Kill You Last (11 page)

MOM WAS SITTING on the couch. Dad was in an easy chair on the other side of the coffee table. As I closed the door behind me, he lowered a copy of the newspaper. I imagined their sitting in complete silence with Dad reading the paper while they waited for me.

“I called Roman’s house,” Mom began.

“I know,” I said. “She told me.”

“So…?”

“I…was with a guy.”

From the surprise on their faces, I knew immediately that my answer had worked.

“Really?” Dad’s eyebrows rose with interest. “Someone from school?”

“He goes to Sarah Lawrence,” I said.

Mom’s eyebrows dipped uncertainly. “How did you meet him?”

“The day I went for my interview.”

“No kidding?” Dad seemed happy for me.
How could this be the same man who stole from all those girls?
I wondered.

It wasn’t in my nature to spin lies, but I knew that Mom would want to know more. “I asked him for directions…and he offered to show me the way and we started to talk.”

“Like an instant attraction?” Dad smiled brightly. Despite all the horrible things going on in his life, you could see that he still got a kick out of hearing how his daughter met a guy.

“Was this the first time you’ve seen him since then?” Mom asked.

“Oh no, I…we’ve seen each other a couple of times and talked a lot on the phone.” It was interesting how, except for the part about asking for directions, almost every answer I’d given had basically been true, and how easily the true answers had fit the questions.

But then Mom said, “And suddenly tonight you just
had
to see him?”

I felt my insides tighten. How would I answer
that?

“Oh, come on, Ruth,” Dad said. “It’s young love. It’s passionate and impatient and impetuous.”

Mom’s eyes remained fixed on me as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

“Do we get to meet him?” Dad asked.

“Uh…” I hesitated. Ironically, it was Dad who’d innocently asked the question that was hardest to answer. “Maybe someday. I mean, we’re not there yet, you know?”

Dad nodded and smiled. Mom just gazed silently at me as if trying to see through to the truth.

“Well, then, all right.” Dad stood up as if the matter had been settled. “I think we’ve gotten to the bottom of that. When you’re ready, Shels, I’d like to meet him.” He gave Mom a terse nod and left the living room.

Mom remained on the couch, waiting, it seemed to me, until Dad was out of earshot. Then, in a low voice, she said, “I read an interesting article once. It said that everyone believes that liars aren’t able to look you in the eye, so some liars go out of their way to look you in the eye to make you think they’re telling the truth.”

I kept my eyes on hers. Mom studied me silently. “You must stay out of this, Shelby. It’s dangerous. The girl they found in that cave near Scranton didn’t wind up there by accident. I know you want to protect your father, but you can’t do that without putting yourself at risk.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t meet her gaze anymore and stared down at the floor.

“Tell me you’ll stay out of it,” Mom said.

“I…will.”

“Promise me?” she said, getting up and coming toward me.

I looked up. “I said I will.”

Mom kissed me on the forehead, then nodded as if to say I could go. I went upstairs and slumped down in front of my computer. The memory of how I’d left things with Roman returned. I’d been unreasonably mistrustful and must have hurt her feelings. I was wondering if I should call and apologize when a text showed up… from Gabriel:
Thx 4 inviting me 2 the party. W2 meet again? 121?

That caught me by surprise. I could only assume that the quick kiss I’d given him after the party, before we’d parted, had smoothed out the earlier rough spots. It was flattering to think that he still liked me, but then I thought about the warnings both Whit and Roman had given me about him. I was wondering about how to answer him when an e-mail popped up from [email protected]:
I like you, Shelby Sloan. If I have to kill you, I’ll kill you last.

I ALMOST CRIED out. My hands gripped the edge of the desk, and my heart thudded heavily in my chest as I stared at the ominous words, reading them over and over.

Someone was actually threatening to kill me.

It took a while to begin to calm down and breathe normally again.
They’re just words,
I told myself.
It could even be someone playing a sick joke. Besides, as long as I’m in my house, in my room, I’m safe.

I began to think about what the words meant. The person who sent the e-mail said he liked me. Could it really be someone I knew
that
well?

And what did “If I have to kill you” mean? Why would anyone
have
to kill me? It didn’t make sense…unless it was a warning.…That he would have to kill me if I didn’t stop looking into my father’s situation …

But why send the e-mail now? Why hadn’t he sent it a few days ago? And didn’t it imply that I was onto something? Clearly whoever sent it did so because he was feeling threatened by me.

So who knew that I was looking into Dad’s case? Whit and Roman…and the person who’d hit Whit on the head tonight.

I felt frightened, but also, strangely, encouraged. I must have been getting closer to the answer. But now what? The thought of telling my parents came and quickly passed. Telling Dad about the e-mail would make him freak out, and telling Mom would only confirm what she’d just finished saying in the living room—that if I continued to snoop around, I was in danger of becoming a target myself. It would become a great big “I told you so” moment for her and would probably result in my being completely grounded.

So forget that.

Besides, there had to be ways to proceed carefully. From now on when I went out at night, I would make sure to be with someone. And if I needed to investigate something, I would ask Whit along.

Whit
…It was interesting how useful he’d become, both in my “investigation” and as an alibi. Why did I feel I could trust him when it felt so hard to trust anyone else? Didn’t he have the most to gain from ingratiating himself to me? How did I know for sure that he wasn’t using me? Pretending to be my friend and searching for
the truth
until he got the really
big
story? The one that would guarantee him the job in journalism that he so dearly wanted? Since when had I become such a great judge of character that I knew everyone’s motives?

And, if he was using me to get that story, wasn’t it possible that
he’d
sent that threatening e-mail? What better way to ensure that I’d keep him involved in the investigation than to make me feel like I needed him for protection?

But if I couldn’t trust him, then who could I trust?

Or, had I reached the point…where I couldn’t trust anyone?

I made sure the windows in my room were locked. Then I locked my door and wedged a chair under the doorknob. And still lay awake in the dark for a long time.

They reported on TV the next morning that the body found in the cave near Scranton had been positively identified as Rebecca Parlin. The report said that it would still be some time before the police would be able to pinpoint the cause of death.

I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was still a blow. Yet another step closer to a horrible ending.

And now there was school, which I wasn’t looking forward to attending. Not only because all those kids would once again be staring, as if they thought Dad was the murderer, but because I’d have to face Roman, knowing that we’d argued and that I’d implied that I was no longer sure I could trust her.

I decided to get to lunch early. That way when Roman got to the cafeteria, I’d already be at our regular table and it would be up to
her
to decide whether to sit with me. As soon as the bell rang, I was out of my seat and racing toward the cafeteria. Usually the only ones who hurried to lunch were hungry guys, and luckily I found myself behind Dave Curlin, a football player who charged through the crowded hallway as if trying to score a touchdown.

In the cafeteria, I was relieved to see that Roman’s and my table was empty. But as I headed toward it, I became aware that someone else was also getting closer. It was Roman, hurrying in from the other side of the cafeteria. We reached the table at the same time and stood across from each other, each knowing exactly why the other had been in a rush.

Then we both sat.

Roman was the first to speak: “See the news this morning?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No surprise, I guess.”

“Uh-huh.” I made no effort to hide my reluctance to talk.

Roman studied me. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I still don’t understand how you could have known where I was last night.”

“I told you, it was just a lucky guess,” she insisted.

It was obvious that no matter how many times I asked, she was going to give the same answer.

“So…when did you and Whit get together?” she asked.

I felt myself relax a little. We were back in familiar territory—talking about guys. Of course, I couldn’t tell her the news about Janet/Jane’s identity theft and criminal record, but I could be vague. “I guess we’re both interested in the same thing.”

“So you’ve gotten him to help you try to figure out what’s going on?” Roman shot me a knowing smile. “Or is that just the excuse you’re using to spend time with him?”

“He’s not my type.”

“What’s wrong with big and blond?”

“Did you see his nose?”

Roman shook her head. “It was dark. Why? Something wrong with it?”

“It’s crooked. Like that actor’s? I can’t remember if he said how he broke it.”

“I thought things like that give you character,” she said.

Whit had character, but I wasn’t sure it had anything to do with his nose. Personality-wise, he seemed like a solid, dependable, serious guy. But physically, he was big, ponderous, and, though gentle, also clumsy. Sexy, he wasn’t.

“He reminds me of Lennie in
Of Mice and Men
,” I said. “I mean, not the dumb part; he’s actually really smart. But there’s something about him that just doesn’t work for me.”

As we started to eat, Tara Kraus and her posse entered the cafeteria. And there was Ashley. In all the drama of the night before—Whit being hit on the head, Roman showing up at the studio, the life-threatening e-mail from vengeance—I’d forgotten what I’d discovered in the cabinet in Dad’s studio.

“Be right back.” As I started across the lunchroom, Tara and a few others turned to look, but Ashley didn’t. Still, I could tell that she’d seen me out of the corner of her eye because her stride stiffened and she stared straight ahead.

In the middle of the cafeteria, surrounded by tables filled with chattering kids, Tara stopped to face me. If she’d been a porcupine, her bristles would have been in full bloom. The girls around her glowered, but Ashley seemed to shrink down behind them.

“Ashley,” I said.

“What do you want?” Tara’s nostrils flared. I wondered if she’d start snorting and pawing the floor next.

I ignored her and looked directly at Ashley. “Can we talk?”

An anxious scowl crossed my old friend’s face. “Why?”

“I have to ask you something…in private.”

“You don’t have to talk to her,” Tara said.

Ashley’s eyes darted at Tara, then back at me. She tilted her head at the windows, as if we should go over there.

“Want me to come?” Tara asked.

Ashley shook her head.

We walked toward the windows. Outside, orange and white koi glided gracefully through the dark water of the small pond the PTO had built in the center of the courtyard. Ashley bit the corner of her lip.

“I didn’t know you’d signed up with my dad’s agency,” I said.

She nodded and let her breath out in a way that made me think that wasn’t what she’d expected me to say.

“I guess I was surprised because we used to be friends and we still see each other almost every day at school,” I said.

She gave me a quick glance. “So I was supposed to tell you?”

In a way, she was right. It wasn’t mandatory for me to know.

There wasn’t a rule. It just felt strange. “Did anything ever happen?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Did he get you any modeling jobs?”

Her brow dipped with consternation. “If I’d gotten modeling jobs, you think I’d still be working at Playland?”

She was right. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid question. But did he at least send you to some tryouts?”

“A few, but nothing ever came out of them.”

Her answer was enough to make me feel relieved. So at least as far as Ashley was concerned, it hadn’t been a scam. Dad had tried to get her some work.

Ashley crossed her arms tightly and glanced back at the lunch line, as if she was eager to go. “That’s all you wanted to know?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, okay, great. See ya.” She started back across the cafeteria.

As I watched her go, I thought about her last question.
Was that all I wanted to know?

That’s when I realized I’d asked the wrong questions.

I WAS IN the library last period when I got a text from Gabriel:
C my txt last nite?

I’d totally forgotten. The previous night, his text had come just a moment before the e-mail threatening to kill me. No wonder I’d lost track. Now I texted back:
Yes. Sorry. TTLY distracted.

Gabriel:
C U After schl?

Once again the memory of the party came back. How frustrated he’d gotten when I hadn’t been willing to go somewhere alone with him. And how I’d felt bad about misleading him and had given him that kiss.

Roman and Whit had both warned me that he might be dangerous. But they’d never spent any real time with him. While he did seem narcissistic and lacking in empathy, he didn’t strike me as particularly threatening. Besides, it wasn’t like I could invite either of them along if I agreed to meet him.

And there was still a chance he might know something that would help me prove Dad’s innocence. So I texted:
OK.

He wrote:
PUUP?

No
, I thought. I might not have believed he was dangerous, but I’d told myself not to take any chances with anyone, and that included getting in his car or going anywhere alone with him.

I wrote:
Meet SMWHR?

He wrote:
WHR?

It was nice out, so I suggested the park near the Sound. On a day like today, it would be filled with people.

We agreed to meet at the wooden gazebo on the rocks by the water’s edge. When I got there, Gabriel was sitting on a bench.

He gave me a friendly smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess.” I sat down beside him. The sun warmed my face. Its rays glinted off the water. Sailboats rocked at their moorings. “I mean, not great. You heard the news about that girl this morning, right?”

Gabriel nodded. “Terrible.”

I was relieved to hear him say that. Maybe he wasn’t so self-absorbed after all. Maybe all that glancing at his reflection was just insecurity. You had to give people the benefit of the doubt. Especially when they were as gorgeous as Gabriel.

“It’s hard to believe,” he went on. “These girls signed with us, and now they’re turning up dead?”

“Just one,” I reminded him.

He slid his eyes at me, as if to ask if I really believed the other two girls hadn’t met the same fate.

“I know,” I admitted. “You have to think that whatever happened to her happened to the others. I’m just praying I’m wrong.”

“And maybe it’s still all some kind of incredibly weird coincidence,” he said. “Like maybe it has nothing to do with their being your dad’s clients. Maybe there’s something else that links those girls that no one’s even thought of yet. The problem is, nobody knows. And nobody’s
going
to know until they know, you know?”

I felt a slight and unexpected smile grow on my lips.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing. I completely agree. It’s just all those
knows
, you know?”

He shot me a self-deprecating grin and said sheepishly, “Welcome to my huge fifty-word vocabulary.”

I chuckled, once again glad he’d asked me to meet him. It was a relief to see his charming side.

A seagull landed on the rocks and cocked its head as it studied us with one eye.

“Take a walk?” Gabriel suggested.

“Sure.”

We started on a path along the shore. Ahead was a low brick structure—the bathhouse of the small beach club for town residents open from Memorial Day to Labor Day. Now that the season was over, town workers were preparing it for the winter. From the cans and drop cloths piled near the entrance, it appeared that they were giving the inside a fresh coat of paint.

Gabriel craned his neck through the open front doorway. “What’s in there?”

“Lockers and changing rooms families rent over the summer.”

“I want to see.” He took my hand and led me inside. My hand in his felt very natural, as if he needed my assurance while he explored this new place. But at the same time, like anyone else in my position, I was acutely aware of the possibilities. Would he try to kiss me next? Did I want him to?

We walked down a corridor bordered by freshly painted lockers, the smell of drying paint in our noses. Just as we passed the ladies’ room, I felt Gabriel’s hand tighten. He stopped and turned me toward him, pulling me close.

We were alone.

I felt his arms go around me.

I closed my eyes.