Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 48

"A blackmail scheme," she agreed quietly. "Tom keeps his hands clean. Literally.

And the others..."

Cooper finished her thought. "The others put their neck on the line to protect

whatever secrets he has on them."

They both grew quiet as a group of sophomores—a different crowd than the one

Calla ran with, but familiar faces all the same—wandered past, disappearing through

the gym doors. Knowing they didn't have long before the bell rang, Calla followed

their lead, slowly walking down the hall, trailing her fingertips along its cool surface.

But why take all the risk? she wondered, keeping her thoughts to herself. Why check

out the book? If he has dirt on the trio, he would use it as leverage. He wouldn't have

cast suspicion on his name. Let someone else take the fall.

"Timeout." Cooper made a halting motion with his hands. "If this is a group

effort...who the hell are we going after? Jess and Mike? The twins? Tom ?"

"All of them." Calla kept her expression neutral despite the storm of fury boiling

inside her.

On the other side of the hall, Cooper fisted his hands in his hair and swore. "I hate

this. I feel like we know way too much and not nearly enough at the same time. Do

you ever feel like that?"

"All the time," she agreed wryly, surprised that he felt the same. How much more

could they possibly have in common? A scary thought.

She continued down the hall, a frown beginning to turn down the corners of her

mouth as his words sank in.

We know way too much and not nearly enough.

Just a couple of kids playing at detective. And failing.

"Y'know, Calla," Cooper started, startling her. She glanced back at where he trailed

behind, his eyes located on some point in the distance over her shoulder. "I've been

thinking. About a different theory. About Tracy. And you, uh, killing...or not killing

her."

"Oh." She turned around, continuing her slow stroll to their final class of the day.

This again. "Yeah. And?"

"I mean...what if you didn't kill her?"

Calla hated a what if.

"Do I get a prize?" she asked sarcastically, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

"I'm serious, Calla," he complained, hurrying over. He stepped in front of her,

blocking her path. "It changes things."

"It changes nothing." Her voice was short. Clipped. She stared at her fingers

hovering on the wall, at the tiny blue veins that ran just beneath the skin of her wrist.

I saw Tracy go upstairs. Someone followed her up there. It was a girl. I know it was a

girl.

Were Calla anyone else, she might have clung to the hope of innocence. She might

have pointed the finger at Jessica. She could have cited a dozen incidents over the

years that would have fueled Jessica's fire, that would have inspired a frame job of

such a magnitude. Perhaps Calla had been drugged—she wouldn't have turned

away a drink from a friend. And perhaps that drunk had given Jessica the window

she needed to plant the blood on her hands and the mud on her boots, planting the

idea in her head that she, Calla Parker, had committed murder.

But Calla did not feel that hope. Not so much as a whisper of it.

"It changes everything," Cooper insisted, his voice turning empathetic. He leaned

forward, trying to get her attention, trying to get her to look at him. "You could be

innocent. Do you really want to throw all that away to get reven—"

Oh, she should have had more control. She knew she should have.

But she didn't. Not with Cooper. And not when it came to Rachel.

She moved before he could react, reaching out to grab his shoulder and slam him

against the wall. She kicked his ankle, knocking him off balance. He wobbled and

she threw her weight into him, sending him to his knees.

He fell with a curse. She planted a hand on the back of his head, forcing him to the

ground. Her fingers tightened in his hair and he gasped.

She hovered above him. "Don't get in my way, Daniels. Not when it comes to

Rachel."

You deserve to be happy...

"Okay, okay!" Cooper shouted frantically, panting. "I got it!"

Calla released her grip and turned to resume her slow walk along the wall. She heard

Cooper scramble to his feet behind her, groaning and cursing under his breath.

"Good," Calla said. "Glad that's settled."

"Psychopath," he snapped behind her.

She snickered as she entered the gym, the tardy bell ringing to signal her arrival.

Cooper walked a step behind her. She could feel him seething, but she didn't care.

They'd made a deal. And he was damn well going to honor that.

"Coop!"

They both looked up at the voice. Vincent sat on the opposite side of the gym,

perched in the bleachers with the rest of the class. The majority of the faces were

familiar ones. Calla recognized several kids she had in other classes. And there,

sitting a couple of rows below Vincent, were Stephanie and Gareth.

Calla was mildly pleased to see Stephanie, who greeted her with an enthusiastic

wave. Gareth looked less excited, sitting slightly apart from the others, his jaw tight.

Someone had certainly pissed in his Cheerios that morning.

Out of the six suspects she and Cooper were balancing, Gareth crossed her mind

the least. Maybe it was the vacant light in his eyes. Maybe it was the way he

laughed whenever someone drew a d**k in the window of a grimy car.

Or maybe it was the fact that Calla would rather die than live in a world where

Gareth Walker could outsmart her at...well. Anything.

She sincerely hoped he was the placid, ignorant fool she thought he was. Otherwise

she was going to look awfully stupid. Which would really piss her off.

In the spirit of covering all their bases, Calla was about to point him out to Cooper—

perhaps murdering their classmates had put Gareth in a foul mood?—when

someone else caught her eye, distracting her from Gareth completely. He sat in the

bleachers with the others, looking effortless in blue jeans and a crisp white t-shirt,

his blonde hair tousled to messy perfection.

He waved and gestured for her to sit beside him. One of the freshmen at the bottom

of the bleachers, who'd been watching him with hopeful eyes, sighed wistfully. Her

friend gave Calla a jealous once-over.

Of course Cory Michaels was in her P.E. class. God did, after all, have a sense of

humor.

"Your boyfriend is here," Cooper stage-whispered in her ear, his voice tinged with

delight. He was no doubt enjoying every moment of her discomfort—especially after

the stunt she'd pulled in the hall.

"I'm going to make your life hell," she whispered back, giving Cory a shy smile. At

least she hoped it was a shy smile and not a pained grimace.

"It's too late for that," Cooper grumbled. "You've been ruining my life for years now."

"Please," she quipped, climbing the bleachers before he could respond. "I'm just

getting started."