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Maybe I should break my rules just this once. No one will truly miss that asshole. Valerie will pout for a second, then hopefully move on to someone who won’t drive me to commit murder.
“Eric! You came.” Carol Warner, Hansen’s younger sister, beams at me.
Blonde, like her brother, and sweet to a degree that makes me wanna poke my eyes out, she’s the last person I want to entertain. Mainly because she’d probably be the only one at this party who would truly mourn Hansen—and that reminds me why I have a cardinal rule.
“Hey,” I say, showing the enthusiasm of a corpse watching paint dry.
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Why is that? I was invited.”
She turns beet red. “I’ve never seen you at a party before.”
Bobby throws his beefy arm around my shoulder. “Eric isn’t exactly a social butterfly. But he’s mean as fuck on the ice, so we forgive him for not partying hard.”
“Do you want a drink?” Carol asks me.
“I don’t drink.”
Her eyes widen. “Never?”
“It’s poison.”
Tired of this conversation, I look over her head, trying to find Valerie in the crowd. I don’t see her or jerkface anywhere in the living room. The house is decorated within an inch of its life with Christmas shit, and the Christmas tree in the corner might be taller than ours. If Mom finds out, she’ll have a cow.
There’s a group of people gathered around the dining room table doing shots—of what, I don’t know. Everyone is trashed, and that grates on my nerves. Being surrounded by morons who are drunk or high is annoying as fuck when you’re sober. But I don’t care about joining the mindless mob. I get my thrills in a different way.
The music playing in the background becomes louder, and the song’s a crowd-pleaser because cheers erupt all around me. I don’t know the artist but thank fuck it isn’t a Christmas song.
“Do you wanna da—” Carol starts.
“I need fresh air.” I stride away from her and Bobby, getting lost in the thick of the party before I reach the back door and exit the house.
There are more people outside, hanging around a firepit. The smell of weed reaches my nose, and I spot several guys from the hockey team clustered together and passing around a joint.
One of them sees me and waves. “Yo, Eric. Join the fun, dude.”
I turn around and walk away, but I still hear him say, “Weirdo.”
A grin splits my face. He has no idea. It amuses me that these idiots are clueless about how much pain I could inflict on them. They’re lucky I have a code.
I stick my hands in my jacket pockets and look for Valerie. Hansen’s backyard borders the forest, but I doubt they went that way. It’s too fucking cold. Only a psycho would draw a victim into the woods on a night like this. And Valerie isn’t stupid. She’d never be lured. I glance at the crowd wistfully and sigh. I really need to find the time to make my selection.
I return to the house and decide to check the second floor. Maybe that should have been the first place I looked. I reach inside my pocket and curl my fingers around the switchblade I always carry. It isn’t my weapon of choice, but it’ll do in a pinch.
Jesus, Eric. You can’t fillet Hansen just because Valerie might be screwing him.
Well, Icould, but I’d never be dumb enough to do it in a house full of people. Too many witnesses tying me to the murder scene. Plus, Valerie would see the whole thing. I couldn’t bring myself to kill her too. This isn’t a slasher movie, and I don’t plan on getting arrested… ever.
I let go of the switchblade before I start opening doors. One of the rooms is occupied, but I don’t recognize the couple. They’re so busy fucking they don’t even notice me. I leave the door open just for kicks.
All the other rooms I open are empty, including the one that can only belong to Hansen. Where the hell are they?
three
Eric
It’s past midnight when I finally hear Valerie stomp up the stairs and bang her bedroom door shut. Mom and Keith are still at the mayor’s Christmas party.
