"You look like death."
"This is why you don't have a girlfriend," Calla grumbled as she tumbled into the
passenger seat. Cooper watched her with mistrust.
"Really?" he mused, carefully pulling away from her driveway and out into the road. "I
kind of thought it was because I have a crippling fear of being choked, mutilated,
and bled out by a serial killer. Or the fact that I'm aiding and abetting a different
murderer, who carved up my childhood pet like a premium filet mignon. But that's
just me, I guess."
From the passenger seat, Calla groaned. "It's too early for your bullshit."
He rolled his eyes. "Just tell me what happened. You haven't filled me in since your
little date with Cory."
She said nothing, wrapped in an uncharacteristic bubble of silence. Cooper glanced
sideways at her, his eyes darting from the road to her face. Dark circles hung under
her eyes; her hair had been tossed into a careless bun, tendrils of fire falling around
her face.
"I didn't want to text you the details," she said quietly. He strained to make out her
words. "And since Vincent made himself at home in your apartment for the
weekend..."
"Just spill." He glanced at the clock on his dashboard. "We'll be at Vincent's in five
minutes."
Cooper, Vincent and Calla. Carpooling to school. Together. Had anyone told him a
year ago that this was where his life would lead, he would have laughed. Or thrown
up. Violently.
"I know who they are. The killers."
Cooper had to keep himself from slamming on the breaks.
"Well?" he demanded. He took the next curve too quickly, his thoughts scattered.
"Who? And how do you know? What evidence—"
"You were right about Ryan," she interrupted, her voice still distant. It sent a chill
down his spine.
Cooper didn't hold back this time. He slammed on the brakes.
Calla swore, coming to life. She braced her hands against the dashboard as they
came to a screeching stop in the middle of the road. Cooper's hands trembled on
the steering wheel, his eyes wide and wild.
"Have you totally lost it?" Calla snapped. She glared at him, but he barely noticed.
"I was right?" he asked, uncertain.
"Yes, you fool. Now move out of the road. "
"Oh. Sorry." He pressed down on the accelerator and they lurched forward.
Calla said nothing about his driving. "How did you put it together? About Ryan and
the drugs?"
"Vincent." Cooper shrugged, as if that explained everything. He squinted to better
see through the fog. "He told me about the detective watching Ryan's place. And
the things Ryan said...it just clicked. I took another look at this picture I got of him
at the gala. I thought I'd seen something off, but I didn't know what. He definitely
had coke on his tie. Sloppy, if you ask me. But I figured he must be involved
somehow, and that's why he was back in the bathrooms at the gala, and again right
before Gareth lost it." A pause. "I think he only told us about Gareth to try and get
us off his case."
"A red herring," Calla murmured.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." She took a deep breath and sat back in her seat, contemplative as
Cooper rounded the next bend in the road. Vincent's house loomed ahead.
"What else do you know, Calla?" he asked, pulling to a stop in front of Vincent's
house. The tires screeched. "You said you knew who the killers were. What..."
You're asking the wrong questions, Coop. Not what. Who.
"Cory gave me names. Two names. He said they're processing evidence as we
speak, and once that's finalized...jail time."
Evidence. They'd found something. A print. A bloody hoodie, maybe. Something that
would be cause enough to make an arrest.
"They really figured it out, then." He stared straight ahead, his grip on the steering
wheel tightening. His knuckles went white. "I guess I already know the first name."
Ryan Kane.
He thought of the photograph under his bed, of two boys with their arms thrown
over each other and huge grins on their faces. The cryptic words on the back took
on a completely different meaning to Cooper now.
"It's Ryan," Calla confirmed. "And you know the second name, too."
He shot her a look, afraid to guess. Five other names ran through his head—Gareth?
Jess? But he really didn't have to guess. After a moment's thought, he realized he
already knew.
A lump formed in his throat. He struggled to say the name aloud. "Astrid Baker."
As if on cue, Vincent burst through the screen door, distracting them for a moment.
Cooper's eyes shot to the house. Calla followed his line of sight, far less panicked. If
anything, vicious pleasure coated her next words.
"Astrid Baker," she repeated quietly, stepping out of the car. She smiled at Vincent
as he ran up to the car with the sort of silly grin that Cooper hadn't seen in a long
time.
"After you," she said, holding the door open. How easily she transitioned from
psychopath to flirtatious love interest.
Vincent craned his neck and frowned into the backseat. "Why does the biggest guy
get put in the back ?"
"'Cause I called shotgun." She avoided his playful shove.
Cooper rolled his eyes. "I'm going to vomit."
He wished he were joking. Those two names played in a loop, taunting him as he
turned the car around and began driving in the general direction of the highschool.
Ryan Kane. Astrid Baker. Murderers.
He still couldn't picture it. Why had those two teamed up? The victims hadn't been
chosen at random. The murders were too theatrical for happenstance, the clues too
thoughtfully constructed.
That line of questioning brought him to the most final—and possibly most important
—question. Why did they want him dead? If anything, Ryan and Astrid had been
pleasant to him over the years. What had changed?
Cooper remained silent for the rest of the drive, occasionally grunting at a comment
from his passengers. For all their flirtations, he could still feel a sort of tension in the
car, filling the space with an air of discomfort that made their laughter a little
tighter, their smiles more fleeting. He wondered what Calla was thinking, what plots
she was forming even now.
And Vincent's not blind to what's going on. Not as much as I thought, anyway. Cooper
met his friend's eyes in the rearview mirror. What happens when he finds out about
Calla's date with Cory? When he pieces together why we've really been spending so
much time together?
Cooper whipped into his usual spot, squeezing between two large trucks. He sighed
as he undid his seatbelt, the beginnings of a massive headache forming in the space
between his eyes.
"Hey...Calla?" Vincent asked hesitantly, leaning forward to prop his elbows against
their headrests. He had to stoop slightly to accommodate his size. The life of a
giant. "I have something I need to tell you."
She glanced back at him, one hand on the door handle. Confusion drew her brows
low over her eyes. "What is it?"
Vincent looked from her to Cooper, who sighed heavily. He knew exactly what
Vincent wanted to talk about, but why he wanted to discuss it here, in the
Greenwitch High parking lot, was beyond Cooper.
Poor guy has no idea I already told Calla everything. About Ryan's skeevy behavior,
Astrid's texts...all of it.
He really wasn't looking forward to hashing it all out again, but he rolled his eyes
and motioned for Vincent to continue. "If you're going to tell her, tell her now and
get it over with."
Calla frowned over at Cooper, playing her part perfectly. If she felt the same inner
turmoil he did, she certainly didn't show it. "Tell me what?"
"I know this sort of sounds...totally insane? But I think..." Vincent hesitated. And
then the words poured out. "I think Ryan and Astrid are wrapped up in these
murders somehow."
Cooper stared straight ahead. He didn't trust his acting skills half as much as he
trusted Calla to absorb the news with an appropriate amount of shock.
From what he could see of her in his peripheral, she did just that. Skepticism coated
her words. "Vincent..."
"Just hear me out," he said quickly, and then he proceeded to break down what he'd
told Cooper on Saturday. When he fumbled or began to drift off, lost in his own side
commentary, Cooper steered him back on track, keeping the play-by-play as
concise as possible.
"Here," Vincent mumbled, passing over his phone. "Check out her texts and tell me
I'm wrong."
Calla took the phone hesitantly—which must have been an act of extreme control—
and scrolled through Astrid's frantic messages. She soaked in every word, a look of
carefully composed horror on her face.
It had not been horror on her face when she first delivered the news of Astrid's
guilt. No. It had been glee. She hid that now, burying it beneath the thick,
impenetrable layers of her mask.
Her lips thinned into a flat line as she finished analyzing Astrid's texts.
"This...doesn't look great. Why haven't you gone to the police with this?"
Cooper shot her the briefest of looks, trying his best not to let his own puzzlement
show. Until now, he hadn't considered the possibility of Vincent turning Astrid in.
Perhaps because Cooper had ditched the idea of going to the police himself so long
ago, in part because of Calla's threats to ruin his best friend's life if he did .
But Vincent...what held him back?
"I know I should," he said miserably. "But I just...what if she isn't involved? And who
would take me seriously. Everyone will think I'm a jealous asshole or something." He
paused, brows furrowing. "And I'm still trying to figure out how Ryan ties into all of
this, y'know? I don't want to get Astrid in trouble if he's the guy."
Of course. He's still protecting Astrid.
Calla considered Vincent's explanation, stony-faced. She couldn't have been thrilled
to hear about the lengths he'd gone to for Astrid. To protect her name. To protect
her reputation.
Ironic, considering the target Vincent had just put on her back by dragging her into
Calla's line of sight.
"Vincent," Cooper started, prepared to try to dissuade his friend from asking any
other pointed questions. "Look—"
Calla interrupted him. "We've not been honest with you."
Cooper's speech died in his mouth. He fought back a wave of panic as she
proceeded to tear down the tower of secrets that they'd been building over the last
three months.
"Confession time." She took a deep breath. "Coop and I have been trying to track
down the killer ever since Rachel died. We want to find who did it. And we didn't
know how to tell you because we weren't sure how you'd react."
Silence.
What the hell are you doing, he wanted to scream, preferably while he strangled her
with his own two hands. This is the opposite of keeping him safely in the dark!
Vincent looked at the both of them with wide, skeptical eyes. "You guys...have been
hunting down a serial killer ?"
Neither of them said or did anything to confirm his question. The Mustang's engine
began to whine and Cooper ripped out the keys, the car going completely silent. And
still, no one moved. Cooper wasn't even sure anyone dared to breathe.
He certainly didn't.
"Are you kidding me?" Vincent finally asked, affronted. "That is...so badass. And you
didn't think to tell me?"
Before Cooper could duck out of the way, Vincent punched his shoulder, hard
enough to leave a bruise. Cooper rubbed his arm and winced. "Ow."
Not the reaction I expected. Or wanted. He should be afraid, not excited.
"Thanks for telling me," Vincent said hotly, shooting him an accusatory look. "But
really... why didn't you tell me?"
"Because we're teenagers trying to catch a serial killer?" Cooper mumbled. "And that
sounds totally insane and stupid?"
He looked over at Calla, and for just the span of a heartbeat, they shared a look . It
was the sort of look that said, so we aren't going to tell him about you being a
murdering psychopath and me helping you track down the killer so you can slice their
throat and throw their body into a river? Excellent. Glad we're on the same page!
That's what he liked to think passed between them as their eyes met, anyway. Calla
looked away quickly, giving Vincent an apologetic shrug.
"We didn't want to wrap you up in this," she said, reaching out to grab one of his
hands. He let her, a flush creeping across his cheeks and down his neck.
"And...well. We've had to go to certain lengths to get the information we need."
Ah. So that's how she's going to avoid the fallout of her little date with blondie.
"Like?" Vincent asked, his eyes alight with curiosity. "What have you guys found out?
I want to help, especially if my psychotic...almost-ex is involved." He winced. "Wait.
Should I take these texts to the station?"
Calla spoke a little too quickly. "No. Don't go to the police." She paused, sliding
back into character. "Not yet. You're right. We don't know if she's involved or not,
and you aren't in the best place to be the one turning her in. No one will take it
seriously."
Half truths mixed in with little lies. Calla was right in that no one would take
Vincent's accusations seriously. But she conveniently left out the part where the
lead detective's son had confirmed Astrid's involvement in the murders. That fact
alone would send Vincent running, tail tucked, to the station—if only to wash his
hands of blame and guilt.
She cleared her throat and looked away, her hands still clutching his. "You're not
gonna like this part. About how we've been getting our information."
Vincent frowned. "What? Why?"
"Cory's been filling in a lot of the gaps," Cooper explained when Calla hesitated. He
leaned back against the headrest, gesturing with his hands. "His dad's the lead
detective on the case. It's been useful. We found out there were prints on the bottle
used to kill Rachel. We just don't know whose prints."
More half truths. More lies.
Keep it vague, Coop. We can't tell him everything. His eyes drifted to Calla. Definitely
not everything.
The look in Vincent's eyes softened as he looked at Calla. "This has to be hard.
Talking about her like this."
She shrugged, looking away. "It's why I'm doing this. For her."
Cooper wasn't so sure her words were a lie. Not exactly. He analyzed her
expression, down to the last detail. But if there was any sign of dishonesty, he
couldn't find it.
Cooper remained quiet, deciding to omit the details about Calla breaking into
Detective Michaels' home office. The less Vincent knew about how they'd acquired
their information, the better.
"So. How are you getting Cory to talk?" Vincent asked, skepticism creeping into his
voice.
Calla grumbled something under her breath that even Cooper couldn't catch.
"Calla," Vincent said with a sigh. "Just say it."
"We went on a date," she said in a rush. "And I hated every minute of it. But he told
me about the prints." A lie. But safer to say this, than to admit they had already
narrowed down their list of suspects. "What else am I supposed to do? Break into
the police station and steal the information?"
She doesn't sound very opposed to that idea, either, Cooper mused sourly, forcing
down an eyeroll. How many times had she seriously considered doing just that—
stealing into the police station to take the information they needed by force?
"You really took one for the team there," Vincent muttered dryly, his jaw tight. He
closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a muscle in his jaw fluttering.
"I don't like Cory," she promised, leaning forward to try and get him to look at her.
Cooper saw her hands tighten around Vincent's fingers. "He just has the
connections we need. We, Vincent. If you're going to be a part of this...you're going
to have to do some s**t you don't like, either."
Come again? Cooper's eyes narrowed.
Vincent took another deep breath, his frown deepening. His fingers flexed around
hers. "Like what?"
Calla pursed her lips. "We need to know what those texts from Astrid were all
about."
This is why she's bringing Vincent on board. Of course it is.
Cooper wasn't sure what game she was playing at. They had the information they
needed...then again, that information had come from the mouth of someone who
desperately wanted to impress Calla. The detectives could have the wrong
information—or worse, the wrong leads. After all, they still had no idea what role
Tom Sahein played in all of this. Had Ryan and Astrid been used as pawns? If so,
the real culprit could still be just beyond their grasp. Their work wasn't finished. Not
yet.
Vincent winced. "You want me to talk to her, don't you?"
"I don't like the idea. Obviously. But..." She frowned, genuinely displeased.
"Why can't you talk to her?" Vincent asked, giving Cooper a furtive look. "Why me?"
Cooper let out a long, heavy sigh, tilting his head back and staring at the roof of his
car. "We don't really know her, Vincent. Calla's right. It's gotta be you. 'Sides,
I'm...I've gotta talk to Ryan," he said, surprising even himself.
If I confront him about the drug ring, maybe I can get a reaction from him, he thought,
slowly putting a plan of action together in his head. Get him to admit the truth. If he's
being blackmailed, we need to find out. Sooner rather than later.
He looked down just in time to see Calla and Vincent raise both eyebrows.
"Seriously?" Vincent asked, frowning again. "Is that safe? I mean, if you go around
accusing him of killing people, isn't he gonna be pissed?"
"I'm not gonna accuse him of murder, " Cooper argued, before remembering that
Vincent had no idea about their little blackmail theory. He scrambled to backup his
last statement. "I'll be subtle about it, okay?"
"As long as it's in a public space..." Calla thought aloud, no doubt far less concerned
for his well being than Vincent was. "It shouldn't be dangerous. And if Ryan flips,
he'll out himself for sure."
"Then it's settled," Vincent said, his voice swelling with determination. He tried to lift
his head but was met with the roof of the Mustang. He winced. "I'll talk to Astrid.
Cooper talks to Ryan. And Calla...?"
He trailed off, looking at her. She shrugged. "I've gotten what I can from Cory. But
there are a...couple of loose ends I need to check on."
Loose ends. Code for Tom Sahein.
Cooper opened the door. Shivering in the cold air, he meandered to the other side of
the car, where Vincent struggled to escape the backseat. Calla watched him with an
amused smile playing on her lips. Cooper couldn't help but think she looked a little
bit like a cat that had just stumbled upon a trapped mouse, squealing as it tried to
wiggle away.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. How the hell had the day already
turned out like this ?
"Alright, team!" He let out a surprised little oof as Vincent, now free from the car,
grabbed him and pulled him under his arm. He did the same to Calla on his other
side. "Let's do this shit."
Vincent smiled, eager, as if this were some board game he'd finally been invited to
play. Forming alliances, tracking down suspects...
He never saw Tracy's body. Never saw the horror of what lies beneath Calla's skin...
"You're an i***t," Calla said with a laugh, shoving away from him.
Cooper hated to agree.
From across the parking lot, Jessica got out of her car and glared over at the trio.
Astrid stepped out of the passenger side and stared at Vincent with an entirely
different expression, her eyes wild with desperation. When they landed on Calla,
hatred twisted her mouth into a thin line.
"I don't know about you," Cooper muttered as they walked past a row of cars,
passing Gareth's pickup truck and Cory's gleaming Honda, "but that doesn't look
like the face of someone who has their temper in check."
Vincent stopped, forcing Calla and Cooper to do the same. Hesitating for only a
moment, he put on a brave face. "Speaking of unchecked tempers...I've got to go
do my part. I'll see you guys in gym."
Without so much as a look over his shoulder, he backtracked across the parking lot,
making a beeline for Astrid. Jessica tried to grab her arm and lead her toward the
school, but Astrid shook her off, giving Vincent a hesitant smile.
"Are you sure this was a good idea, Calla?" Cooper murmured, looking at her
uncertainly.
Her eyes never left Vincent. She watched him go, her lips stuck in a tight line. "I
have no idea. But he had too many questions. We didn't really have a choice but to
loop him in, somehow. And he's the only one who can talk to Astrid."
Cooper returned his attention to Vincent's retreating form. "Do you think they're
working together? Astrid and Ryan, I mean."
"Astrid, Ryan...Tom?" Her eyes narrowed. "It could be just the two of them. Maybe
we have that Sahein kid all wrong. At this point, I don't know what to think. But
Cory's intel has been good so far. His father is smart. He's putting together the
right pieces, and with the insight we have...I trust it."
Calla's uncertain admission scared Cooper more than he wanted to admit. Watching
her fumble with the clues, getting lost in the circles of her own mind...
"Calla!" an excited voice exclaimed behind them. They turned to see Cory grabbing
his athletic bag from the passenger side of his car. He grinned over at her, ignoring
Cooper entirely. "Hey, how was the rest of your weekend?"
"See you," Cooper muttered, waving at Cory and giving Calla a significant look
before heading toward the school. She gave him a brief wave, barely bothering to
lift a hand in farewell, before diverting her attention to Cory. He soaked it up like a
man in the desert finding his first drink of water for miles.
Cooper heard her laugh, but he kept his eyes forward, confident in her ability to twist
information from an already dry well. If there was any more evidence to be had,
Calla would find it.
Happy hunting, he thought darkly, disappearing inside the school.