CHAPTER 14
1271 Words
Calla stood with her bag slung over her shoulder, debating on whether or not to
intervene.
Let him suffer, a nasty little part of her whispered. He's a no-good snoop. He sees
too much. He knows too much.
But he's a buffer. A distraction, a different part of her reasoned. So long as he's a
suspect, he's protecting your secret—and he doesn't even know it.
Calla watched as Jacob cracked Cooper's jaw against the pavement and then made
a move to straddle him. Three bystanders watched from the tailgate of a pickup
truck, impassive.
She watched Cooper take another hit, this time to the eye, and sighed.
"Why am I such a good person?" she asked herself wistfully.
She made a beeline for Cooper. Her eyes swept over the onlookers—one of the
boys, Ryan Kane, avoided her eye.
"What are you doing?" she called, drawing closer.
Jacob glanced up at her, eyes narrowed. He had a fistful of Cooper's shirt in one
hand, the other braced against the pavement. "Back off."
"Or what?" Calla asked, an edge to her words. She told herself she was here to foster goodwill between her and Cooper—and not to get a rise out of Jacob.
He rolled his eyes and lifted Cooper's torso off the pavement, like a toddler might a
rag doll. "Leave it, bitch."
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
Jacob swore and shoved Cooper's head into the pavement. He shot to his feet and
lumbered toward her, puffing up like a bullfrog. "What's your problem?"
"What's my problem? Christ. I'm not the one who needs anger management."
Jacob got in her face. From nearby, one of the boys on the truck's tailgate made a
noise of protest—Ryan Kane. "Jake! Leave it alone, will you? Let's just head out."
"I can't believe you're defending him," he hissed in her face.
She wrinkled her nose. Had the guy never heard of mouthwash?
"And I can't believe how fragile your masculinity is," she countered, gesturing in
Cooper's general direction. "He's, like, half your size. And who the hell dubbed you
hall monitor? It's not your job to kick the s**t out of people."
Jacob sneered down at her. "He killed her. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows
it."
As a matter of fact, I killed her. And I have the knife to prove it.
"For all I know, you killed her," Calla countered, keeping her thoughts to herself.
"Come to think of it, I don't remember seeing you at the funeral. Guilty conscience,
maybe?"
His eyes bulged. Behind him, the other boys glanced at each other, weighing the
pros and cons of fleeing the scene while their hands were still clean.
"What did you say?" he whispered. "What do you know?"
Odd choice of words.
"I said," she began sweetly, "maybe you— "
Jacob grabbed her by the front of her pullover. "Shut your mouth."
Calla's knee jerked, catching him in the crotch. He released her immediately.
"Easy!" Before Jacob could react, Ryan rushed over and grabbed him by the back of
his letterman jacket and pulled. Jacob stumbled back. "Dude. Let's go. What are you doing?"
"Whatever," he muttered, but he couldn't hide the fear in his voice. "You're right.
Let's go."
He turned and strode away, giving Cooper one last kick as he went. The onlookers
scattered as Ryan and Jacob hopped in the truck and sped off.
Calla looked down at Cooper.
He grimaced up at her from his spot on the pavement, still flat on his back.
"Way to fight like a man," she observed.
Cooper groaned as he sat up. His bottom lip was split, and his right eye had already
started to turn black and swell shut. "That sucked. Like, massively sucked."
Calla tried to restrain herself from saying something callous. She figured the normal
thing to do in this situation would be to apologize in an effort to soothe his pain.
She tried it out. "I'm sorry."
"No. You're not."
Well. That hadn't worked.
"You're right. I'm not," She said, though she offered him her hand.
"I hate you," Cooper groaned again. He took her hand anyway. She hauled him to his
feet—he was a lot heavier than he looked—and steadied him. They were the same
height, which made staring him down much easier.
"You're not very grateful I saved your life," she mused.
"That's because I'm not." He raised a finger. "Do me a favor. Let me die next time."
"Is this a cry for help?"
"A cry? More like a scream." He touched his swollen eye and winced.
Calla shoved her hands in the pockets of her pullover, mulling through her options.
She could taunt him further. Or she could leverage this moment as an opportunity.
She thought back to that day he snapped a picture of her outside of the library. He'd
seemed on edge. More on edge than normal.
"So," she started, choosing her words carefully. "You want to tell me why you've
been hanging around the library?"
She wasn't sure why it mattered. But Cooper knew more than he was letting on.
He'd found Tracy's body, after all. He'd seen the crime scene first hand.
The killer left a note, Cory had said. Calla wasn't sure that she could trust the intel.
He could have been using her obvious interest as a ploy to gain her favor.
If anyone could back up his claim, it would be Cooper. But what did Tracy's death
and a hypothetical note have to do with the school library?
Cooper clenched his jaw. "You want to tell me why you've been digging holes in your backyard?"
Calla froze.
He knows.
Kill him.
Save yourself.
She fought back the urge to flee—or to fight. Instead, she gave him her best droll
stare, feigning indifference.
He smiled and then swore, pressing one hand to his jaw. Uncertainty hovered in his
eyes, but also a conviction so deep, nothing she could do or say
would shake him from his current path.
He knew what she'd done. And he was hell bent on proving it.
"I guess we both have our secrets," she finally said. A cool breeze blew past them,
stirring his overgrown curls.
Cooper nodded stiffly. She wondered if it was a trick to annoy her. Perhaps he'd
used up all his bravery and no longer had the words.
"Just remember," she added softly, before she could second guess herself. "My
secrets are far more dangerous than yours. Don't threaten me, Daniels."
He paled. His Adam's apple bobbed.
She turned to leave, heading for the track.
"Thanks," he called, giving her pause. She turned. "For stepping in."
She stared at him. "Maybe next time I won't."
"I know."
They shared one last look, and then Cooper escaped to his busted convertible, a
slight limp to his step. Calla watched him go with dark longing.
What does he know? What makes him so brave?
Or so stupid?
Cooper was a puzzle that she couldn't solve. And not only did she want to solve
him. She wanted to own him, consume him, until she understood what made him
tick, what made him see her for what she was—and what made him keep his silence about that dark secret.
It was a very dangerous desire. For both of them.
"Lock your doors, Cooper," she murmured, though he was much too far away to hear her now. She watched as he pulled out of the parking lot. "There's a killer on
the loose."
- Writer
