Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 18

"Tom Sahein?" she asked, keeping her tone light.

"Yeah." He sighed and pressed a button on his phone, forcing the screen to go dark.

"Kid's a menace. Stephanie should really pat herself on the back for that one. The name triggered a memory of a boy with oversized glasses and a

face full of freckles, a camera in hand. Finally putting a name to the face relieved an

itch she hadn't been able to scratch in days. "He's a freshman, isn't he?"

"And a major pain in my ass." Cory took the next right, careening down the winding

side road that would spit them out on the other side of town. "He's putting together

some 'baseball exclusive' on the new coach."

As a varsity player on the team, it made sense that Tom would be gunning for Cory

to get that exclusive , if a snippet on some small town baseball coach could be

called such a thing. Yet something about it, about that name— Tom Sahein —nagged

at her. She'd seen him roaming the halls. And she'd definitely caught him snapping

a picture that day at school. But she felt like he'd been wrapped up in something

else before. Something more memorable.

Stephanie's little protégé, eh?

"Isn't a baseball exclusive pretty tame?" Calla asked, turning so that she faced Cory.

"I mean, I know Steph's style. She's more into the rumor mill than the Greenwitch

High: Sports Edition vibe."

Cory squirmed under her stare. "Yeah. Well." He finally shot her a sly look. "He's

very aware of who my dad is. Considering he interrogated him the night of the

party."

Calla couldn't hide her disbelief. "Tom got brought in for questioning?"

"A few kids did," Cory admitted. "Not sure why Daniels was the only one who got

heat for it. I guess the whole finding a dead body will do that to a guy's reputation."

"Huh." Calla sat back, absorbing the insider information. "I guess I get it. I'm

assuming Tom had his camera on him that night?"

"We have a winner." He shot her a wink. "They confiscated it. Just for the weekend.

Not like they found anything, but the little dude still got pissed." He paused. "This is

all hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Of course," she agreed. "As long as we're speaking hypothetically...you said a few

kids got brought in."

She batted her eyes at him. He shook his head and laughed.

"That's not fair." He sighed and gave in. "It's not really a secret. I wouldn't be

surprised if it got out one way or the other, but...Ryan and Steph were brought in,

too. My dad talked to Ryan." He rolled his eyes. "He's always going on and on about

what a good kid that guy is. Mislead, " he said in a deep voice that was doubtless

meant to impersonate Gerald Michaels, "but good."

Calla laughed for his benefit. Best to keep the conversation light. As if she weren't

storing the information away, carefully cataloguing each new piece of evidence as

one might catalogue their insurance papers. "I didn't realize we were going out for

tea tonight. You should have warned me."

He groaned. "s**t. I've said too much, haven't I?"

"I can keep a secret," she assured him. His free hand rested on the gearshift. She

grabbed it and squeezed his fingers.

His phone buzzed for a second time. And then a third.

"Damn it, Tom." Cory's jaw tightened. He ignored the phone entirely this time.

"You think he's digging for information," Calla confirmed. She still held onto the

bouquet of flowers with her free hand. She stroked the petals, lost in thought.

"I know he's digging for information." He smiled, staring out at the road. "Like

someone else I know."

He's not as dense as he looks.

Calla sniffed, trying to play off the accusation. "I'm offended."

"No, you're not." He grinned over at her, flashing his dimples. "'Sides...I kinda like

it."

She raised another eyebrow, her frustration at being called out dissipating. "Oh?"

"If it means I get to hang out with a pretty girl...I'll take it." He pulled her hand up to

his lips and kissed her fingers, his eyes lingering on her face. "You're going to have

to work for it, though."

"Oh," she repeated, smiling this time. "Am I?"

"It's no small thing, sharing secrets." He returned her hand back to her thigh and

focused on the road. "And illegal. So...yeah." He smiled to himself. "You have your

work cut out for you."

"You know more about the note the killer left than you're letting on, don't you?" she

asked. She'd already been caught mid-roll. The game board was set.

Time to throw a wild card.

"Yup." He laughed and left it at that. Calla narrowed her eyes and held back from

reaching across the seat to throttle him.

It was close to eleven by the time they arrived at Trevor's. Cory parked his car at

the end of the dark street, the sidewalk dimly illuminated by flickering streetlamps.

Trevor's house sat at the corner of a fairly quiet neighborhood; two smaller, single-

story homes were nestled on either side, separated by a tall wooden fence installed

for privacy. Their windows were dark, though based on the volume of the music

blaring from inside Trevor's house, they wouldn't be for long.

"I give it an hour 'til the cops shut it down," Cory commented as they approached.

"I give it less," Calla countered. "Then again, I guess I shouldn't bet against the

detective's son, should I?"

The two-story house was by no means the elaborate abode typical of the Smith

family, but it was large enough to host an after party. The front lawn featured a

concrete path and two beer pong tables positioned on either side of it, both

occupied by faces Calla couldn't quite pinpoint through the darkness. A magnolia

tree sheltered the right side of the house, and more indistinct figures hovered under

its branches, the soft light of burning cigarettes and half-smoked blunts evident

even at a distance.

In one of the upstairs windows, someone pulled the blinds shut, blocking out the

onlookers below. A group of guys cheered and raised their red solo cups in salute.

"Drinks?" Cory asked, giving her a questioning look.

"Drinks." Calla led the way, grabbing Cory's hand as she marched up the concrete

path and to the front door. He squeezed her fingers, reveling in the public display of

affection.

"Calla!"

They'd barely walked through the door when a blur of green and black assaulted her,

throwing a pair of thin arms around her neck and effectively breaking her hold on

Cory's hand. Calla laughed as she embraced Rachel, who smelled faintly of tequila.

Rachel leaned back and grinned at Calla. "You came!"

"Huzzah." Calla glanced over at Cory and rolled her eyes. He grinned and made a

motion to the kitchen before vanishing into the crowd.

"How's it going?" Rachel breathed, her arms still around Calla's neck. "Has he tried

to kiss you? Did you let him? Have you—"

"Had a chance to breathe? Not yet." Calla pinched Rachel's side.

"Ouch!" She danced away. "Fine!"

"He's getting us drinks," Calla clarified. "And he kissed the back of my hand, if that

counts."

"Amazing." Rachel grabbed her hand and started pulling her to what she could only

assume was a bathroom down the hall. "By the way, you have some explaining to

do, missy."

Not bothering to knock, Rachel ripped open the last door at the end of the hall. Five

pairs of eyes shot their way. One of them belonged to a long-haired senior, a rolled

up five dollar bill in one hand, the other braced against the counter beside a line of

white powder.

"Whoops!" Rachel closed the door. She and Calla stared at each other.

And then they laughed.

"O-o-kay," Rachel dragged out the word, stifling another laugh. She tugged Calla in

the opposite direction, back toward the living room, where they hovered on the

edge of the crowd.

"You're not gonna ask me to explain the blow in the bathroom, are you?" Calla

teased, still stunned at the scene they'd walked in on.

"Absolutely not." Rachel glanced away, a nervous tic that Calla knew well.

"Besides," Rachel continued, a dangerous smile curling her lips. She leaned in to

whisper in her ear. " You're the one who's keeping secrets."

Calla clenched her teeth. She resisted the urge to react in any other way.

What does she know? What does she suspect? What—

"Vincent Townson," Rachel purred, squeezing Calla's upper arm with enough force

to hurt. "Why the hell didn't you tell me about Vincent?"

"Tell you what about Vincent?" Calla asked, genuinely floored. She couldn't help but

smile as relief flooded every inch of her body.

She hadn't been caught. Not yet.

"Stephanie told me—"

"There you are!"

They both looked up as Stephanie appeared out of thin air, out of breath from

fighting her way through the crowd. She handed Rachel a clear cup filled with OJ

and...yeah. That was the tequila Calla had caught a whiff of earlier.

"Where did you go?" Rachel demanded, tucking her hair behind her ear. Another

nervous tic of hers.

Calla wanted to snap a finger under her nose to get her attention, but she decided

to let the matter go. Whatever it was that Vincent Townson had done, she would

have to find out later.

"To find Jess," Stephanie said, looking put-out.

Calla crossed her arms. "What'd she do now?"

"You know how Jess is," Stephanie started, sounding unsure of herself. "She gets in these moods when she drinks."

"Steph," Calla explained patiently, "Jess is a mood. She's a b***h.

We all know this."

Both Rachel and Stephanie laughed. The other girl immediately perked up, though

her eyes still strayed back across the room, toward the kitchen.

Calla followed her gaze. She immediately spotted Jessica and Astrid in the kitchen,

the two girls sitting side by side on the island. Jessica had her mouth to Astrid's ear,

her sheet of blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail. And Astrid had her eyes on

Calla.

Cory stepped into her line of vision, his eyes trailing down to her waist. He deftly

side-stepped a stumbling senior and inserted himself between Calla and Stephanie,

who gave him a friendly smile.

"Got your drink." He offered her a red solo cup.

She sniffed it experimentally. "Alright, bartender. Let's see what you've got."

Rachel and Stephanie resumed their conversation in lower tones, a worried frown

drawing down the corner of Rachel's mouth. It took all of Calla's willpower to focus

on the words Cory leaned down to whisper into her ear.

"Still trying to get comfortable tonight?"

I simply do not have time for this.

Calla turned to tell him as much—bringing their lips a mere inch apart—when

something shifted. She couldn't say what it was. Not immediately. But she could

feel it, a disturbance that rippled across the room and changed the atmosphere,

turning loud, drunken laughter into low whispers of terror.

Both she and Cory glanced around the room, along with everyone else who didn't

have their eyes glued to their phone. On her other side, Rachel grabbed her upper

arm and squeezed.

"Calla," she whispered, her brown eyes wide with horror. "Calla, it's Jacob Stein."

"What about Jacob Stein?" She pulled out her phone to hunt for whatever the hell

everyone was looking at, but Rachel's next words stopped her in her tracks.

"He's dead."