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“Night, Allie,” I shout back.
“Night, Willow,” she giggles, shutting the door to her room behind her.
I slam the door behind us and move over to the DVD player, making sure it’s set up. Mum was messing with it Monday morning after I woke up from a nightmare. When I find it’s all set up, I smile wide, turning back to Cole.
“How are you feeling after meeting Becca and Rosie?” Cole asks as we settle down on the bed together. We work around each other so easily it’s almost scary. It’s like we’ve known each other for years. Not even Allie and I are this in sync with each other and we’ve known each other our whole lives.
“Okay, I guess. I just wish there was something more I could do for them both. I feel so helpless. All those years I stood by his side, not having the slightest clue about who he really was. People probably saw us together and wondered what kind of a person I was to hang around with such a monster. You should have seen what they did to her,” I whisper, my stomach turning at the images flashing through my mind of Rosie.
“I don’t think people will see it like that, Low. How could you have known? He was so good at hiding who he really is. He had everyone fooled, not just you. Look at how many women fell for his act. It wasn’t because they were weak-minded, it’s because he’s really fucking good at manipulating those around him. The amount of times he’s been let off proves that. He’s a compulsive liar and knows exactly what to do and what to say to make things go his way,” Cole explains, and I ease back onto the pillow, absorbing everything he’s said.
My mind wanders back to all the times Logan and I would hang out. I can’t help but overanalyse every little detail of our time spent together. Everything he ever said, every move he made, I question, but it doesn’t matter how many times I run it all through my mind, nothing incriminates him. Sometimes I wonder if my mind is just trying to find something, anything, so I can justify why I didn’t pick up on his behaviour sooner. I can’t help but wonder why I never pushed Allie more on why she didn’t like him. It’s like somewhere deep down inside me, I knew it was bad and I chose to not want to know, to ignore it.
And what kind of person does that make me?
“I guess so,” I murmur after a while, playing with the ends of my hair.
Deep down, I know Cole is right. Logan is a master at what he does. It worries me just how good he is. If he can hide it from me and most of the people around him for all this time, then what is stopping him from spinning some other story to the police about what happened with me and his other victims? It sickens me to know there is a chance he could get away with this.
However, if this blog can help us find more victims then maybe we can find a link, a way of finding out how he chooses the girls he attacks.
Rosie mentioned earlier that it was a game and that they slept with certain types of girls to get higher points. They can’t just pick girls at random. They must do their homework. For some reason, I can’t see Logan being so careless to pick willy nilly. Granted, he’s cocky and thinks he’s untouchable, but something tells me they prowl all over for their pick of girls.
If we can somehow find that out, then we can intervene before they hurt anyone else.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Cole asks, nudging my shoulder.
“I think I have an idea…” I tell him as I sit up straighter in bed. “Rosie said all of this was a game to them. It’s got me thinking, if we can somehow find out how they pick their girls, then we can intervene before they get a chance to hurt anyone else,” I tell him. My mind begins running over so many other possibilities that another thought suddenly occurs to me. “What do you do when you’re keeping score? You keep a tally, a chart. They must have some record, some chart that says who is in the lead, who they attacked, that can prove that they’re guilty.”
I can’t stop thinking about it. It makes sense. I’m kicking myself for not thinking of this sooner. We want to get proof and what better proof is there than a record of what they’re doing?
“You think they’ll keep proof?” Cole asks, sounding disgusted and mildly curious, like it could actually be a possibility.
I nod furiously. “Yes! Yes, I do. I think I might know where Logan will hide something as important and secretive as that too. He has this marble antique chest that his grandfather gave him before he died. There are gems imbedded into the stone,” I tell him, trying to remember what colours they were, and which one opened it.
“How do you know it will be in there?” he asks whilst grabbing the remote and pausing the DVD so he can pay closer attention.
“It has to be,” I tell him fiercely. “When we were kids, he would hide everything in there. His dad’s alcohol, letters, his granddad’s watch, everything. The gems open it. We can finally put him away,” I tell him, feeling my eyes begin to water.
“There’s no way he’s going to have it lying around for anyone to stumble across, Low,” he tells me gently, taking my hand in his. I don’t protest. I love the feel of his warm hand wrapped around mine.
“No, he won’t. If he has another party over at his place though, we could snatch it up then. He’ll be too distracted with guests to even notice.”
“Yeah, because you turning up at his place won’t raise any flags. He’ll know straight off the bat that something is up. He’ll be on high alert,” he tells me, and he’s right. He will be. We will need to be smart about it. All I can think about is revenge, and I don’t want it clouding my judgement or risking what we’re doing.
“Then we give him a dose of his own medicine,” I tell him, taking a huge gulp.
His head whips to mine, his eyes holding a large amount of intrigue and suspicion. He’s obviously wondering how far I’m willing to go with this.
“What are we talking about?” he asks, not seeming to dismiss my idea at all.
“We drug him with the same drug he drugged us with. We just need someone to go in undercover and make sure he and Jamie get what’s coming to them. No one else is going to be suspicious of us being there.”
“Yeah, but who is going to drug them? They know you and Allie and they hate me and CJ just as much as we hate them,” he tells me.
I sigh, my shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. Allie and I don’t know anyone here yet. It needs to be a girl, though.”
A knock on my door interrupts us. “Come in,” I shout out.
