Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 22

He closed his eyes, blocking out her face. "I can't go to the police."

"You go to the police, and I go to Cory. Your choice."

"That's not much of a choice," he muttered darkly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What do you want to know?"

"Don't be dense, Coop."

He felt too overwhelmed to argue. Calla had found his ultimate weakness. And

unfortunately, her threats were not idle.

"There was a page," he started, nauseous. The polaroid in his front pocket burned like an accusation. "Just like the one in my locker. I didn't notice it at first, that night. But the sheriff...he gave me a photograph of a note they found at the first crime scene.

He asked if I recognized it. I didn't. I still don't. It's from some book, Grimm's Fairy

Tales. I assumed you knew about it."

He opened his eyes to pin her with a look. She studiously ignored him, her eyes on

the ceiling and hands behind her back.

"I figured as much," she murmured. "The page. What did it say?"

It was as if she could sense his defeat. He sighed and recited the words, a chill

rolling down his spine as he did so.

"Interesting." Her eyes slid back down to his face. "A second page was left at the

crime scene with Jacob Stein. I'd guess it's another page from the same book."

Cooper blinked. She noted the confusion on his face and sighed.

"That page in your locker. It's from a copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales. I couldn't find it in

the library..." she trailed off.

"I already tried that," he inserted, trying to prove that he wasn't completely

incompetent. It wasn't until she smirked that he realized he'd just confirmed one of

her theories—that he'd been snooping around the library for good reason.

His cheeks flamed. He pressed a hand to his forehead to try and hide his irritation.

"And Jacob?"

"I'm sure you've seen the picture on social media already." He grimaced. He had.

And if he never saw a dead body again, it would be too soon. "There's a white piece

of paper in the lower left corner." She began pacing a few inches away, encroaching

on his space. The smell of strawberries followed her.

"How did you know what to look for?" he asked, at a loss.

"Cory." Her answer was short. Simple. "He told me about the first note. He's trying

to seduce me with information from Daddy Dearest."

"It's working," Cooper muttered, ignoring her sharp glare.

Her eyes slid away, falling on an abstract mural that occupied most of the space

between the computer lab and the classroom at the end of the hall. "I have to

wonder, though. You're clearly on the list. If there is a list. I can't imagine the killer

would target you like this for no reason. Why not just kill you? Why leave a warning?

If it's anticipation he's looking for, he'd probably do the same for the others..."

She trailed off. Cooper picked up where her train of thought ended.

"What about Jacob's locker?" he asked, standing suddenly. His head swam. "What if

there's a page—"

"Excellent." Calla grabbed him by the front of his hoodie. He was so alarmed that he

allowed her to drag him a few steps before he put up any resistance. "Good

thinking, Coop."

"What are you doing?" he hissed, swatting her hand away. She let him go without a

backwards glance, continuing down the hall with more haste than before.

He hesitated, torn between curiosity and reason. Curiosity, because he was almost

positive that his theory was correct. He couldn't be the only one receiving death

threats in his locker.

But then his voice of reason kicked in.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Digging around in a dead kid's locker. You're gonna get caught.

"Calla," he started after her, his voice barely above a hiss. He voiced his concerns.

" Calla . We're gonna get caught!"

She turned the corner. He went after her—and then ran straight into her back.

He swore.

"You're right," she muttered, staring at the cluster of lockers at the end of the hall.

He saw her shoulders relax. "Well. You would be right. The cameras don't work in

the east wing."

She shot him a sly look. He almost smiled back, overly excited about their bizarre,

spur-of-the-moment mission.

The adrenaline rush quickly faded when they reached the row of lockers. Jacob's

locker had been taped over, no doubt to

discourage scavengers. A pile of flowers had gathered on the ground, along with

pictures that friends had left behind in remembrance.

Calla swore. "Well. Should have seen that one coming."

Cooper spotted a photograph, larger than the others, of Ryan and Jacob with their

arms slung over each other. On a whim, he bent to retrieve the picture. He flipped it

over, surprised to find words scrawled on the back.

"I'm sorry," he read aloud, turning the picture in his hands. Hoping that more words

would appear, maybe.

I'm sorry you died? Or whoops, I'm sorry I killed you?

Calla plucked the photo from his grasp.

"Hey!" he objected. She analyzed it from every angle before handing it back.

"You should keep that," she said shortly, not bothering to explain herself.

"Why? And why me?"

Her eyes fell to the camera around his neck. "Call it a hunch."

"Fine. What now?" Cooper asked, pocketing the photo. He felt irrationally upset.

They'd been on to something. He could feel it...

"What now?" she asked, perplexed. She shot him an amused look from over her

shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "Ease up, Sherlock Holmes. I thought you wanted

nothing to do with me or my ilk."

"Did you just call a vicious killer your ilk ?"

She sighed, turning to face him. "Look. Coop. Your input has been...invaluable. I

appreciate the intel. But the road ends here."

"But..." he floundered for words. Why should he feel so disappointed?

You should be relieved. Turn around and run.

She waited for him to elaborate. Something about her posture—or maybe it was the

look in her eyes—seemed off. "Yes?"

"What about Vincent?" he asked.

She paused. Patient. Composed. Not at all like the irate, restless creature he knew

her to be—when they were alone, at least. "You've told me enough. I don't need

anything else from you. If you keep your mouth shut...then I'll do the same."

Her words felt like a slap.

I don't need anything else from you.

He should have been relieved . She had let him off the hook. He'd told her

what he knew, and now he simply had to mind his own business. Vincent would be

safe.

But he wouldn't be safe. The scrap of paper in his hand felt as if it weighed twenty

pounds.

"I...this is my life," he whispered, struggling to articulate the way he felt. "I'm going

to die. If the police can't find this guy, I'm going to die. We have information. We

have this. " He lifted the torn page, holding it between them. "You can't go on some

crazy, suicidal solo hunt!"

She watched him. Carefully. "I never said I was on a hunt ."

"You didn't have to," he murmured, running a hand through his hair—once, twice,

three times. "I know you. You have questions. And you don't ask questions if you

aren't looking for answers." He met her watchful eye, fearful and yet more sure of

himself than he'd been in a long time. "You want to find this guy. To protect

yourself. And I can help."

Saying those words felt horribly wrong. Every instinct he had screamed for him to

run. To hide. To crawl inside a dark hole and wait for the creature lurking outside to

pass.

But that wasn't an option. Not anymore. His fingers convulsed around the edges of

the page.

"You can help," she repeated. That light in her eyes brightened. "How?"

"This isn't a one-man show. I don't care who you think you are. If I'm six on a hit

list, that means there are at least three other people in danger. And, let me remind

you," he added quickly, "this is my life. My neck. If you think I'm going to trust you to

figure this s**t out, you're insane. You can't just throw threats in my face and

expect me to sit on the sidelines." He took a deep breath. "So. You're stuck with

me."

Calla stared. And stared. And stared.

"Alright," she said, perfectly at ease with the decision.

He deflated somewhat. "You...alright?"

"Alright," she agreed again. The bell rang, startling him. She laughed and punched

him in the arm—a little too hard.

The door to the computer lab opened, releasing a flood of students. Cooper knew

he would lose her in the crowd quickly, that she would turn and leave and he would

not be able to follow. But before she did, she grinned at him, and the strange light in

her eyes suddenly made sense.

He'd given her exactly what she wanted. Information—and an ally.

"Let's catch a killer," she said with a laugh, turning away.

And just as she always did, she disappeared.