Game Over (Whithall University Book 2)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  What is he going on about?

  “What are you talking about?” Cole asks, pulling Willow against his front.

  The worker grins big, holding a sheet of paper, something laminated, and a little trophy. “You beat the killing score. You shot forty-seven zombies. No one has gotten higher than a six since we opened.”

  CJ grins, taking the sheets handed to him. I look over, smiling when I see the scoreboard, the number of his vest at the top.

  “Fucking ace. This is so cool,” he says, his chest puffing out. I giggle at his childlike expression. He really has enjoyed himself.

  “Yeah, we need ya name, if you don’t mind—to put it on the scoreboard out front. It gives people something to work for, but I gotta tell ya, not even we’ve been able to kill that many, and we work here.”

  “There are forty-seven zombies working for you?” Willow asks, her face a shade of green.

  He looks to her, shaking his head. “No, there’s actually only twelve of us. We just send them back in to make it look like there’s loads.”

  “What about the hands coming from the holes in the wall?” I ask, curious because there seemed like more.

  “Machines. There’s a few of them. If they are in distance range of the sensor button then they can buzz you out. We also have dummies we leave hanging next to a few other workers to make it look like there’s a bunch of them.”

  “Well, it will suck if you guys ever caught the flu,” CJ chuckles, still looking at his certificate with pride.

  “Anyway, give your name to Lou at the front desk, man. Hope you guys had fun, but I need to get the stuff ready for the next group.”

  We nod and watch him go before walking back to the changing room to collect our things. We hang up our helmets and suits, before heading out.

  CJ gives his name to Lou, and even adds the guys who were waiting at the front desk to congratulate him, on Facebook.

  “See ya later,” he shouts over his shoulder as he meets us outside. He looks at us, a wide grin spreading across his handsome face. “What do you want to do next?”

  “Can we go get something to eat? Maybe we could sit on the beach for a bit before we head back?” Willow asks.

  “And get sand in my food? No,” CJ mutters. “Let’s go somewhere to eat. We can walk on the beach later.”

  She nods, not arguing with him, since it’s impossible to do. You’ll never win; he takes his food seriously.

  Out of nowhere, he picks me up and swings me around, kissing me hard. “Cupcake, you are the best girlfriend ever. Today was fucking epic.”

  I smile down at him, running my fingers down his cheeks and leaning in closer. “I’m glad you had fun.”

  “Oh, it’s gonna be even better when we get home and I get you naked. Killing things has made me horny.”

  “We can hear you,” Cole states dryly, not sounding amused at all.

  “Shouldn’t eavesdrop then, you big perv,” CJ mutters over my shoulder, before he glances back at me, his expression softening to the one I love most; the one where he looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time and can’t believe his eyes, like I’m perfect. “I love you.”

  I press my forehead against his, my fingers running through his hair. “I love you more.”

  “Do you two want to be alone, or can we go eat?” Cole asks, making me giggle against CJ’s mouth.

  CJ pulls back to answer, but never takes his eyes from mine. “I’d love nothing more than to be alone with my cupcake.”

  So sweet.

  “But?” Cole adds, knowing his best friend all too well.

  “We can do that after we eat.”

  I start laughing, sliding down his body before we walk back to the car.

  Today had been a good day—the best day. If only every day could be like this. If only we didn’t have to go back to Whithall, where life was a little fucked up. At least here we didn’t have to worry about a serial killer.

  Alas, life goes on, and carrying on as normal is the only thing we can do.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The university is buzzing with fear over the death of Marie Fleet. Her body was found a few days ago, not far from the English building at the university.

  Knowing she was with the killer for twenty-four days is something I can’t even think about. What that poor girl must have gone through.

  Since finding out about it, Rosie has, somehow, come out of her shell. Whether that’s because someone else needed her, I don’t know. I just know she’s been there for her friend as she mourns the loss of her sister. She’s left the flat more in the past few days than she has the entire time she’s lived here.

  Life has been crazy since.

  I knew coming to Whithall would have its challenges; I just didn’t realise how hard some of the coursework would be. My English Lit assignment is starting to stress me out. I’ve found other topics to write about, but I’m not feeling it. None of the subjects I decided on as alternatives are giving me any inspiration. My mind keeps going back to the murders, mostly Christie’s.

  Although, her murder does show a few discrepancies. First, she’s the only victim who was murdered that had blonde hair. All the others have mousy brown hair, or as close to that colour as you can get. She was murdered in her room and left, the others have been taken somewhere, killed there, then dumped near the university. None of it adds up.

  Is it a copycat or the same person?

  Nothing makes sense anymore.

  I promised the others I would leave it be, but I can’t. At the moment, however, I’m at a dead end, so they’re getting their wishes.

  I throw my paperwork onto the floor, which has CJ looking up from where he’s lounging on the sofa.

  It’s late. We’ve spent the night eating junk food and watching movies. When CJ put one of his army movies on, I decided to get my coursework out.

  “What’s up, Cupcake?” He sits up, twisting his neck side to side.

  “I’m just finding this harder than I thought I would,” I admit.

  He looks adorably puzzled. “Watching people shoot at each other?”

  I roll my eyes. “No. My English Lit assignment. Nothing is adding up. I’ve tried to write about another real-life topic, but my mind wanders back to Christie.”

  “Why Christie?” he asks, not arguing with me about still working on it.

  I sit up straighter and turn to face him head on. “Okay, so I looked for ties between the girls who have been murdered. There are none. But that’s when I noticed they all looked similar, except Christie. She had blonde hair. Do you think that’s weird?”

  He thinks that over before shrugging. “It does sound weird, but it could just be a coincidence.”

  I nod. “I thought that too. But when me and Jordan were talking about it, we came up with a theory that Christie’s death was premeditated. I know all of them are premeditated because it does seem like he selects his victims, but what if he killed Christie because of something she did? What if, after he killed her, it set something off inside him and he started killing other girls, girls who remind him of someone.”

  He frowns, his forehead crinkling. He massages his temples. “If that’s true, what you’re describing is some mental disorder. That could actually help the police, Allie.”

  I shake my head, frowning. “We don’t have proof, CJ. Why would they listen to us? There’s other stuff we’ve found that could provide more proof of our theory, but we’re still looking into it.”

  “I think we should go to the police about this.”

  “Then they’ll ask why we got involved.”

  He frowns further, ready to reply, when his phone rings from the floor. He picks it up, glancing at the screen. “It’s Mum,” he mutters, surprised. “Hey, Mum. What’s wrong? Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  He ends the call before shooting up off the sofa. Panic bubbles up inside me at his erratic behaviour. His hands are shaking as he grabs his jeans from the floor.

  “Is you
r mum okay?”

  His face is pale when he glances up from buttoning his jeans. “I don’t know. Something’s wrong. She’s hysterical and crying. She said she needs me.”

  “I’ll come,” I tell him, getting off the sofa.

  “No, it’s fine. It’s late and you have classes tomorrow.”

  I give him a dry look. “So do you. And it’s your mum; I have to go.”

  He throws a hoodie over his head and I get up, moving to the door where my hoodie is hanging. It’s actually CJ’s, but as we we’re having a lazy night in, I decided to wear leggings and a T-shirt. It swamps me, falling to my knees. When I’m done, I grab my bag and phone, and take his hand.

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I tell him, giving his hand a squeeze.

  He looks haunted. “She sounded pretty messed up. I’ve not heard her cry like that since my great-grandparents died.”

  Seeing him like this is breaking my heart. He looks distraught and torn up. “Let’s go see what she needs. Whatever it is, she has us.”

  He squeezes my hand and leads us out of the flat. “Thank you for your support and coming with me.”

  *** *** ***

  We pull up to his mum’s house in CJ’s car. All the lights are blaring inside the house. It’s a big house, not all of those are needed to be on. She also doesn’t seem the type to waste electricity.

  We’ve barely gotten out of the car when the front door opens and his mum comes running out. The sight of her stops me in my tracks.

  Something bad has happened.

  Something terrible.

  Her face is streaked with tears, mascara running down her cheeks, and from the swelling of her eyes, she looks like she’s been crying for days, not in the time since she called CJ for help.

  “Mum,” CJ calls hoarsely, running up to her. He pulls her into his arms and she collapses against his chest, holding him close, wailing.

  I don’t even know what to do. I feel like an outsider standing here, not knowing what to do or if I should even interrupt their moment.

  CJ looks over his shoulder at me, motioning for me to follow him into the house. I nod and pop back to the car, grabbing the keys he forgot to take out of the ignition.

  Once the car is shut and locked, I make my way into the house, following the sound of Milly crying in the living area.

  CJ holds her close, rubbing his hand down her back. “Please, Mum. What’s happened? You’re scaring me.”

  She sniffles, looking up at her son. “I’m sorry, CJ. I thought this was all behind me.”

  When she doesn’t continue, he rubs her back. I sit on the wooden table opposite them and take her hands in mine. “We’re here. You can talk to us.”

  “She’s right, Mum. Whatever this is, we will get through it. Has something happened to someone in the family?”

  She shakes her head before taking a few deep breaths to compose herself. “The police came today—about the murder of those girls.”

  “What?” CJ and I yell simultaneously.

  “The girl, Kate Morrison… Do you know her?”

  CJ nods, swallowing. “Yes, she’s my friend’s sister. Why?”

  More tears fill her eyes. “They said her murder was done out of anger. It wasn’t premeditated, like the other girls he’s taken. They’re keeping it out of the media until tomorrow, but another girl was taken yesterday. They’re being more aggressive with their investigation. I thought it was over.”

  She’s in shock, so I start rubbing slow circles on the backs of her hands with my thumb, wanting to soothe her.

  “Mum, you aren’t making sense.”

  She shakes herself out of it, looking at her son. “I’m so sorry this is happening, but they want you to go into the police station tomorrow for a DNA test.”

  My heart starts beating wildly.

  “What?” he asks, looking taken aback.

  She rubs her temples, closing her eyes for a few moments, before glancing back at us. “They explained that the killer was sloppy when it came to Kate. She wasn’t washed like the others,” she says, shuddering. “They found some DNA under her fingernails.”

  CJ looks sick. “Mum, what does this have to do with me?”

  She pulls one of her hands free from my grip to cup his jaw, looking him squarely in the eyes, taking another deep breath. “When I was raped twenty-two years ago, they got the DNA of the rapist from me and used it to find him.”

  CJ nods when she pauses. He looks on the verge of losing it. It must be hard for him to hear this. I know it is for me, and I’m not her son.

  “Go on.”

  “When they took the DNA from Kate, it came back with a possible match…” She swallows, looking pained. “It was a one hundred and ten percent familial match with the man who raped me.”

  CJ sits back in his seat, rubbing his hand across his face. I’m too stunned to do or say anything. I hadn’t seen this coming and have no idea what it means—or why they want to question CJ.

  He swallows, looking at his mum with glassy eyes. “What does that all mean? What does it have to do with me?”

  “They’ve confirmed the killer is male, approximately in his early or late twenties. They’ve also established that the match is a close relative, probably a son or nephew of some sort. It’s why they need you to go down the station.”

  He looks broken, and my heart bleeds for him. They can’t possibly think he had anything to do with the murders.

  He looks to me, a few tears falling down his cheeks. “I didn’t do this,” he croaks hoarsely.

  I sit forward, placing my hands on his knees. “No one will think you did. They probably want to confirm yours isn’t a match. It’s procedure. Remember, they don’t know you. They don’t know what a selfless, kind-hearted person you are. Once they do, they will give you the all clear.”

  He looks to his mum, wiping under his eyes. “I didn’t do this. I’m nothing like him, Mum. Does it run in the family? Will I be a monster, just like him?”

  His mum starts crying and sits forward until her knees are touching CJ’s. “Son, you are nothing like him. You’d never hurt a soul. You might share his DNA, but you’ve also got mine, and us Everherts are a lot stronger. You weren’t raised by a pack of wolves; you were raised by me. But CJ, it’s your heart alone that sets you so far off from them. You’d never even think of doing something so heinous like this.”

  His fists clench, and he sits up, breathing heavily. “I’m not going to wait around for the police to arrest me. I’m going to get this sorted tonight. If this gets out, my life is over, Mum.”

  He gets up, and me and his mum follow, reaching for him to stop him. “CJ, stay. You heard your mum; she said you can go in tomorrow.”

  He shakes his head. “No. I’m not letting him ruin my life again.”

  “CJ, please, let’s talk about this.”

  He looks at his mum, sadness filling his eyes. “I’m sorry. I won’t be long.”

  With that, he leaves, and my heart breaks. I wipe at the tears I hadn’t realised were there and glance at Milly.

  “Let’s go get you a cup of tea,” I whisper.

  She nods, still looking shocked. “Yes, that sounds amazing.”

  We make our way into the kitchen and I sit Milly down at the table before making work of getting us a cup of tea. Finding stuff in the large kitchen is nearly impossible, but I manage, and make my way back over to Milly.

  “It will be okay,” I whisper, reaching over the table and rubbing her cold hand.

  She looks up, her eyes red and filled with tears. “Will it? I prayed when CJ was born that I could protect him from how he was conceived. My family ruined that the first chance they got. They made his life hell, and I hated them for it. I’ll never forgive them for what they did and how they did it to my son. He was my life, my world, and they set out to ruin that.” She pauses, taking a sip of her tea. “But in a way, I was thankful he knew. It brought us closer. I wish it could have come from me; I never wanted him to f
ind out from someone else.”

  “Was the person who raped you arrested?” I ask, something CJ never told me.

  She nods. “He was. It took them a few weeks to find him, but in the end, it went to trial and he was convicted. He tried to get out on bail, but he was declined and kept in prison. I was informed of his death on the day he died—that was a while back now.”

  “You don’t have to talk to me about this,” I tell her, feeling my throat tighten.

  She looks up from her cup of tea, giving me a small smile. “It’s been so long I believed I’d never have to talk or think about it again. There are odd occasions where I will divulge my past with some of the girls I see, but I focus more on CJ when I do.” She takes another sip, looking lost in thought. “When I was sixteen, I thought I knew everything. I never thought something like that would ever happen, thought it only happened to other people.”

  She’s talking about when she was raped. CJ told me she was young when it happened. I take a deep breath myself, conflicted over whether I want to hear this or not. But I don’t have the heart to stop her when she clearly needs to get it off her chest.

  “It’s okay,” I assure her, squeezing her hand.

  “My girlfriends wanted to go to a concert that was happening near our home. It was a big event that went on for days and had musicians from all around the world. My parents didn’t want me to go. They didn’t want me to do anything involving fun. I snuck out that night.

  “We were having a really good time, and because everyone was drunk or high off the music, they weren’t paying attention to ID’s, so we got served alcohol or we stole other people’s drinks. We thought we were cool, but really, we were stupid.”

  “No, you weren’t. You just wanted to make memories with your friends. That’s not stupid. You can’t control other people’s actions. Isn’t that what you told Rosie?”

  She chuckles dryly. “We got separated some time during the night. I don’t think we even noticed until our alarms on our phones, telling us to get back, started going off. I left the group of people I was talking to and started looking around for them. I texted them and was waiting for them to reply, but I thought if I looked around, I’d see them,” she says, pausing to rub her eyes. “I didn’t even see him coming. One minute I was walking around one of the large tents they had up, the next, I was dragged behind. I saw him—saw his eyes, his expression, and I died a little inside that night. Then CJ was born. I had doubts throughout my pregnancy, scared I wouldn’t love my baby. But I didn’t need to worry. The second he kicked inside me, I felt something for him, and then the moment I laid eyes on him, I fell so deeply in love I felt like I could fly. I don’t know how to protect him from this,” she says, before bursting into tears.