Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 38

Ryan Kane.

Jessica Sneider. Gareth Walker. Mike Richardson. Blake Richardson. Astrid Baker.

Calla recited the names in her head as she waited for Cooper in the driveway, her

breath drifting lazily in the cold air.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it grudgingly, her irritation growing when she saw

the name on the screen: Cory Michaels.

Of course it was Cory Michaels.

He was probably asking if she needed a lift to Jessica's, which was considerate and

helpful and annoying in every way. She knew she probably should have accepted his

offer...after all, she needed to keep him close. But she didn't have the patience.

Just seeing his name pop up on her screen filled her with loathing.

He'd left her alone after their last encounter, giving her space to grieve, to process

the new routine of her life sans Rachel. But with school looming around the corner,

Cory had apparently determined the time for mourning was passed. He'd redoubled

his efforts to see Calla, texting her without fail every morning and night to check in

on her. Had her situation been different, she might have been flattered.

But her situation wasn't different. She had better things to do than amuse Cory

Michaels with inane conversation about what she was doing and what he was doing

and how they could do those things together. But shutting him out entirely wasn't

an option, either. She still needed to get her hands on those autopsy reports. And if

there was even the slightest chance that manipulating Cory could give her what she

needed, she had to do it.

She just couldn't do it tonight. Her temper was too short. Her nerves too frayed.

She wasn't in any state to flirt with anyone, least of all Cory.

Sighing, she typed back a quick response before shoving her phone back in her

pocket. She watched impatiently as a red Mustang pulled out of the apartment

complex a hundred yards down the road. She tapped her foot once. Twice.

There has to be a way to get those reports, Calla thought, unable to help herself. She

thought of little else these days. If they aren't in Cory's house...then they must be at

the station.

Cooper's obnoxious horn interrupted her train of thought. He threw the car in park in

the middle of the road, not bothering to pull into the driveway, and smirked at her

through the window. She rolled her eyes and stomped over, ripping open the

passenger door.

"I think you're getting more annoying, if that's possible," she snapped, ducking into

the car.

"Uh-uh." He held his hand over the seat, blocking her path. "You gotta sit in the

back."

She stared at him. The cold air bit at her exposed midriff, causing her to shiver. "The

back?"

He fidgeted uncomfortably, wiping his hands on his jeans. "We kinda got another

stop to make."

"What stop?"

"Vincent needs a ride."

Calla let out a long sigh, leaning out of the car to lift her face to the inky sky. She

closed her eyes. "Cooper."

"I know, I know. It was last minute."

"Let me guess. He was supposed to get a lift from Astrid and she bailed?"

Silence from inside the car. Calla leaned back down to pin Cooper with a look.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"The same Astrid who may or may not be a serial killer?"

"Even more reason to help him out," Cooper argued, giving her a significant look. He

was really fidgeting now, his fingers playing with the buttons of his pullover. "We

can't leave those two alone together! I know I said I didn't want you near him, but—"

"Just," she held up a hand, halting his rambling speech, "whatever."

Muttering to herself, she scrambled into the backseat, making a point to shove

Cooper's head as she went. She frowned at the cluster of loose papers and empty

water bottles at her feet. It might have seemed normal, had Cooper not typically

kept his ride so pristine. She glanced up at the rearview mirror, only to find him

scowling back at her, as if daring her to comment.

"Your car is a mess," she said brightly, flicking a stray piece of paper into the floor.

He threw the car into drive and they lurched forward. Calla smirked, basking in his

annoyance.

Her enjoyment was short-lived. She stared at the empty seat beside her and tried

hard to ignore a wave of nostalgia. The last time she'd been back here, she hadn't

been alone. She imagined she could still hear Rachel's laughter echoing in the

backseat, but her vibrant presence—always so bold, so bright—was missing. She

was gone.

You deserve to be happy.

Calla could feel the beast inside clawing further up her belly, into her chest.

"Hello?"

Calla looked into the rearview mirror. Cooper stared back, one eyebrow raised.

"What?" She kept her voice low and controlled, shoving the beast back down.

"For someone so observant, you can be a s**t listener, you know that?" Cooper

rolled his eyes and looked back at the road. "I want to rescind my stipulation."

"What?" Calla had no patience for his word games. Not tonight.

"I don't want Vincent near Astrid," he explained. "Not if she's tied to Rachel's death."

Calla frowned. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"I'm just...look, I don't know what happened between you guys—"

"We still need Cory," Calla interrupted. "Vincent is a distraction. I can't play both

sides."

"Why do we still need Cory?" he asked, frustrated. "So we can get our hands on

autopsy reports we don't really need?"

"And how do you know we don't need them?"

"How do you know that we do?" Cooper shot back, exasperated. He drummed his

fingers on the steering wheel, taking a hard right. "I'm just saying, you seem a little

obsessed about this whole autopsy thing. People are getting their throats slashed.

End of story. Goodnight. What else is there?"

"There could be something we missed." Calla stared straight ahead, refusing to look

at his reflection.

"We can solve this thing without autopsy reports," Cooper argued. "We have other

leads. Good leads. Besides, if there was anything really that important in a report,

don't you think the police would have someone in custody by now?"

Calla clenched her teeth together, fighting the urge to dig her nails into her palms.

She tried to keep her expression nonchalant, but something in her eyes and the

tense set of her mouth must have given her away. Cooper analyzed her in the

rearview and narrowed his eyes, the car slowing to a crawl despite the 35-mile an

hour speed limit.

"You don't think those reports will actually help us catch the killer, do you?" he

murmured. He pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road, next to a broken

down house in desperate need of repairs. "What do you think you'll find in those

reports, Calla?"