Private 8 - Revelation (4 page)

My stalker was definitely the killer. Had to be. It couldn't all just be some terrifying coincidence.

I dropped back down on my bed again and clutched my comforter to my chest. The killer had been in my room at Billings several times. Had been in my closet, my drawers, my overnight bag. And he or she

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had been in this room too. This very day. Leaving the most horrifying message yet. Once again I heard Ivy laugh, and my blood ran cold. It had to be her. She'd had opportunity and motive. And now I was living right next door to her--and Josh was dating her. I shoved the covers aside, pulled my chair out from under the doorknob, and sat down at my desk. I was not going down without a fight. Hauer wanted evidence? I'd find him some evidence. This bitch was going down.

I whipped a pad and pen out of my bag and wrote Ivy's name at the top, then jotted down all the reasons I was sure she was the bad guy. Her motive (her grandmother's stroke), her behavior (trying to exclude us from the Legacy), her not-so-subtle remarks (about hating Billings and Cheyenne). My hands shook the whole time and my writing looked like that of a serial killer--different from one line to the next--but I kept on going. When I was done, I took a deep breath. If I showed this to Hauer, would it be enough?

Probably not. Everyone knew Ivy was dating Josh now. He would probably see these as the psychotic ramblings of a teenage girl who was heartbroken that her boyfriend had moved on.

Which I was, but still.

What could I do to make it look more legit? The answer hit me almost immediately. I needed more suspects. I needed to make it at least appear like I was being fair. Unbiased. I drew my knees up and sat back in my chair to think. Part of me felt it would be a waste of time, but in all honesty, there were a few other potential suspects. Reluctantly, I listed them and their potential motives beneath Ivy's entry.

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First, Trey Prescott. He was an incredible guy, and I seriously doubted he was capable of hurting a fruit fly, but he had been so angry at Cheyenne at the beginning of the year. Why had they broken up over the summer? Maybe it was something worth killing over.

Then, of course, I had to consider the other girls in Billings. They always say the people closest to the victim are the prime suspects. All the classic murder motives--jealousy, passion, anger--are stronger with people you're close to. Just look at Ariana and Thomas. She had loved him. But when it came down to it, I couldn't think of many girls with real motives for killing Cheyenne. She had been a total dictator, but most of the girls in Billings kind of liked that. The only girls with any kind of motive were the three she had targeted-- the three she had wanted to kick out.

Sabine, Constance, and Lorna.

Of course I disregarded Sabine and Constance right away. They were two of my best friends and were both totally guileless, sweet, and honest. And Lorna was too big of a wuss to murder anyone, let alone spend weeks stalking me. Unless she had help from Missy, her best friend. Missy was a hell of a lot stronger than Lorna, plus she hated me. What if she had helped out Lorna by offing Cheyenne, then decided to get her own jollies by stalking me? It made a twisted kind of sense. I added "Missy/Lorna ???" to my list.

After much thought I also added Astrid. It pained me to do it, but the girl was kind of an enigma. No one knew why she had been kicked out of Barton School last year. She had told me she'd been caught smoking, but would that really get a person kicked out of school?

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Maybe it had been for some insidious crime. Plus she had known Cheyenne forever. Maybe, like the drama Ivy and Cheyenne had at Ivy's grandmother's house, there was something in their shared past that had set Astrid off. They had definitely been at odds with each other at the beginning of the year, and I had assumed it was because Astrid refused to fall in line with Cheyenne's plans to keep Constance, Sabine, and Lorna out of Billings. But who knew? Maybe it had been something larger than that. Still, I put two extra question marks next to Astrid's name. I didn't want it to be her. Not remotely.

I looked over my list and took a deep breath, feeling calmer now that I was taking some sort of action. Tomorrow morning, after everyone had left for breakfast, I was going to search Ivy's room for something concrete. I knew it was risky, but I didn't care. If I could prove that Ivy was the murderer, that she had been working to destroy me for months, at least I might actually be able to sleep at night. Then I could concentrate on earning Noelle's forgiveness for what I'd done, getting back into Billings, and maybe even winning Josh back too. I could concentrate on reclaiming my life.

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***

"Thank you so much for fixing my computer last night," Jillian said as she and Ivy walked out of their room on Monday morning. I listened from the other side of my door, my breath coming quick and shallow. "I thought the thing was fritzed, and I totally forgot to back up my world civ paper."

"Not a problem," Ivy replied. They were in the hallway now, passing just outside my door. "But how many times have I told you, always back up everything? "

"I know, I know, Bill Gates," Jillian said with a laugh. "I promise I will never again question your computer geek ways."

"I prefer computer diva," Ivy joked.

I closed my eyes as a wave of realization came over me. Ivy, a computer geek? No wonder she'd been able to rig Cheyenne's e-mail to keep sending me that suicide note over and over and over again. No wonder she'd been able to get through to my accounts no matter how I

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tried to block her or how many times I changed my address. The more I learned about the girl, the more certain I was that she was my tormentor. I made a mental note to add this new bit of info to my suspect list. The moment I heard the elevator ping and Ivy and Jillian's laughter fade, I slipped out of my room. It was getting late, and the hallway was deserted. Taking a deep breath and saying a quick prayer that Ivy and Jillian wouldn't double back for anything, I grasped the cold bronze doorknob and pushed. Ten million times I had cursed the powers that be for deciding we didn't need locks on our dorm room doors. For once, I couldn't have been more grateful.

Ivy and Jillian's room was about twice the size of mine, and they had made it cozy by draping colorful scarves across the ceiling to hide the ugly stucco. The walls were papered with full-size posters, magazine tear sheets, and framed photographs; not an inch of graying white paint peeked through anywhere. Their beds, pushed against opposite walls, were littered with throw pillows, and their desks stood back-to-back in front of the window so that they could both see out when they were studying. And so that they couldn't see each other and get distracted. Not a bad little system. I'd have to remember that if I ever had a roommate again.

Okay. What was I doing? This was not an episode of Pimp My Dorm. I was here for information.

Glancing around, I identified Ivy's side of the room by a square frame holding a photo of her and Josh, clearly taken out on the quad. They were smiling and hugging.

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Gag, heave, gag.

Part of me wanted to smash it, burn it, tear it to shreds, but instead I quickly sifted through a short stack of papers next to her computer. It was all college brochures and copies of the applications she'd sent: Harvard, Dartmouth, Tufts, Wesleyan, Boston College. Clearly the girl wanted to stay close to home. I yanked open the first drawer of her desk. Nothing but pens, pencils, pads, and printer ink. The second drawer was all old notebooks, which I paged through quickly, finding nothing interesting other than a couple of doodled hearts with Ivy's and Gage's names in them. Ew. Why hadn't those two just stayed together? They were so perversely well-suited for each other.

The bottom drawer of her desk was filled with snack food and feminine products. A weird combination, but I had a hunch it wouldn't be of interest to Detective Hauer or Josh.

I stood up and looked around. Only the dresser and closet were left, and I was getting tenser with each passing second. There had to be something here. Something...

And that was when my eyes found the photo. Hanging on the wall above Ivy's bed was a full-color, eight-by-ten picture of four girls with their arms draped around one another. It wouldn't have been remotely out of the ordinary, if not for the totally eerie and creepy lineup. Ivy was on one end, then Cheyenne, then Noelle, then Ariana.

A killer, a victim, a friend, and a killer.

Just looking at Ariana's openly smiling face gave me chills, and I had to turn away. The girl had tried to murder me. Had succeeded in

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killing Thomas Pearson. Why would anyone want a picture of her up in their room, let alone Ivy--the girl who had told me she hated Ariana and Noelle above anyone? It just didn't add up.

Steeling myself, I studied the photo, looking for clues. Judging by the girls' clothes and the blossoming tree behind them, the picture had been taken in the spring, but when? Why? Why those four and only those four? I was about to pluck the photo off the wall for a closer look, when down the hallway a door slammed, scaring the breath right out of me. My head whipped around to look at the door and I took a few stumbling steps away from the bed, every inch of me shaking. I couldn't stay here any longer. I was going to have to continue my search another time. As I fumbled with the doorknob, I took one last look at the photo. Why on earth would Ivy want the faces of the people who had betrayed her to be the last thing she saw before closing her eyes at night?

There was definitely something freaky going on here. And I was going to figure out what it was.

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SUSPECT NUMERO UNO

I skipped breakfast, spending the hour calming my nerves, adding to my list of evidence against Ivy, and sending Noelle an e-mail apologizing once again for what I had done. All I could do was hope that she would have an unguarded moment and read the message, and that my words might start to melt the ice wall she had put up between us. I finally headed out in time to make it to morning services at the chapel, where I sneaked in at the back of the crowd.The vibe in the air was hushed, paranoid. Apparently everyone had heard about the murder investigation at breakfast. And if they hadn't, the two uniformed cops stationed near the doors of the chapel certainly set an eerie tone.

"... police are taking over Dean Marcus's old office...."

"Are they going to interrogate everyone? I didn't even know the girl."

"... everyone knows who did it anyway--"

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When I heard that one, my head whipped around, but I couldn't tell who had said it. I was soon bustled right down the center aisle to the junior section, where I was about to sit in my usual pew--until I realized it was a Billings pew. Instead, I took the one two rows back and tried to hold my head high. "Hi, Reed," Constance whispered as she slid into the pew in front of mine. "How was your first night in your new room?" she asked, trying to sound all positive and upbeat.

"Fine," I lied, the back of my neck flushed with heat. I could practically feel Noelle watching us from a few rows back. I knew she wouldn't like the idea of Constance fraternizing with the enemy. "But the room itself is kind of dark and depressing."

"I missed you," Sabine added as she joined Constance. "It was so odd, sleeping in that room alone."

A lump of sorrow filled my throat, nearly choking me. Meanwhile, Missy shot me a death glare as she, Lorna, Astrid, and Kiki filed in next to Sabine.

"You guys better quit it," Missy hissed to my friends while glancing at me. "Noelle will eat you alive for talking to her."

My heart squeezed tightly in my chest.

"I don't care what Noelle thinks," Sabine said defiantly.

"No, you guys, Missy's right," I said, as much as it pained me to agree with her. "You don't want to get on her bad side right now. I'm fine. Just... face forward."

Constance and Sabine turned their backs to me reluctantly and I slumped against the hard pew. A few other juniors filled in the seats

43 to my right, all eyeing me with curiosity, wondering why I was in their row. I supposed the news of my expulsion from Billings hadn't completely made the rounds yet. Either that or they were still obsessing over the Reed-and-Dash-seminude show they had all gotten to see. I had been the subject of whispers and stares ever since the night of the fund-raiser.

"Good morning, faculty and students of Easton Academy!" Headmaster Cromwell announced, taking his spot behind the podium.

"Good morning, Headmaster Cromwell," we dutifully recited.

With a nod, our fearless leader got right down to the morning announcements. He wore a gray suit and blue tie this morning, along with his ever-present American flag tie tack. His white hair was perfectly slicked back from his face and his voice boomed throughout the chapel as always, but I noticed something different about him. There was something almost jaunty in the way he spoke and held his head. Like Mr. Serious was actually excited about something.

How was that possible, when we had another murder on our hands and the Easton Police Department taking over offices in Hell Hall so they could question students?"And now, a final announcement that I'm hoping will bring a bit of levity to our lives here at Easton," he said, looking across the room. A never-before-seen sparkle danced in his normally dead blue eyes. "This year I have decided to reinstate an old Easton Academy tradition--the Easton Academy Holiday Dinner."

Instantly, the entire chapel filled with an excited buzz. Everyone, it seemed, knew what this dinner was--all except me.

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"For those of you who are new to our community, the Easton Academy Holiday Dinner is a catered banquet held in the dining hall. There will be traditional holiday fair and decorations, the Easton Academy Chorale will treat us to a holiday concert, and everyone will have a chance to relax and unwind before finals. All students and faculty are invited. In my day this dinner was the social event of the season. I'm hoping it will be that again." The buzzing intensified as the girls around me started gabbing about how their mothers and grandmothers had always talked about the Holiday Dinner and how fabulous it was. I was surprised my classmates could get so excited about a dinner in the cafeteria.