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Only she hadn’t been melodramatic, and the devastating scene in front of her had nothing to do with déjà vu. For some reason, the adage regarding old habits flashed through her mind. It was odd that she could even string together such a random thought when her brain continued to grapple with what was in front of her.
The blood was genuine.
The slaughter was real.
The sin of what had transpired in this room would forever be a stain on Brook’s soul, much like a notch on a belt.
Gone were the colorful posters on the walls, the cozy comforters on the beds, and the mismatched lamps on the two nightstands. Even the sweet aroma of green apples from Cara’s hand lotion had faded away, along with the remnants of their laughter and the memories meant to be cherished later in life. It wasn’t that the items in the room had literally vanished, but Jacob had still managed to take them away from Brook.
The only memory that she would ever have of college was of Cara lying in her own pool of blood on the floor in between their beds. Her once vibrant blonde hair was now matted with a crimson substance, and her facial features were unrecognizable. As with Sally, the gaping wound on Cara’s neck was deep.
Bile hit the back of Brook’s throat, which was the only reason that she knew the high-pitched screaming wasn’t coming from her. Brook tried her best to take a step backward and escape the sight before her, but the signals from her brain weren’t reaching her legs.
It was as if she were trapped in her own body.
Somehow, Brook managed to tear her gaze away from the gruesome remains of her roommate. It wasn’t like there had been a need for confirmation. Anyone who had been familiar with Sally Pearson’s murder would have been able to connect the dots. Jacob’s method of killing was very distinct, but he’d still chosen to leave behind a memento.
On Brook’s nightstand lay a leatherbound copy of Harry Potter. The book looked so innocuous amidst such raw horror. The edges of the pages had been tinged with gold, and its dark brown cover had been embossed with golden letters that shimmered slightly underneath the artificial light from the lamp. Yet she understood the true significance behind such a gift.
The first time that Brook had truly been afraid of her brother had been the day that she’d returned home from a friend’s house with a borrowed copy of a story about a boy wizard. She’d only been ten years old, and she’d found her brother standing in the kitchen with blood on his hands.
In that moment, Jacob hadn’t been the brother who had watched Sunday morning cartoons with her or laughed at her knock-knock jokes. The boy who had reached out to grab her arm as she’d tried to run to her room was someone else.
Somethingelse.
“…she’s sitting right here. Campus police sealed off the building. State police are pulling up now, along with an ambulance. I’ll have the paramedics look her over, but I think that…”
Brook blinked, not sure how she’d managed to get from her dorm room to the bench out in the hallway. She glanced up from her hands to find that Tessa was down the hall being comforted by one of their professors, but nothing the woman said seemed to be able to stop the young girl’s hysterics.
“…brutal. I-I don’t know how else to describe it.” The dean of the college was pacing back and forth in the hallway with a cell phone pressed against one ear and his left hand on top of his head. He had lost all color in his face, and there was a sheen to his eyes as if he’d been crying at some point. “I’m having someone reach out to her parents, but it’s obvious that Jacob Walsh tracked down his sister. Chief Conway, I think she might be in danger, and…”
Brook let out a laugh loud enough to capture Dean Wardell’s attention. He might have confused the sound with a sob, but it had startled him enough to stop talking and pacing back and forth in distress. She managed to hold out her hand. He obviously misunderstood the gesture as he came and attempted to grip her fingers in reassurance. She pulled away with irritation. She then pointed toward the phone.
“Chief, Brook would like to speak with you.” Dean Wardell knelt in front of her, unwilling to hand over his cell phone. “Brook, the paramedics should be here soon. I’m having someone contact your—”
“I heard,” Brook said after she’d cleared her throat. Her fingers were trembling as she continued to hold out her hand. “I need to speak with Chief Conway.”
Dean Wardell pressed his lips together in concern and frustration. Brook thought she might have caught a bit of anger in the lines at the corner of his eyes, and she couldn’t blame him. He’d been reluctant to admit her in the first place due to what had taken place the summer before her college admission. The only reason that he’d agreed was due to his friendship with Chief Conway.
Another hysterical sob from Tessa seemed to be reason that the dean handed over the phone. He straightened his jacket as he stood and proceeded in that direction. Two police officers had chosen that moment to rush through the double doors.
“You were wrong.” Brook hadn’t meant for her words to be so filled with bitterness. She wasn’t angry with the chief. She was disappointed with herself for believing that she could put the past behind her. “I was wrong. You and I both know that I’m not in danger. Jacob doesn’t want to kill me. My brother wants to torture me.”
“Brook, I’m already in my car. I’ll be there as soon as I—”
“He left me a gift.”
The pause on the other end of the line was enough for her to know that Chief Conway had heard her statement. She monitored the dean as he filled the two officers in on what had transpired, but it hadn’t really hit home until the man and woman were both standing in the doorway. The man turned away while pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. The woman couldn’t seem to move at all.
“Brook, Jacob has committed enough murders that we can now bring in the FBI. I’ll make the call myself. Maybe there is a chance that you and your parents could go into the witness protection program. You changed your surname, but it wasn’t like you went into hiding. Brook, your brother wants to drag you into some sort of twisted—”
“I’m not changing my name again.” Brook realized that she didn’t have long to talk. Three other people had come through the front entrance, and one of them was clearly in charge. He was wearing a black winter dress coat over his suit, and his intense gaze had landed directly on her. “I’m not going into hiding, and I’m done pretending that I can have a normal life. Jacob was right, Chief Conway. I will never be normal.”
Dean Wardell had stepped in front of the detective. The badge had given his role away when the flap of his lapel had billowed out due to his long strides. She took advantage of the reprieve to say one more thing.
“I am going to dedicate my life to finding my brother,” Brook vowed as she let her gaze travel from the two men to the doorway where the two officers stood on either side, guarding the crime scene. Cara was no longer Cara Jordan. Cara was the latest victim of Jacob Walsh. “I will spend every minute of every hour of every day hunting Jacob until he is either in jail or one of us is dead. I really don’t care which one, as long as we’re both put out of our misery.”
Chapter Two
