Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 74

Cooper eyed him, his heart hammering. "Pretty sure that's what the

killer usually says."

"Look," Ryan tried again, desperate now. He clasped his hands

together. "Gerald Michaels is doing my dad a favor, okay? That's

all it is. My old man won't leave me alone in the house for more

than two seconds. He doesn't trust me. And..." A heavy sigh. Ryan

closed his eyes. "Cory bought from me a couple times, and his dad

found out. He didn't want my s**t going public, 'cause he knew

Cory would get wrapped up in it, alright?"

Cooper crossed his arms. "So, what? He's your personal

babysitter?"

"Basically." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's the only

reason I'm on unofficial house arrest, or whatever. It's not like he

just sits outside. Did you see him when you came barreling up

here?"

I didn't come barreling anywhere, Cooper thought, flustered. But

then he thought back, trying to picture the street as he'd seen it

before. He'd been so panicked, he'd barely taken a moment to

breathe, let alone examine the scenery.

Apprehensive, Cooper inched toward the front window, keeping his body

angled toward the other boy, who rolled his eyes. He flicked open

one of the blinds, peering out at the street.

Nothing. Not a soul in sight.

Cooper's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Well..."

"He's got better things to do," Ryan said, his voice low and

depressed. Cooper turned to see him lift the hem of his

sweatpants, revealing a monitor on his ankle. "Courtesy of the

detective. This thing can track when and where I take a piss. I've

been wearing it for a couple weeks now. The whole detective

lurking outside my house thing was just a temporary fix."

Cooper stared down at the tracker, his eyes fixating on the blinking

red light.

He slumped against the front door and, very slowly, he slid to the

ground.

"I was already on the way home when they found Jessica," Ryan

added, sounding exhausted. "I go to school and then come straight

back home, remember?"

"It wasn't you," Cooper whispered from the floor, relief flooding his

system. "But the night Rachel died. You were there, back in the

bathrooms. You ran..."

Still wary, Ryan mimicked Cooper and sat on the living room floor,

leaning his back against the wall. He brought his knees to his

chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. With a shrug, he said, "I

bolted 'cause of the drugs, dude. I didn't exactly want to get

caught doing blow in the bathroom. Gareth and I went back there

for a quick bump. He left after. I stayed. More guys were supposed

to meet me for a baggie, but I guess s**t hit the fan. I went outside

to see what the hell was taking so long, and...well. You know the

rest."

But I don't, Cooper thought, frustrated now. And that's the problem.

They were both silent for a moment, each lost in their own

thoughts. And then, very quietly, Cooper asked: "Who knows?

About you dealing?"

Ryan stared down at his mismatched socks and frowned. "The people I sold to. Gareth. Astrid. That

little b***h, Venus. Cory. Not Jessica, that's for sure." A dark

chuckle. "Trevor. Ali. A couple freshmen. The senior class

president, too."

"Ali Marks ?" Cooper asked, dumbfounded. The Sheriff's niece?

"Yup," he said dryly. "You'd be surprised, dude."

Cooper rubbed his forehead. "How did you even get into this

stuff?"

Ryan sighed. He spread his hands. "I dunno. One of the older guys

on the team, I guess?" His eyes glazed over as a memory washed

over him. "Yeah. Trey. Graduated last year. Cory got us into one of

his parties and he offered us a line. And I guess we got to talking."

Another heavy sigh. "How does this s**t ever happen, y'know?"

Burying his head in his hands, Cooper let out a heavy sigh.

Blow. That's all it came down to. A little bit of white powder. A bad

night transformed into a bad habit—one that quickly spiraled into a

bad business.

But he wasn't a killer. He hadn't murdered Jessica over some petty

squabble. That much was certain. And if he hadn't killed Jessica,

the odds of him killing Rachel were slim to none.

Gareth and I went back there for a quick bump. He left after. I

stayed. More guys were supposed to meet me for a baggie...

"How long were you waiting?" Cooper murmured, his head in his

hands.

"What?"

"Back in the bathroom. The night of the dance." Cooper looked at

him. "How long were you waiting for the other guys after Gareth

left?"

Ryan frowned, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him. "Five

minutes, max?"

Which is more than enough time to kill someone, Cooper thought,

picturing Gareth slipping from the bathroom and running into

Rachel. But why?

"Coop?" Ryan asked suddenly, startling him. Cooper looked up to

find the other boy staring, his dark eyes filled with uncertainty.

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean...before?" he murmured, uncertain. "About

Vincent and you being next , or whatever? And now, with all these

questions..."

Cooper ran a hand through his hair. "Oh. Nothing. I don't know.

Just haven't been sleeping, I guess."

He tried to smile. Based on Ryan's reaction, it must not have been

very convincing.

The other boy stared and stared. And then, relenting, he said, "You

and me both."

He doesn't believe me. But it is what it is.

They sat there for an awkward moment, Cooper's back throbbing

where Ryan had thrown him into the coat hanger. His phone

buzzed, the sound abnormally loud in the silence of the house.

Ryan watched him while he dug it out of his pocket.

A text from Calla.

Where are you?

Ryan's.

Why?

He's good. Meet you at my place in 20?

She didn't respond. Of course.

I have to tell her, he thought, the panic from before kicking his

heart back into high gear. I have to tell her before she comes for

him.

He stood, probably a little too quickly. His head spun. "I, uh...I

should probably go."

Ryan stood with him, his brows drawn low. He opened his mouth

to say something, but Cooper cut him off. He didn't want to give

him a chance to start asking questions.

"I'm sorry...for, y'know, being an ass." He rubbed the back of his

neck. "It's been a rough couple of months."

"You're telling me," Ryan muttered, still standing several feet from

Cooper. His eyes were hard and distant, but not spiteful. Not bitter.

Maybe there was still a chance Cooper could make things right

between them. If either of them lived long enough.

Ryan cleared his throat. He gestured to his ankle. "Mind keeping

this between us?"

"Oh. Yeah." Cooper opened the door, hesitating at the threshold.

Cold air washed over him, raising the hair on his arms. "I will."

You, me...and Calla. Close enough, right?

He made a swift exit, not even bothering to look in the rearview

mirror as he raced back to his apartment. He had no doubt that

Ryan was watching him make his getaway. He would have

questions. Lots of questions.

Cooper could worry about that later. He had other, larger concerns

on his mind now.

He didn't kill Jess. But does that really mean he's innocent, Coop?

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Astrid could have killed

her. The benefit of a two-man team.

But why would Astrid kill her best friend? Her confidante?

Something's missing, he thought, frustrated. He took the next turn a

little too sharply. Something's not right. It's not adding up the way it

should be.

Because that's how mysteries worked. You found pieces of the

puzzle along the way. You put together your theories. And then, in

the end, the killer was revealed.

He and Calla had pieces of the puzzle. They had a murder weapon,

and fingerprints, and dead bodies and cryptic pages torn from

cryptic books and the mind of a psychopath on their side. So why

wasn't it adding up? Why hadn't Cooper had his ah-ha! moment

yet?

Frazzled, he pulled into the lot of his apartment complex and

sighed, leaning his head against the steering wheel. A headache

the size of Texas was forming in the spot between his eyes, and he

rubbed at it fiercely. Which, in hindsight, probably did nothing to

help.

Ripping his keys out of the ignition, Cooper stepped out of the car

and closed the door, leaning against it with a heavy sigh. He tilted

his head to the sky and closed his eyes.

Calla, where are you? I can't do this alone.

"Hey, Coop!"

In typical spaz fashion, Cooper fumbled his keys, accidentally

flinging them in the gravel. He whirled around to see Cory stepping

out of his Honda, an apologetic smile on his boy band face.

"Sorry," he said, walking over. He bent down to retrieve Cooper's

keys. The perfect f*****g gentleman. "I was just heading out. But I

saw you and...well. I thought you might know where Calla is?"

"What? Oh, no." He shuffled his feet, uncomfortable. "She's, ah..."

She's with Vincent for all I know, he thought sourly. Sorry, buddy.

Cory sighed, toying with Cooper's car keys. "I swear, she's

impossible to keep track of."

"That's Calla for you," he offered lamely. He held out his hand,

waiting for Cory to give him the keys.

He didn't. Cory kept flipping them around his fingers, staring down

at them absently. His blonde hair ruffled in a slight breeze, but he

didn't seem cold, not even in his short sleeve t-shirt. As if to

himself, he murmured, "I don't understand..."

"Well..." Cooper trailed off, dropping his hand. He pretended to

stretch, swinging his arms behind his back. "I'm gonna, ah, head

inside. I can text Calla for you, if you want."

"Yeah." Cory brightened, giving him a grateful smile. "Could you?"

"Oh. Sure." Irritated now, Cooper took out his phone and sent her a

string of increasingly agitated texts, ranting about Cory and how

his infatuation with her was now becoming his problem.

He held up his phone. "Sent it. Maybe I'll have better luck."

And then, with as much emphasis as he could muster, Cooper

held out his hand. Again.

Cory went still, the keys hanging from his index finger. That small

smile was still on his face, but it was different somehow. More

amused. He tilted his head to the side, watching Cooper the way a

cat might watch a bird outside of its window.

Or the way Calla might watch a cat outside of her window.

"My mom's waiting." Cooper had no idea why he said it. His mom

wasn't home—she was at work. But the words were past his lips

before he could fully understand why, exactly, he suddenly felt so

nervous.

His hand dropped by his side. It felt stiff. Numb.

Cory's amused smile grew. "Is she?"

That smile . And those pretty blue eyes.

Cooper didn't think about what he did next. He just ran . He ran the

way he had that day he'd found the dead cat in the field. But he

didn't make it home. Not this time.

He rounded the corner of his building when he felt a pair of

powerful arms wrap around his throat, cutting off his air supply.

For one wild moment, he thought Cory would snap his neck—just

like that. But the arms squeezed and squeezed, until his throat

tightened and his muscles began to grow slack, his brain

screaming for air.

And then Cooper's world went dark.