Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 68

And not just anyone, he thought. One of the six. Not the six anymore,

I guess.

"Quiet," Calla murmured, her voice deadly soft. Both boys settled

back into their respective positions. Vincent laid his head in Calla's

lap with a grumble and Cooper slumped. He ran a hand along his

head, tugging on his hair.

"And?" she pushed again, even more softly. "When you followed

him?"

"And..." Cooper hesitated. "And I don't know."

And I'm confused. And I'm terrified. And I have no idea what to do

next, Calla. Because I think Ryan Kane is innocent. And that doesn't—

make—sense. No matter how many times Cooper replayed what

had happened—no matter how adamantly he tried to convince

himself that he was wrong, that the killer would most likely be

clever enough to trick him into thinking otherwise—he came to that

same conclusion. Ryan had not killed anyone. Or, at the very least,

he had been forced into doing something that he absolutely did not

want to be a part of.

Cooper had followed him from the cafeteria, tracking him back to

their empty world history class. Ryan had been in a rush, stuffing

his binder into his bag, sweat gleaming on his brow. When he'd

caught Cooper staring at him from the doorway, he'd flinched and

dropped his pencil, letting fly a string of curses.

"Look. Don't tell anyone about the blow, alright?" he'd pled. "I'm in

enough trouble as is. So is Gareth."

Cooper hadn't had time to grill him for more information. Ryan had

been saved, quite literally, by the bell.

"I don't think he's our guy." He looked up then, directly at Calla.

Their eyes locked. "And I have pretty good instincts."

I was right about you, wasn't I?

She said nothing. Vincent frowned at him in the sort of way he

usually did before he punched Cooper's arm, but the hit never

came.

"We'd like to speak to Stephanie Brighton, please."

The trio startled and turned. Deputy Pendowski stood at the foot of

the bleachers, one finger hooked through his belt loop. Calla gently

moved her shoulder, waking Stephanie. The other girl blinked, her

eyes swollen from close to an hour of nonstop tears.

"Miss Brighton?" The deputy sighed. "Down here, please. We're

going to wrap this up as quickly as we can."

Reorienting herself, Stephanie hesitated and then nodded, eyes

downcast. She stood and picked her way down the bleachers,

wobbling unsteadily. Cooper watched her go, his heart heavy.

He couldn't help but think of his first day back at school after that

terrible night. Stephanie had been one of the few people to show

him kindness. And he hadn't forgotten that. She didn't deserve to

suffer over the death of a girl who had already caused her so much

pain.

They'd all suffered enough. And it was time to put an end to that

suffering.

Cooper twisted back around, ready to ask Calla a million questions

now that they were alone—did she still trust their insider intel, and

if so, what the hell was she going to do about it—but then he

stopped. She had a phone in her hands, but it wasn't her own. The

bright purple case gave it away immediately.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, glancing over to the other end of

the gymnasium, where Stephanie and Detective Michaels now sat.

She had her arms wrapped around herself, her head down. The

scene looked eerily familiar to the night he'd seen her at the

station, mascara running down her face.

"Going through Stephanie's phone," Calla said bluntly. "It fell out of

her pocket when she was sleeping."

"Huh?" Vincent sat up, looking down at the phone curiously. "Why?

What's on her phone?"