The Burning Man (13 page)

There was a thin dusting of snow on the surface of her open eyes, making them seem to sparkle in the dim moonlight. He didn’t bother to carry her, just dragged her by her ankles over to the hole, and shoved her head first into the dark water.

Sure enough, her shoulders were a tight fit, but once they were through, the rest of her slipped beneath the ice with no trouble at all. Her body lingered in the water just beneath the hole, Olivia’s puffy coat bright and visible like a warning flag, so he got a sturdy branch from the shore and used it to push the body out of sight. That hole would be gone by morning, and the imposter would be perfectly entombed.

That was all Tony needed to buy him a few precious hours.

Inside the main hall, pretty much the entire Junior and Senior classes were crammed cheek and jowl, with a generous handful of underclassmen sniffing around the perimeter. There was a billiards table in the middle of the room that was currently being used as a throne from which a languid Stacia was holding court.

Stacia Mason wasn’t exactly the most beautiful girl at Deerborn, but she was by far the most desirable. Looking at her objectively, Olivia couldn’t figure out what all the boys saw in her. Chelsea was much prettier, yet when Stacia was in the room, guys acted like Chelsea didn’t exist. Her dimensions were average in every direction, neither fat, nor thin. Five feet five inches, with a longer torso and short, sturdy legs. B-cup chest. Even her face was plain, eyes just a little too small and nose just a little too long. Her brown hair was shoulder length and forgettably styled. If you saw her in a still photograph, you’d forget what she looked like the minute the photo was taken away.

But in person, Stacia smoldered. She gave off a trail of steamy pheromones as if it was incense, and moved with a come-hither bump and grind that turned any male within a mile radius into a leering cartoon wolf. Stacia knew it, too, and used it ruthlessly to her advantage.

Luckily for Olivia, Brent and Taylor would have no interest in an alpha she-wolf like Stacia—she was way too intimidating to victimize. Like all predators, they singled out the weaker members of the herd.

Although Olivia was viewed as a white-trash outsider at Deerborn, and didn’t have a lot of friends, she was far from an easy mark in the eyes of a guy like Brent. He tended to prefer girls who had a reputation for being “sluts” so that if it came down to her word against his, no one would believe a girl like that.

It would be up to Olivia to make him believe that she would get in some kind of trouble if she were caught drinking. Then to convincingly pretend to be passed out drunk.

When she spotted her targets standing over by the snack machine, she felt a thrilling pulse of adrenalin that sharpened her senses and made her heart hammer in her chest. Here she was, hunting a hunter, just like she’d always dreamed she would do. It felt so right. Like her destiny.

They hadn’t spotted her yet, so she took a few moments to plan her approach. She looked around for Chelsea, but didn’t see her. She thought that she might wait a few minutes for her roommate to arrive with the camera, but then again, she might be waiting all night.

Then Brent was pointing to the door, seeming to be indicating a desire to leave.

Olivia couldn’t wait any longer. She had to act quickly.

She turned and backed toward the two of them, her bottle of fake pills open and ready. Then she made herself stumble, bumping into Brent and spilling the candy out onto the floor.

“Oopsie,” she said. “Let me just...”

She got down on her hands and knees and started crawling around Brent’s legs collecting the fallen candy. Brent and Tyler snickered, elbowing each other and nodding at her raised ass and short skirt.

“Hold this,” she said, thrusting the empty bottle into Brent’s hand and hoping he’d read the label.

“No problem, Han,” he said. “Take your time down there.”

Bristling inwardly at his use of her nickname, she kept her feelings hidden and gathered up most of the candies. At the same time she slipped one hand into her boot, quickly enough that they didn’t notice.

Then she turned her face upward so Brent and Tyler could see her, and then popped them all into her mouth at once, cringing a little at the thought of eating anything off the floor, but grimly determined to do whatever it took to pull off this charade.

“Atta girl!” Tyler said.

“You missed one,” Brent said, toeing the last candy with his boot.

Olivia picked up the muddy candy and held it out to Brent.

“You want it?” she asked. Before he could answer, she giggled and shook her head. “Too bad.”

She swallowed the last candy and pretended to wash it down with a swig from the nearly empty gin bottle.

“Need a hand?” Brent asked, reaching down to help her up with one hand while sliding the other up under her sweater, brushing against a breast.

She shuddered with revulsion at his touch, but made herself act like she didn’t notice. She had to think of it like eating the dirty candy. A necessary evil for the greater good.

“Don’t tell Coach Lowenbruck that I’ve been partying,” she said, leaning heavily against Brent. “If he finds out, he’ll totally kick me off the team.”

She put her finger to her lips and made a loud, wet, shushing sound, and then pretended to fade out for a moment, letting her eyelids flutter closed, but still watching his face through her eyelashes.

He looked over at Tyler and smirked.

Olivia knew the hook was in, but he wasn’t in the boat. Not yet anyway.

She jerked her eyes open and looked up.

“I’d better...” She waved her fingers in the direction of the door. “I should go home now. I think I feel sick.”

“Here, baby,” Brent said, wrapping a python-like arm around her waist. “Let us help you.” Tyler stepped up to the other side and did the same.

“You’re so sweet,” she said, stumbling against him. “I feel kinda queasy. I think I need some bacon. Can we get some bacon sandwiches?”

“Don’t worry,” Brent told her. “We’re here for you.”

Tyler covered his mouth with the back of his hand and snickered. Olivia had to stifle an urge to punch his leering face. Instead she pulled away from him and spun around, hands in the air.

“Oh my god I LOVE this song! WHOO-HOOO!”

She didn’t even recognize the song that was playing— something with a girl singer—but it didn’t matter.

“Yeah,” Brent said, pressing up against her under the pretense of dancing. “Shake it baby!”

Tyler pushed up against her from behind, crushing her between them, and she felt a flush of claustrophobic panic, but she pushed it down inside, steeling herself for what had to be done. She let out a slushy giggle and sagged against Brent as if she’d nodded out.

“Is she out?” Tyler said, his hands up under her little skirt. “I don’t want her to wake up in the middle, like that last one. What’s her name again?”

It took every ounce of determination and will to stay completely still and not to flinch away from his touch. The urge to elbow him in the nuts was almost overwhelming.

“Her name is Han Solo,” Brent said. “But after tonight, I think her name will be Han Trio.”

“How about if we just call her Whore?”

“Good idea. It’s so much easier when they all have the same name. That way you don’t accidentally say the wrong one when you’re nailing them!”

Olivia let her body go heavy and limp, and when Brent failed to hold her up, she let herself slide to the floor.

“Oh my god!” an unfamiliar female voice said. “She’s totally wrecked.”

“No worries,” Brent was saying, lifting her with his hands in her armpits. “We’ll take her back to the dorm.”

Olivia kept her eyes closed, but felt the icy shock of the night air as she was dragged out of the rec hall. They propped her up against the outside wall of the building for a moment, while they made some sort of adjustments.

“This one is definitely ready for her ride on the stud train,” Brent said, lifting one of her limp hands and then dropping it. “Stick a fork in her, because she is
done
!”

Tyler snickered, lifting her other arm and slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’ll stick my fork in her as soon as we get her back to our room!”

Olivia cheered silently. Not only did she have them talking about previous assaults, but she also had them outlining their plans for her, right there on tape. She just needed a little bit more and she’d be ready to “wake up.”

“Evening, gentlemen,” a deep voice said from behind them. “What’s wrong with your ladyfriend?”

Brent spun to face the voice, dragging Olivia around with him. The voice belonged to an older guy with thick black hair that was just starting to gray at the temples, and cold dark eyes. He was dressed in a cheap down jacket, the little T-shaped plastic tab that used to hold a price tag sticking out of one sleeve. Bulky leather gloves, but no hat or scarf.

Instead of boots, he wore an incongruous pair of fancy, expensive sneakers, currently caked with snow. He might as well have been wearing a sign that read
NOT FROM AROUND HERE.

Looking at him through slitted eyes, Olivia felt the swift return of the strange, spiky headache she’d felt earlier, followed by a flash image of blood on snow. It was like a double exposure, gone before she could get a handle on it.

“Who the hell are you?” Brent asked, the tight panicky tone of his voice undermining the intended toughness.

“I’m the guy who’s taking that girl off your horny little hands, tiger.” The man held out a slim leather wallet in his left hand and flipped it open, flashing a badge too quickly for them to read it. “You got a problem with that?”

“Whoa,” Tyler said, backing away from Olivia like she was on fire.

“Hey,” Brent said. “We don’t want any trouble, officer. We were just helping her get home safe.”

“And she lives in the boys’ dorm, huh?” He smiled. “Right.”

“Listen,” Olivia said, standing up straight and pulling away from Brent, keeping her voice clear, calm, and normal. “I’m fine. We were just goofing around, really.”

Brent looked at her like she’d suddenly grown an eye in the middle of her forehead, but she ignored him.

Her gaze was drawn to the man’s right hand, to the little price tag hanger. There was something strange about the glove. It looked hollow, like he only had one long finger in the middle and the rest were empty.

Brent and Tyler were idiots who wouldn’t notice an oncoming train until it hit them, but Olivia could tell that this man was bad news. The man seemed to sense her suspicion and smiled even wider.

The smile never reached his eyes.

“Yeah, well,” Brent said. “We’re gonna get going, then. Right, Ty?”

“No wait,” Olivia said, reaching out to take Tyler’s arm. She never thought that she’d be desperate to stay with Brent and Tyler. “Don’t go. Let’s go back to the party.”

“No way, man,” Tyler said, pulling away from her and walking away as fast as he could without running.

“It’s okay, Olivia,” the black-haired man said. “I’ll walk you home.”

Tony was finally alone with Olivia.

He hated the way that she was dressed, with all that makeup and everything, and decided that he would take time to wash her face. He’d do it after he knocked her out, but before he killed her. Just so that he could see that pretty young girl’s face the way he remembered it.

It seemed so crazy that his whole life had been leading up to this moment and now he was here, living it. It was real.

She
was real.

“Olivia?” A woman’s voice. “You okay, honey?”

Tony felt that hot, corrosive rage boiling up inside him. It was that nosy old biddy from the dorm. She was wearing an ugly, ankle-length, purple down coat and a matching angora hat that made her look like that fat purple creature that used to sell hamburgers to kids.

“Mrs. G,” Olivia said. “I’m fine. I was just heading back to the dorm.”

The older woman stepped up to Tony like a suspicious bulldog trying to decide whether to bark or bite. She had her right hand in her pocket, arm stiff and held at a sharp right angle. She didn’t pull her gun, but she didn’t have to. Tony knew it was there. He could smell it.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Detective Jimmy Obejas,” Tony said, flashing the badge again. “I’m investigating a cold case, ma’am.”

“Cold case?” She squinted at him, clearly not buying his story. “Let me see that badge again.”

He looked over at Olivia, but she had her face turned away, locking him out. He could still feel the burning of her closeness.

He took the badge from his pocket and opened it again. The old bulldog frowned at it, studying it as if there was going to be a test.

He’d dismissed the woman when he first saw her around the dorm, but now he was realizing that he had seriously underestimated her as a potential threat. She wasn’t regular police, more like some kind of private security. But on whose payroll?

“Tampa,” she said with a scowl. “What’s a Florida dick doing all the way up here? And what does it have to do with Olivia?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of the case,” he said.

The woman arched a red painted eyebrow.

“If you want to interview any one of my students,” she said, her flat Southie accent swiftly replaced by the smooth, generic tones of a radio newscaster, “you are welcome to do so during specific hours, in the presence of one or more school officials. If that is not acceptable, you may obtain an arrest warrant and conduct the interview at the local police station, in the presence of her lawyer. What you may
not
do is accost my students alone in the woods in the middle of the night.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Clear as crystal, ma’am,” Tony said, pocketing the badge and backing away. “Just make sure she gets home safe.”

“Oh, I will,” the woman replied. “You can believe that.”

She put a puffy purple arm around Olivia and led her away.

* * *

“What was that about?” Mrs. Gilbert asked.

“I have no idea,” Olivia replied. “I’ve never seen that guy before in my life.”