“So,
you
driving
to the city?” Lindsey asked, brushing her short dark hair behind
her ear.
“Oh. Uhm. Yeah. It’s not
far. I like the drive, especially in the fall.”
“Cool. Driving into
Crimson Cove is nicer than leaving though.”
“Yeah.” She finally handed
Lindsey her drink. It was steaming so much from the overheating the milk took
that I was sure it was burning her hand through the sleeve. “I guess I’ll see
ya around.” Loss and regret filled the beautiful girl’s eyes.
Lindsey smiled wide.
“Yeah, I mean, in the city maybe.”
I cocked an eyebrow,
wondering if they meant New York and what the chances were of actually running
into each other.
“I mean, maybe I’ll see
ya at a coffeehouse.” Lindsey laughed, making even less sense. “If you work at
one.”
It was just getting more
and more uncomfortable, even for me.
“Right. Take care. And if
you are walking by coffee shops look in and see if I’m there.” Coffee Shop
Girl’s voice trailed off as she realized what she was saying, “’Cause I have to
have a job to pay for school.”
“Right.” Lindsey nodded
eagerly. The rambling and senselessness was aggressive.
They stared at each other
for a full minute before Coffee Shop Girl turned and smiled at me. “Nice
meeting you.”
“You too.” I started
backing up, hoping they wouldn't get their awkward on me and waved, confused by
the whole thing. Especially considering I hadn’t met her, not formally.
Lindsey paused and then
waved and walked to the door with me. Her face was the color of the trees
outside.
We took our drinks and
walked out to the cars. “So, what was that?” I gave her a side-glance and a
grin.
“Nothing.”
“Didn't look like
nothing. Looked like you were crushing hard there. Was that what Sage was
talking about when you guys got into the fight?”
“What?”
“Emo Coffeehouse Whore?”
“No.” Lindsey sighed and
squeezed her eyes shut. “It wasn't like that.”
“Okay.”
She stopped and nodded,
with her eyes closed and her face pinched. “It was totally like that. I thought
maybe and then I knew no. But I still sort of think she’s pretty, and I wonder
if she thinks something or if it’s all nothing.” She opened her eyes. “Does
that even make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense.
I know what you mean.”
“Like how you love Ash?”
Her mocking face became something of confusion. “Is that Vince?”
I followed her eyes to
the silver car next to us. “Did you invite him too? I thought he was with his
dad.”
“No, I didn't invite him.
He must be stalking my cell phone again.” She said it like she was annoyed but
not angry. Being stalked was becoming old hat for her. But there was no
fighting the look on my face. The way he watched her so intensely and the
stalking would have been hard for me to endure.
“Ladies.” He climbed out,
pulling off his sunglasses and grinning. The sunlight glinted off his handsome
face, taking away the wickedness I knew lurked in him. It always vanished when
he saw her. His look explained the stalking. He was always relieved to see
her—maybe relieved she was unscathed. His affection for her changed the
way he looked, maybe even acted.
Without her, he would
have always been skeezy Vincent Banks, king of the nasty and disgraceful.
But when he was with her
all the low-life nonsense washed away, and I saw what she saw. He lost the
Banks in him and became just a regular guy.
“Miss me?” He cracked
more of a Vincent grin. He was cleaned up from the surfer bum he had been all
summer. Now he was polished and shaved with his hair cut and styled and his
shoes so shiny his grin could be seen in them for miles.
“No,” she teased back.
“Liar.” He strolled over,
taking her latte and sipping it, his eyes darting to mine. “Hello, Lainey.”
“Vince.”
She narrowed her gaze,
watching him drink her coffee. “Fine, I’ll go get another one.”
His grin was back
instantly. “I prefer cappuccinos to lattes.”
She scratched her nose
with her middle finger and walked back inside, leaving us alone.
“What were you doing for
your dad?”
His eyes drew down on
mine. “What?” He didn't understand the question.
“Linds said you weren’t
coming for coffee because you were doing something for your dad.”
“Not so much for him but
to him.” He paused, making me think he might lie, but he didn't. “I was trying
to get into his vault.”
“No luck?” I didn't need
to ask. I knew the answer.
“None. We have the key
but not the code. It’s getting boring actually.”
“What did you figure out
about the cleaner? Linds said that our dads all know him. What did he do for
them?”
He swallowed hard,
licking his lips and chuckling softly. “I don't know.” That was an obvious lie.
“You’re lying.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
Dear God, what did they do?
“Because,”—he took
another big drink from the latte—“the less you know, the better. We
already have things to worry about. The first being,
who
the killer is. And will Crimson Cove Inc. be able to sell that last group of
lots now that the real estate here has tanked a bit? Will your dad and
Lindsey’s get into shit for leaving death threats on a dead man’s cell phone?”
I flinched. “Don't tell
anyone that.”
“I won’t. But trust
me, that
old stuff has nothing to do with this. Believe me
when I say, those old secrets are buried so deep they don't stand a chance at
ever walking around again.”
“That sounds like a
famous line from a horror movie where the bad guys always come back and the
buried secrets rise from the grave.”
His face lost the humor
it had only moments before. “These secrets won’t ever come back. Whatever and
whoever this is, it’s something else. It’s not tied to Crimson Cove as much as
it is the residents. I think someone brought it here.”
“You think it’s tied to
Rachel then?”
“Don't you?”
“I don't know. The person
who tried to drug Linds and me was wearing exactly what Sierra had been
wearing. So clearly someone was stalking or watching Sierra. Then someone did
stalk Linds in her own yard. We all got the white roses for the funeral. Yes,
it all started with Rachel, but we are all being dragged into it. We’re the
ones possibly being framed for murder.” I looked down. “You saw the photo of
all of us around Rachel and Sage. It looks bad.”
“Is it possible Rachel
brought this down on us?”
“Anything is possible.” I
winced. “Except Ashton, he’s innocent. I know that.”
“I agree. Total subject
change. Now that it’s just you and me and these filthy hippies here, I have to
say that I think it’s comical everyone thinks it’s Jake you’re into.”
“What?” My mouth started
to go dry. “What do you mean?”
He leaned in, whispering,
“Oh I know your dirty little secret, Lain, about Ash.”
“There’s no secret. He’s my
friend’s brother, and I need to clear his name. He’s innocent. It’s the right
thing to do.”
“So he can come home, and
you can stare at him again from the corners?”
My heart ached as I
contemplated lying, but it was a nice idea, being able to admit it to one
person. “Maybe.” I sighed. “Stupid, right?” Something clicked as I recalled the
one and only person I had ever confided in about this. “Did Lindsey tell you?”
“No. She didn't need to.”
I sighed. “Don't tell
anyone.”
“I won’t. But he might
notice when you rescue him.”
“I guess, but I don't
care if he doesn't notice me, and maybe he won’t know that it was me that
helped him. It’s not about that.”
“You think I don't
understand you, but you’re wrong. I know that you just need to be near him,
even if he doesn't see you. You see him, that's what matters.”
“Yup.” It was the most
pathetic thing I had ever admitted, and I hated that it was Vincent I was
saying it to. But then I lifted my eyes and noticed the way he was looking at
Lindsey who was walking to us with another pumpkin spice latte. He did
understand. He might have been the only one. He hid it well, but he knew. “I’m
just grateful you care that there is a killer on the loose. I can’t seem to get
Lindsey to focus on it, and Andrew is over it. Jake would help if I had
directions for him, but I don't.”
“And the girls don't want
to acknowledge any of it. Our parents are being so overbearing none of us have
any free time.”
“I know.” He nodded and
smiled at Lindsey as she pulled a second cup from behind her back and an amused
look crossed her face.
“You thought I never got
you a coffee, didn't you?”
He laughed and shook his
head, taking his coffee and sliding an arm around her waist. “Thank you.”
“Why do you two look so
serious?” She sipped her latte.
Vincent rolled his eyes.
“Perhaps because a psycho killer is hunting us all.”
“Right.” It came out
snarky, but I was getting tired of how none of them wanted to talk about it
anymore.
“Not this again.” She
rolled her eyes.
We’d made the pact on the
beach to end it, a blood and Grey Goose pact, and none of them had stuck to it.
The day after we got the threatening text from Rachel’s phone we had to go for
a brunch. We were all forced to go. It was an emergency meeting for the
parents, due to the phone call that had been sent to Mr. Henning’s phone by my
father, right before Mr. Henning died. And the fact the killer had said phone.
From then on every day
had been filled with events.
At half of our scheduled
events, Vincent and I had been on Lindsey duty. She’d been a hot mess from the
killer locking her in the pool house so she drank too much too often.
Sage cried all the time,
and when she wasn't crying she was manic. Her highs and lows were spastic and
uncharitable. When she was happy she hit on Vincent whenever Lindsey wasn't
looking. When everyone was looking, she hit on Jake. When she was sad she moped
and said weird things that didn’t make sense.
The chances of her being
the killer crept into my mind more than anyone else.
Sierra got drunk and high
and slept with everyone she could.
Rita was the only one who
held it together, but then again we didn't know what to expect from her.
After not hearing
anything in weeks, we all started to slip back into our regular mode.
Lindsey and Vincent were
together all the time.
Sage was hanging with
Rita and Sierra.
And I played
WoW
and did my corkboard.
“You girls have upped
your prescription meds or something. Haven’t you?” Vincent shook his head.
“No. I just think Sierra might
be right. Maybe this is sort of over now. I mean, the killer hasn't been in
contact with any of us and no one else has died. He said there was a pattern,
and we haven’t seen anything that links Rachel and Mr. Henning together. I
think it’s over.” She lifted her cell phone, her eyes filling with desperation.
“We haven’t even been getting messages. I want it to be over.”
It was Vincent’s turn to
roll his eyes. “Have you never heard of the calm before the storm? This is far
from over. That's a dangerous way to think, princess. We weren’t prepared when
Rachel got killed. We fell into a trap. Now someone has a photo of you and your
friends with a dead girl the moment she died. And your dads left threats on a
phone the killer has for the other dead person. Maybe that's the pattern.”
“He has a point.” I
nodded.
“No! You guys need to
think about this from a rational standpoint. It’s possible he did what he came
here to do and he’s left. I mean
,
he could be back at
college. He could have just wanted to kill Rachel and try to lead us all to
think it’s something else. He might have even just wanted Andrew’s dad dead and
Rachel was a great diversion. Maybe it was a hit. Maybe he came here to do a
hit on Andrew’s dad, but Rachel and him ended up hooking up, and she found out
why he was here. So he killed her so she couldn't warn Mr. Henning.”
“Like the mafia would do?
A hit on Mr. Henning?” Vincent lifted an eyebrow.
“I
mean, it could be mafia.
But maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s a conspiracy
against the wealthy—”
“Oh stop.” Vincent lifted
his hand. “All we need to know is that there is a person who has done terrible
things and has proof of us doing terrible things, and is coming after us. Any
other opinion is foolish. Before you start listing conspiracy theories and
providing examples of how they fit into this moment—”