CHAPTER 37
1059 Words
Cooper held up his hand, wiggling his fingers. "So. Let me get this straight. I need to
break into the yearbook lab's drive to see if Sahein managed to get dirt on anyone.
We've got to sweep the library for a very specific book—or find out who the hell has
it, if they didn't have their hands on it already. You're going to get your hands on
those autopsy reports. And we're, somehow, supposed to figure out why Jacob
Stein was such a massive pile of s**t, besides the complete and total obvious anger
management issues?"
Calla considered him for a moment. And then she shrugged. "Sounds about right."
"Sounds about impossible. And overwhelming. Can we write this down
somewhere?"
"Coop," she said through clenched teeth. "It's logic. We track down and collect
evidence. We prove and disprove every theory we can get our hands on. And we
nail down the son of a b***h who has the motive to kill our classmates—including
you."
"Right. Logic." He tried to hide his expression of pain.
Calla's phone buzzed on the coffee table, startling them both. She leaned forward
with a groan. "What now?"
He watched her read the text, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
"What?" he asked, craning his neck.
"We're in luck," she said slowly, her eyes darting across the screen. "Jessica's
hosting a memorial for the dead. New Years' Eve."
"Oh. That's morbid." Cooper sat up, trying to look like he knew why, exactly, this
was good news. "So...?"
"If I had to guess, all six of our new best friends will be there." Calla pushed the
blanket off of her legs and stood, walking toward her room. "We can keep an eye on
them. Don't forget—you're still number six on the killer's hit list."
"How could I forget?" he muttered, pushing himself upright and following her. "Wait.
Calla?"
He found her in the back of her closet, combing through a rack of sweaters. "What?"
"If I'm cozying up to Ryan, what's your plan?"
Calla picked out a green turtleneck, holding it up to analyze it. "Stephanie."
"Why?"
She shot him a look. "You know why."
The queen of the school yearbook. Knower Of All Things. Yeah. I guess I do know why.
"Right." A moment of silence passed between them. "Calla?"
"Is this what having a child feels like?" she muttered from inside the closet, her back
to him.
"How long do you think that note was in Rachel's purse?"
She paused. And then she turned, pinning him with her calculating gaze. "What do
you mean?"
"Like..." He made a vague gesture with his hands. "Did someone put the note in her
purse at the dance? Or did they somehow—"
Calla frowned, halting his train of thought. "It couldn't have been sooner. She never
carries that purse around."
He sat on the edge of her bed, staring at his feet. "But the killer left that page in my
locker weeks ago. Why not leave the note in her locker? Like me. Like Jacob."
Calla said nothing. He looked up to find her staring at him, stunned.
"Calla?"
"You're right," she murmured, dropping the sweater on the bed. She surprised him
by sitting next to him, their thighs nearly touching. "s**t. You're right."
"The fact that you sound surprised is kind of insulting...but also comforting?"
"Shut up." She raked her hands through her hair.
Cooper ignored her. "So why break the pattern with Rachel? Why slip the note into
her purse, knowing she might not find it in time to...I don't know. Realize what's
coming? 'Cause that seems to be the killer's goal. To cause panic."
"Good question." Calla assessed him, eyes cold and dark. He looked away, choosing
to gaze out of her window rather than face her directly. "Maybe you're an exception.
An anomaly. That, or Rachel is."
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe Rachel's death wasn't planned," she murmured, thoughtful. "This killer.
Maybe he's got his list of victims all figured out, and Rachel was...an accident? But
that doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense."
Cooper sighed, falling back onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling. "This sucks.
Blue's Clues did not prepare me for this."
"Did you just compare tracking down a serial killer to Blue's Clues?"
"Someone had to."
Calla scoffed and stood, snatching her sweater off the bed and grabbing a pair of
jeans from her dresser. She disappeared into the bathroom, muttering under her
breath about Blue's Clues and something that sounded an awful lot like just let him
die.
Cooper propped himself onto his elbows as she came out of the bathroom, her hair
held back by a black headband. He blinked. "Where are you going?"
"Dinner. Mother gets off work in thirty minutes."
Mother. She made the word sound so...distant.
"And you didn't invite me?" He pretended to be offended.
"Sorry. Family only for birthdays."
"Oh. It's your mom's birthday?" He sat up, smoothing the uneven bedspread behind
him, making sure it was perfect. Obsessive habits die hard.
"No, you i***t. It's my birthday."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm being serious."
"Yes? So am I."
He looked at her in shock. "Wait. For real? Why is this the first time I'm hearing
about it?"
"It's just a birthday." She shrugged, collecting her wallet and phone. "No big deal."
"Oh," he said again, uncertain. What was he supposed to do? He didn't think she'd
appreciate a birthday hug.
As if reading his thoughts, she gave him a scathing look. "Don't even think about it."
He followed her out into the living room, where he shoved his shoes back on.
"You're a Christmas baby?"
"I am not a Christmas baby. Christmas isn't for another week."
"You're totally a Christmas baby," he sang, avoiding her hand as she reached out to
smack his shoulder. "Okay, okay. Whatever. I just think it's ironic that the Antichrist
was born so close to the birth of our Lord and Savior."
"Cooper?"
"Calla?"
"I'm going to kill you in your sleep if you don't get the hell out of my house."
"Do me a favor and make it quick? Smother me with a pillow. I'm
fragile."
She gave him a look and, despite his bravado, he hurried outside and slammed the
door behind him.
- Writer
