I drew in a deep breath. “I… Yeah.” A flood of images—Lennie snuggled up against Devon last night, Lennie’s head twisted at that strange angle, her ankle boot getting soaked in the freezing rain—press forward to drown me, and I shake my head against them. “Lennie was… Kate saw her first. On the ground. Under our window.” I swallow hard against the lump in my throat.
“What was she doing there?” Chessa asks, but more to herself than the rest of us.
“When Kate screamed, I heard it and looked out the window and—”
“Could we perhaps move this conversation inside?” Carter speaks up, reminding us of his presence. “Jocasta is shivering again.”
“I’m fine,” I say. But it’s hard to make that sound convincing when your teeth are chattering.
Daan clucks in concern, waving us in. “Yes, yes. Come inside.” He steps back, disappearing into the dim interior to make room for us. The entryway is small, a tiny white-tiled foyer with walls painted duck yellow and covered in framed prints of the German countryside and men in lederhosen. One stairway leads up, another, on the other side of the entryway, heads to the basement. A tiny table off to one side holds a red cup full of highlighters and markers from the last party, used in a completely pointless gesture to indicate of-age drinking status.
The movie-based gunfire is louder inside. “Emile,” Daan shouts up the stairs. “Der Mann is nicht einmal Deutscher. Er ist Osterreicher.Turn it down!” He rolls his eyes with a hint of his normal exasperation.
“Did Lennie tell you she was coming over?” Chessa asks with a frown, once the door is closed behind us. “You were asleep last night when I got back.”
I shake my head. Morales’s voice whispers in my head:she called you. Seven times early this morning.Did I have a voicemail on my phone from Lennie, telling me she was on her way over? Or texts?
Daan scrubs his hands over his face. “I should have stayed with her last night instead of going back out after I dropped her off at home. She was upset. About that strange man in the bar and—”
Devon. Fuck.
“That’s where the police should be concentrating,” Chessa interjects. Yet another reason why I need to find Devon first. I have no idea what he might say to the police.
“—you,” Daan finishes. His gaze moves past me to land on Carter.
Heat surges up my neck and into my face.Jesus, it would be nice if my love life—or lack thereof—wasn’t the absolute center of every conflict.
An awkward silence holds for several beats too long.
Then Chessa shifts to face Carter. “Thank you for picking Jo up at the police station and bringing her to us.” Her tone is polite but formal. “We’re going to my parents’ house now that she’s here. My dad is coming to get us as soon as I text him.” She nudges me. “Mom is making Belgian waffles.”
Daan gives a snort. “Such a thing does not exist,” he whispers to me. “Brussels waffle. It is a Brussels waffle.”
“And we’re going to hang out there until the police are done with…” She pauses with uncharacteristic uncertainty. “Until they let us back into Branwick,” she finishes with more confidence.Fake it till you make it.That’s always been her motto. She says it on the first day of class every semester. To me, to herself in her mirror. A surge of affection for her washes over me.
I’ve been to Chessa’s house before. Dr. Monroe and her husband are warm and welcoming; Chessa’s twin sisters are adorable and eager to have guests for their performances. Baton, puppet, karaoke, whatever. They are eight years old and not picky about their audience. It’s from them that Chessa got her nickname. They couldn’t say Francesca.
Plus, I’d get to keep an eye on Chessa and Daan, hopefully long enough to convince that extra-paranoid part of myself thatthey aren’t in danger. Not as long as I am there to protect them. The thought of it makes the tension in my shoulders ease.
Going to the Monroe house today would be a welcome respite, like pulling the covers up over my head and pretending the outside world doesn’t exist.
Except… that’sexactlywhat it would be like.
Hiding. Pretending the monster on the other side of the blankets doesn’t exist. And yes, while I’d be able to protect Chessa and Daan and—oh, God, the Monroes—with my presence for now, that would also mean I wouldn’t be doing a damn thing to stop them from being in danger in the first place.
Not to mention every other person on this campus that someone has decided I’m responsible for.
In fact, going over there might actually put the Monroes in more danger, depending on how closely I’m being observed by whoever the fuck this is. I can’t take that risk.
Damnit.I need to find him. Or her. Or them. And stop them. Before anyone else gets hurt. I certainly can’t count on the police to do it. They have no idea what they’re dealing with.
I look over to find Carter watching me steadily, waiting, it seems, for my answer rather than following Chessa’s directive. That makes my heart squeeze with… not love, I don’t know what it is, but something.
“I think I should stay on campus,” I say, bracing myself.
Chessa’s mouth falls open in surprise before she catches herself. “Why in God’s name would you do that?”
“I don’t want to look like I’m trying to run from the police,” I point out.
