps. Ever since we moved here I’ve been experiencing shortness of breath, rapid heartbeat, and aches and pains.”

  Willow giggles. “You would really give up sweets?”

  I tilt my head, pouting. “No! But it’s not really the issue. The issue is I won’t have to walk up those goddamn stairs.”

  “Just think of it as your daily exercise,” Becca adds, shrugging.

  I gasp, swinging my head in her direction. “How could you?”

  She looks confused. “Sorry?”

  “You should be.”

  Willow, still giggling, pauses to explain. “Allie hates anything to do with exercise.”

  “Not all exercise,” I defend. “I don’t mind walking, as long as it’s not up hills or too strenuous.”

  Willow gives me a dry look before looking at Becca. “She doesn’t like any exercise.”

  Becca’s shocked eyes come to me. “But you’re so skinny.”

  “And I’d be healthy if I didn’t have to walk up the stairs every time the lift breaks down.”

  CJ chuckles against my neck. “I’ll carry you, Cupcake.”

  I smile at his sweetness. “You love me,” I sing.

  He chuckles. “I do.”

  “Ya know, come to think of it, did you even do one PE lesson?”

  I turn to Willow, smiling. “No. I had a doctor’s note. I sweat profusely and had to have special deodorant that burnt my sweat glands. And I had anxiety over sweating. It’s not like I sweat like a normal person; I look like I’ve been swimming, so the school understood my anxiety over it.”

  CJ, looking a little pale, looks up at me. “Um, what about when we have sex? Because I can tell you now, it’s going to be fucking strenuous. You won’t walk for weeks.”

  My breathing picks up, a tingle shooting between my legs. I ignore the others laughing and lean in to whisper in his ear. “Oh, trust me, sex will not be included in the same category as exercise because I fully intend to enjoy it.”

  His eyes spark, and without warning, he lifts me in the air and over his shoulder.

  “Nice seeing you guys, but we’re wiped. We’re going to take a little nap.”

  The laughter that follows has me blushing, but I can’t find the thought to care. Some more time alone with CJ is worth everyone knowing we’re about to do something naughty.

  Even if it isn’t sex.

  At least, not today.

  For that, I plan for it to be just us two with no interruptions or chances of one of our roommates walking in.

  Or when the moment takes us there.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Since finding out about the second murder a few days ago, I’ve not been able to get Linda Cooper out of my mind.

  What she must have gone through is something I can’t bear to think about yet can’t help but do it. The press have, thankfully, left her parents alone, but it hasn’t stopped them from running the story and interviewing her friends.

  How someone could do this to another human being is beyond me. Nobody deserves to die like that. He or she has made an innocent family suffer for their sick enjoyment, and knowing we’re walking around with that monster out there doesn’t bear thinking about. He could be someone we’ve walked past, someone we go to class with or are friends with. It scares the crap out of me.

  I promised CJ and the others that I would take a step back from it all, but I can’t. It’s a dangerous situation to be in, I know. No one knows what this person is capable of, what he would do if he ever found out I was looking into the murders.

  All I’ve been able to find out is he’s targeting girls, cuts their hair, and rests them peacefully after he kills them. I can’t determine a pattern in the women other than the colour of their hair. Linda didn’t go to Whithall University; she was still attending a local college closer to her home, and from my research online, she has no ties to Christie.

  I texted Jordan last night to meet up with me at the library, since no one we knew was working there today. Alex has classes all day, so he won’t be there to see what we’re up to. I have to get to my Historical English class right after, so I can’t be long with her.

  When I walk in, she’s already sitting down at our table. I sit next to her and grab the file I made from my bag. “Hey, I’m glad you could meet me.” When I open it, I pull out the newspaper clippings I found last night and hand one to her. “A murder similar to Christie’s and Linda’s happened not far from here fifteen years ago. A wife found her husband cheating and decided to get revenge.”

  She takes the paper from me, her eyebrows drawn together. I wait a few minutes for her to read over the first one before handing her another.

  “Oh, my God,” she murmurs, her eyes flicking over the sentences quickly.

  “I know. The details are limited due to the nature of the murder, but from what this one reporter wrote, the wife had killed the mistress in front of her husband. She shaved off her hair so he wouldn’t be attracted to her anymore. In an interview they did with her, when she was admitted, she explained how her husband had a ton of pictures of his mistress hidden in a shoebox and on his phone. In the photos, he would always be touching her hair, sniffing it, or running his fingers through it.”

  “This is insane,” Jordan tells me, looking up from the article. “How did I not find this?”

  I shrug, not sure either, as it was on the second page when I searched. I did a basic Google search and found the newspaper articles online. “I’m not sure. It’s not really much to go on, but for some reason, I feel like these are related.”

  “How? It says in this article she killed herself in a psychiatric prison four months later.”

  I sag into my chair. This is where I come to a dead end. “I know. That’s why I called you here to meet me. We need to see if the couple had any other members of family, or maybe children. The reports don’t say anything, but I only found those three that covered the murder after she was convicted. I can’t find anything about before, or where or when the bodies were found.”

  She quickly scans over them again. “I’ll look into it, but this was fifteen years ago, Allie. We might not find anything. I do agree
it’s too much of a coincidence not to be related. And she was diagnosed with schizophrenia. If she had a child or a sibling with the same disorder, they could be repeating the pattern. Maybe Christie betrayed whoever the killer is, and it’s somehow set something off inside him, which made him kill another girl?”

  “That’s what I was thinking. I looked it up and it does say schizophrenia has a component to be hereditary. I think we should ask some more questions to Christie’s friends, see if she had any ex-boyfriends that ended on a bad term.”

  “I’m actually meeting with her close friend later. I’ve got to tutor her for an exam she has coming up. I’ll see if I can fit it into the conversation.”

  “That would be amazing.”

  “I still can’t believe another body has been found,” she tells me, rubbing her hands across her face.

  I shudder. “I know. My phone has been ringing off the hook. My dad is worried about us being here. He doesn’t think it’s safe so keeps begging us to take a term off.”

  “What are you going to do? Honestly, with this happening, it sounds like a good idea. We don’t know who he will target next, or if he will.”

  “As much as it scares me that there’s a killer wandering the streets, I can’t. I already waited a few years to attend university with Willow. We had the grades to attend once we finished our year at college, but we wanted to work so we could pay for uni ourselves before attending. I did it more for Willow, as her mum couldn’t afford the fees by herself.”

  “She did mention you waited to attend college so you could both come together.”

  “If it does get any worse, and I feel unsafe, I’ll take a week or two off. But if everyone went home because of this killer, we’d lose our grades.”

  “I graduate this year and I’d rather keep it that way, so I can see where you’re coming from.”

  I smile, happy for her. “Any ideas on what you will do after?”

  A frustrated look appears over her expression. “Nope. My parents want me to work for my uncle at the local news station, but it’s not what I want to do. I love my blog. I love reporting that way and I’ll probably keep doing it. I love it. I’ve applied for a few jobs that are looking for columnists. I’m just waiting to hear back. I’ve also looked into teaching.”

  “Teaching?” I ask, surprised. She’s never mentioned it before now.

  “Yeah.” She blushes, looking up through her eyelashes. “It’s been on my mind for over a year, since I started tutoring. I really enjoy doing it. I know I’ll miss it which is why I decided on teaching.”

  I smile, squeezing her hand, before pulling back. “Then do it. You can teach with your degree, and I think you’ll be good at it.”

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” I tell her, then look at the time. “Shit, I’d better getting going. I was late to Mr. Flint’s class a few weeks ago and it didn’t end well. He kinda creeped me out.”

  Jordan grabs my arm, stopping me from getting my things. I look up, then groan when I realise what I just revealed.

  “What do you mean he creeped you out?”

  “It’s nothing. He just doesn’t understand personal space is all. I’m sure it’s just me. I’ve always hated people being close to me, it’s why I’m not a crowd person.”

  “You need to report him,” she says, a look in her eyes, like she knows something.

  “What? Why? I was probably overreacting.”

  She shakes her head, looking deep in thought. “No. Can you remember a while ago when I had to show a new student around for her night classes?”

  I think back and nod, because I do remember. She came to meet us after to take Rosie out, which didn’t end up going as planned. “Why?”

  “Well, the girl, Emma, is really skittish. She jumps at every noise and any time I’ve asked to meet up in the day, she said she’s busy. I feel there’s more to her story. I don’t think she liked being around people, which I was why I think she’s taking night classes. I’ve only ever met her twice, so I’m not sure what her story is. Anyway, when I checked in with her a week ago to see how she was settling in, I asked her about Mr. Flint’s class. She froze on me. She went white as a sheet and started visibly shaking. She didn’t answer me and avoided it entirely by bringing something else up, so I didn’t mention again. I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

  “He is a little touchy feely. If she doesn’t like large crowds then she probably doesn’t like him being close. I plan to not draw any more attention to myself.”

  She seems to think that over. “It could be. Just be careful. Something doesn’t feel right with him. I’ve not had a class with him, but even when I introduced her to him, he seemed kind of sleazy, which is weird for an impeccably dressed English teacher. I’m actually meeting up with her again soon.”

  “That’s kind of you. Does she have anyone she can talk to around here?”

  “She lives with her cousin and his boyfriend. They’re actually pretty cool. I can’t see anyone messing with her with those two around. One is big as hell and the other looks intimidating with all his tattoos. She also has a friend called Banner, who I think she has a crush on. She’s not really open.”

  I smile at that. “Ah, maybe you should see if they’ll meet up with you and Rosie. Rosie and Emma seem to be in the same position with not liking large crowds. They could get along and become friends. Rosie needs that right now.”

  Her eyes light up. “That’s a great idea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I’ll see if they’re up for it. Right, you’d better go before you’re late.”

  I laugh, grabbing the file and newspaper clippings, and start stuffing them into my bag. “I’ll see you later. Are you meeting us at the café for lunch?”

  “If I can make it, yeah. I have to meet up with another student beforehand, and he’s a little slow.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you later—if you can.”

  I grab my bag, waving goodbye, before leaving the library. The air outside is chilly, which means we’re in for another coat of snow.

  Great.

  *** *** ***

  Class is coming to an end, and I’m watching the clock. I’ve been counting down the minutes since I arrived.

  Jordan’s warning about Mr. Flint keeps surfacing to the front of my mind, especially when he leans over me to look at my work. Instead of standing to the side, he looms behind me, peering over my shoulder with his hands resting on the desk on either side of me. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my cheek, the warmth of his chest on my back.

  “That’s really good, Allie. If you’d like, we can go over your coursework later, make sure you’re on schedule?”

  Palms sweaty, and a little shaky, I answer, my voice full of nerves and anxiety. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be fine, Mr. Flint.”

  “Please, call me Geoff,” he tells me, squeezing my shoulder.

  The lesson comes to an end and I relax as he steps back. I quickly grab my books, bag, coat, and scarf, not bothering to put anything away before standing. “See you next class, Mr. Flint.”

  I hear an unpleasant sound from behind me, and it has me hurrying toward the exit. I leave the room, my breaths coming in short pants.

  The guy creeps me out. He’s getting bolder and bolder with each lesson. There’s nothing I can do, apart from report him. If he exhibits the same behaviour during our next lesson together, I’ll have to say something to someone.

  I step outside into the freezing cold and walk over to the vacant bench. I rest my bag on it and start putting my books away. After, I waste no time in pulling my coat on and wrapping my scarf around my neck. Once I have everything on, my bag back over my shoulder, I slide my hands into my gloves.

  God, it’s cold.

  I cannot wait for summer. After exercise, being cold is the second most thing I hate. I’m one of those awkward people who are never happy. I moan if it’s too cold, b
ut then moan if it’s too hot. Why can there never be an in between? All year round.

  Hearing my name being shouted grabs my attention. I turn around and face the person calling me. It takes me a few seconds to register who it is. When it comes to me, I smile. “Hey, Ian, how are you doing? You sorted your English Lit assignment?”

  “It’s going good. Me and Nathan,” he starts, pointing to a boy next to him. He’s lanky and a little dorky-looking but seems smart and sophisticated. It’s the clothes and posture, I think, that makes him seem that way. “We’re working on it together now. You might see us in the library a lot.”

  “That’s great. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  He shrugs, looking to his friend, who seems overly quiet. “We were wondering if you wanted to hang out.”

  Flattered and a little embarrassed, I give him a small smile. “I’m so sorry; I can’t. I’m actually on my way to meet my boyfriend but thank you for the offer.”

  His smile gets wider. “That’s fine. Maybe next time you could both meet us.”

  “Yeah, maybe. I’ve got to go, but it was nice seeing you again.”

  “You too,” he says, before walking off with his friend.

  I watch them for a moment longer before heading toward the café I planned to meet CJ and the rest of them at.

  It takes me ten minutes to get there, and when I do, everyone is already seated. They’ve pulled four tables together so we can all sit as one large group.

  “There’s my cupcake,” CJ booms, getting up from his chair and walking over to me. He hands me a bag and I frown, puzzled as to why he’s buying me more gifts. “I got you something.”

  “You got me something? But it’s already been my birthday.”

  He chuckles, bringing me in for a kiss before pulling away. “Open it.”

  I smile, opening the bag to find a rectangular gift box. I pull it out, handing him the bag so I can open it. I do, gasping. I pull my glove off using my teeth, so I can touch the silver beauty.

  A silver linked charmed bracelet glitters before me. On it, rests a book charm, a bow tie, and a pair of Converse. It’s beautiful, meaningful.