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Me: Where is Jude?
“Dude. Dude. Dude,” Crew repeats as he scoots beneath the window, pressing his back to the wall. “He’s coming closer.”
I spot a pair of scissors lying on the floor and snatch them up with my free hand. “Man the fuck up.
His eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything. Gripping the scissors tightly, I watch my phone, waiting for a response.
Whispering, Crew asks, “You think he’ll come in here?”
Before I can respond, my phone lights up with a text.
Jagger: Staring straight at the sorry motherfucker while he sips on a beer without a care in the world.
“Fuck,” I grumble under my breath.
Crew’s eyes light up, still wide in fear. “What?”
“It’s not Jude. I fucking knew someone was helping him.”
Still whispering, we converse on the matter. “Whoever it is has a sled or wheels.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” He’s not gonna like this, but I say, “You ready?”
“No. No, I’m not ready. Now put the damn scissors down. We’re not killing anyone tonight.”
Suddenly, I’m wondering who this pansy ass is sitting in front of me. Sure as hell isn’t the same guy who threw firecrackers through the headmaster's bedroom window last year.
Still crouched down, I say in a low tone, “If this asshole was an accomplice to my sister's fall, then you bet your fucking ass I’ll kill him.” I stand up, not making any attempt to hide myself. Staring straight into the headlights coming through the window, I curl my lip. “Bring it on, fucker,” I grumble under my breath.
The lights are so bright I can’t see anything beyond them. I can’t even make out what sort of ATV I’m looking at—a four-wheeler, maybe. Whoever it is, they see me.
Holding my stare, I don’t flinch a muscle. I don’t breathe. I don’t blink. I challenge him.
The next thing I know, Crew is standing beside me. “Think he’ll make a move?” he asks, joining in on the staredown with the perp.
“Nah. If he wanted to show his face, he would have done it by now. But now we know, Jude isn’t working alone.”
In an instant, the engine revs on the ride and the lights whip to the side before the guy takes off, heading down the same snow trail he came in on.
Finally, I exhale, releasing all the pent-up air in my lungs and dropping the scissors to the floor.
“Yep,” Crew says, “now we know. Let’s get back to the party. There’s nothing else to find here.”
* * *
Crew went backto the party, but I called it a night and came home. I’ve got more important shit to deal with than a bunch of drunk idiots making asses of themselves.
With a brown bag in one hand that holds a Gatorade, a ham and cheese sandwich, and an individual bag of Doritos—her favorite—I pull open the basement door and close it behind me, clicking the lock for safety measures. Taking two steps at a time, I go down.
Bypassing the gym equipment, I head straight for the door that leads to a storage room. With my master key in hand, I stick it in and unlock the door, making sure to lock it again once it’s closed.
Then I come up to the next door. So many damn doors, but each one is a necessary level of protection.
With the same key, I unlock the next door—this one leading to the tunnels. It’s a long stretch from the tunnels we use often, such as The Gathering room and Beckett’s lair beneath the cabin. I’m not even sure Crew and Jagger have entered or exited through this end, which is exactly why I knew it’d be the perfect spot.
I close the next door and walk a few feet down until I’m at the room I’ve been visiting frequently.
Unlocking the final door, I step inside the small cubic room.
