Jaded (Jaded 1)

Bryce's arm tightened around me and he shifted, just slightly, so that Chantal needed to step back unless she wanted to be in my face instead. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes. Chantal registered the movement and masked her irritation quickly, but everyone else seemed to be oblivious.

Another lull settled over our group when I looked up and realized that their eyes were on us, on Bryce, myself, and Corrigan.

In that moment, I remembered with a chill what the second note had read.

Queen of Geneva disregarded her lowly subjects. To the grave they went and more to come.

In that moment, I realized—more than at any other time—I held the crown and reigned with Bryce and Corrigan at my elbow.

Mandy spoke up, and it took a moment before I realized that she addressed me, "So what now?"

"What?" I bristled, irritated at the sudden proclamation of my power. I felt the full force in that moment and I knew that I didn't want it. I didn't want any of it. I wanted Bryce. I wanted Corrigan. And I wanted to be left alone.

That's all I wanted.

And I wanted Leisha's murderer to fry.

Bryce spoke up for me, "If no one's told us what to do, we should all just leave. Go to the Diner or something."

"Or go and get drunk," Corrigan commented, no joke.

"That too." Bryce faintly grinned at him.

Evans spoke up, "Ya'll can come over to my place. My parents aren't getting back from their trip until tomorrow. We could have one more todo dia festival."

Becky grinned ruefully, "Two girls are dead and we're going to party?"

"Do you really care? You didn't even know them," Harris threw back at her.

Becky shrugged, uncomfortable, as she glanced over her shoulder to Carlos, their hands had been entwined, but they broke free at that moment.

What the hell?

"Yeah, well, we care," Corrigan said sharply. "So show some respect."

Harris straightened abruptly and fell silent. He looked away.

Becky sobered instantly.

"But…" Corrigan heaved a sigh. "Bryce is right. There's nothing that we can do and it's not like we're going to have school. I'm not going to some mandatory peace talk and listen to the sheriff talk about buddy systems."

Chet asked, "So what?"

"I don't know. Go to the Diner." Corrigan shrugged and pulled me from Bryce. He started walking back towards the parking lot and Bryce followed.

It was an odd moment and an odd feeling.

As we crossed the separation again, I noticed that too many watched as we left. Pensive, desperation, hysteria, somber, and bitterness filled so many of their eyes as they watched us walk across and get into Bryce's car.

I'd never noticed the apparent social isolation before, not during a crowded hallway as students buzzed from locker to locker, but in that moment…I saw it all too clear and I realized what had been invisible became visible. And another chill upon so many slammed over me. The social hierarchy may have reared its ugly head to create a deadly monster.

Chapter 24

Everyone else was told to go to the Diner, but our crew went to my home. We hadn't been there long when the doorbell rang. I waited, my breath suspended, but I wasn't sure why. I hadn't had much luck with people coming over to my home lately.

Sighing, I opened the door, grateful as the rest stayed in the kitchen when I found myself face to face with Officer Sheila. She was alone, no hatred-spewing partner.

"Hi," I said tightly as Sheila nodded, gravely.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

I nodded and shut the door behind as I moved outside.

Sheila lounged on the porch railing as I sat in one of the wicker chairs. "Quite a morning, huh?"

I just waited. She was here for a reason and I knew it.

Sheila took a deep breath and told me, flat, "He left another note for you. This time, we got it first without your friends' prints all over it."

I readied myself.

Sheila added, promptly, "And it's got your boy's prints on it."

"My boy? I have a lot of boys."

"Not the boyfriend. The sidekick."

I laughed and shook my head, "Corrigan would never call himself a sidekick. You're lucky he didn't hear you or you'd probably come home to a trashed garage or something."

"He gets like that, huh? He's got a temper?"

I bared my teeth, "You know he does because of his history. Yes, Corrigan can do some stupid crap, but there's no way you're going to tell me that he's the psycho stalker."

"Funny," Sheila remarked, emotionless. "I never said that at all. You did."

"It was implied and I'm not hearing any more of it."

"What if he is?" she pressed, heartless. "What if your boy in there is the monster who's killed two girls? Miss Summers was raped. Miss Umbridge was not. Maybe your boy had already been appeased. He's got his fair share of girls, doesn't he? Makes you wonder—why Leisha Summers? Why rape her and not her friend?"

"Corrigan couldn't have done anything that night. He was with Bryce."

"Are you sure? They left the party, didn't they? Are you sure Corrigan was with his buddy the entire time? He could've disappeared for a few moments. It doesn't take long to bash a girl in, move her body, and rape her." She paused. "And he wasn't with you last night."

"He was with Logan, his girlfriend."

"Was he? He didn't arrive with her this morning, did he?"

The arrow found its target. And I had had enough as I lashed back, "You've got two girls that are dead now, three notes, and you've got nothing if you're going after my friend. Some loser did this who wants to think they're high and mighty. Even I can get that and I'm not especially smart about this cold blooded—"

"I think you're incredibly smart and I think you know exactly what kind of person would do something like this. I've been questioning students. You've got the rep for being cold blooded and it makes me wonder—the three of you are real tight. You're sleeping with Scout. Maybe Raimler wants in on that action. Maybe you want him in on that action. Maybe this whole thing was a set-up and all three of you are in on it? Are you?"

"For your information," I said quietly, lethal. "If I wanted to sleep with Corrigan, I would've by now. I'm sure you also got that information from your 'questioning.' I do what I want and when I want. I don't exactly bend to rules. And I will tell you for the last time, Corrigan had nothing to do with this and none of us are in on this sick perverse game."

"But you are quite sick and perverse, aren't you?" Sheila raided my space. "You taunt other students. You taunt teachers. You skip whenever you want. You screw your boyfriend while you're screwing your neighbor. Tell me this, ever done a threesome? How about with your top dogs in there? They're both good looking. The best 'specimens' in school, as one girl told me. A girl with your morals, I'd be surprised if you hadn't."

The wall slammed back in place and I moved away, with ice in my veins and coldness shining from my eyes, "You can think all you want."

"I'm the police, honey. I can make your life hell."

"You have no right and no reason."

"I've got a note with your buddy's prints and I've got the subject that the note's addressed to protecting said suspect. I've got enough for a good solid theory."

Bait. Throw the line. Wait. And let the fish get caught before reeling them in. It's how I played the game and I'd just played hers. Enough was enough and I asked, "The notes addressed to me? I'd like to see it. It's mine, isn't it?"

"It's evidence and therefore ours, but I made a copy for you."

"Can I have it?"

Her hands were empty.

"I don't have it here. If you want it, you gotta come to the station to get it." Sheila smiled brightly and falsely. "Have a good day, Sheldon."

"You switched roles? Thought maybe you'd try your hand at being the 'bad' cop instead of the 'good' cop?" I taunted.

Sheila sighed abruptly and threw back, impatient, "No, Sheldon! This isn't a goddamn

game. This is real and more girls are going to die. You were friends with both of them and all four notes are addressed to you. This bastard is obsessed with you and those two guys in there are in love with you. Maybe one of them is platonic, but what if he's not? I find it pretty suspect that a girl like you, who looks like you, and screws like you would make it easy for a guy to purely feel 'friendly-only' with you. I'm a cop, Sheldon. I see the lowest of the low and people can be like that."

I held firm and taunted, coldly, "What a compliment. A girl that 'looks like you, screws like you.' If that isn't painting it pretty, then I don't know what is."

Sheila snorted shrewdly, "Please. You might've deserved to have some parenting, but you've gone past where you should be. You should be a nice little girl who goes to school, worries about getting good grades, and holds hand with her nice popular boyfriend. That's not you and some pretty rotten things must've happened to put you were you are."