Twisted (20 page)

Bex slammed the laptop shut and skittered away, pressing herself up against the side of her bed and breathing hard.

Someone you love is going to die.

The pounding of her heart metered out the words:
you’re
(thump)
going
(thump)
to
(thump)
die
(thump). She stared at her computer in abject horror, waiting for it to ping out the sound of a new message, to open itself up, the ominous silver screen glow coming after her.

“Just a weirdo freak,” she panted, her heartbeat thudding in her head now. “He’s just stupid.”

She clicked out the lights and curled up on her bed, pressing her eyes closed tightly, but the words were behind her eyelids too, tattooed there, stark and black and deadly. She opened her eyes and blinked as though she could erase the words from her mind. Then she stared into the darkness, letting her eyes adjust. A breeze lazed through her open window, pushing back her curtains. A car drove slowly down the street and Bex dove to the window, certain the car was looking for her.

Who is
IMHIM
?

Her father was safe; he was on her side. But the site was populated by the Wife Collector’s crazed “fans,” morbid rejects who thought murder was cool and treated killers like rock stars. And wanted to be like them.

“He’s probably just some stupid kid, trying to scare me.”

Bex tried to believe it, but something ominous made her uneasy. Something that told her IMHIM_HESME wasn’t joking. Something that told her that he was closer than she wanted to believe.

She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but when she did, she slept fitfully, dreaming of old newspaper clippings and of the hollow, haunted look in Lauren’s eyes, and of her father and Detective Schuster, and the sound of the dirt falling on Darla’s coffin: heavy, smothering.

• • •

“It’s just unnatural being at school at night,” Chelsea was saying as she and Laney walked just ahead of Trevor and Bex. Trevor squeezed Bex’s hand in his and shot her a heart-melting smile. It made the lump in her throat feel that much more raw. She shifted her purse. It was weighted down with an extra set of clothes and a thick handful of underwear, socks, and bras, as well as a toothbrush and the least amount of makeup she could get by with.

She and her father would leave tonight.

Bex still couldn’t believe it. As much as she wanted to be with her dad, to see him vindicated, she didn’t want to leave Trevor—and she didn’t want to leave Detective Schuster to terrorize more women. She planned to call the police when she and her father were safely out of town.

“This is where I get off,” Trevor said. “I have the awesome job of opening and closing the curtain for the drama showcase.”

Bex gave him a lingering kiss, holding on to his hands and trying not to cry.

“Let him up for air, Bex!”

Trevor didn’t seem to mind, but Bex broke the kiss anyway, pecking him one more time and watching him sprint toward the drama department.

“Someone needs to turn a hose on you two,” Laney said.

Chelsea rolled her eyes and tossed a perfectly coiffed piece of her blond hair over her shoulder. “You’re just mad because you’re the only one of us not in love.” She did a twirl. “My boyfriend is amazing and makes me feel so safe. Dating a cop will do that for you.”

Bex stopped. “You’re dating a cop?”

“A detective, actually.” She wrinkled her nose and held her index finger and thumb a half inch a part. “He’s a weensy bit older but doesn’t look it.”

“Because you’re sixteen pushing forty-five.” Laney smirked. “My stop. See you later.”

Bex stepped closer to Chelsea. “He’s a detective?” Heat spiraled up her spine. “Chels, what’s his name?”

“I told you, Ms. Never Listen. Danny.”

Bex blinked. Detective Schuster.
What was his first name?
Then it came to her: Detective Lieutenant Daniel Schuster.

Someone you love is going to die.

Bex snatched Chelsea by the arm and gave her a hard yank. “Chelsea, you can’t see him. You can’t see him ever again.”

The delight on Chelsea’s face turned to anger. “And why not?”

“He’s bad, Chels. Please, you’ve got to believe me.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes at Bex. “You’re just jealous that your boyfriend is a little boy when mine is a man. Get over it, Bexy.”

“I’m serious!”

People were starting to fill the campus; a din was starting to reverberate through the halls as kids escorted their parents around, pointing out lockers and classrooms. A crowd cut between Chelsea and Bex.

“You have to listen to me!”

But Chelsea had already dismissed her and was pushing her cell phone to her ear. It was then that Bex noticed the charm hanging from Chelsea’s cell phone case: a tiny, jeweled flower. It hung from a loop of silk floss, but it wasn’t a charm—it was an earring.

A small, gold, five-petaled flower with a pearl in the center. Just like the one that Lauren wore. Just like the one that the Wife Collector took when he killed Lauren’s mother.

Bex grabbed Chelsea’s wrist, her breath a terrified whisper.

“Where did you get that charm?”

Chelsea glanced at the flower, pink rushing over her cheeks. “Danny.”

Bex’s entire body turned to ice. “No, Chelsea, no. That belonged to… That’s an earring. You can’t—you can’t see Danny anymore. Please, Chels, please listen to me.”

Chelsea’s eyes narrowed and she shoved the phone in her back pocket. “I’m done with you.” She spun on her heel and started to walk.

“He killed Darla, Chelsea!”

But by that time, the overhead speaker had crackled on and the principal was in the middle of his welcome speech. Bex saw Chelsea’s arm raise above the undulating crowd, her wrist flipping dismissively.

Bex wasn’t sure Chelsea had even heard her.

The crowd split and jostled by, then closed on her, and Bex was bumped from side to side.

“’Scuse me.”

Bex looked up to see Zach, his GoPro slung around his neck.

“Pardon me.”

Another jostle, another ear-splitting announcement over the PA. Bex felt hopeless as she allowed the crowd to pull her down the hall.

No.

She wasn’t alone anymore. She dialed her father.

“I’m here, Bethy.”

“Dad, I think Chelsea is dating Detective Schuster. Or she thinks she is. We’ve got to stop him.” The tears were falling freely now and Bex was hiccupping. “We’ve got to stop him before he hurts her.”

“Do you know where she is?”

Bex scanned the hall. “I can’t see her, but she was headed down to D hall. It’s the classrooms closest to the parking lot.”

“I’ll help, Bethy.”

The second she hung up her phone, it rang again.

Detective Schuster.

She stared at the readout, her hand trembling. She watched the phone light up with each ring, finally letting out her breath when the missed call icon flashed. And then the phone started ringing again. Bex paced, her stomach playing the accordion. She answered before the final ring.

“Detective Schuster?”

“Bex, thank God you answered. Where are you right now?”

She looked around, certain he could hear the swell of voices. “I’m at school.”

“I think your father is on his way there. Stay put. Hang tight and I will be there in five minutes. Don’t do anything until I get there, okay? If you see him…run away.” Then the call ended.

The hall started to clear as parents followed their kids into classes. Bex was determined, speed dialing her phone as she jogged toward Chelsea and her father in D hall.

“Pick up, Chelsea!” When Chelsea didn’t, she tried Laney, Trevor, and Denise. No one answered. “Where are they? Where are they?”

Detective Schuster’s text came through as Bex rounded the corner into B hall.
My men are two minutes from campus. Where are you?

Bex spun, looking at the hall of closed doors around her. The C hall was mostly metal shop and electives, classrooms none of the parents visited. The hall was dark. Bex’s heart thundered and skidded. She dialed Chelsea again and again and was greeted by her voice mail. She was about to dial her father when she heard voices.

They were muffled but still audible. And she knew they were girls, and then a boy spoke. One of the girls laughed out loud, and Bex’s stomach went to liquid.

It was Laney.

“Trevor! Stop, you’re hilarious!” Laney said.

“You’ll laugh at anything, Lane.” Chelsea.

Someone mumbled something that Bex couldn’t make out, and the laughter rang out again. Her heart thumped painfully, slamming against her rib cage, but relief gave her breath.

“Guys?” Bex called.

The voices immediately stopped, and Bex’s own voice echoed back to her. She continued walking, sliding her hand along the wall between the banks of lockers, looking for a light switch. The voices started again, but they were heavy whispers and low murmurs. Bex was certain they were whispering about her.

“Bexy!” It was Laney, her voice cheerful and friendly.

“Where’s my fox?” Trevor chimed in.

Bex glanced over her shoulder, her fear starting to fall away. Her heartbeat slowed to its normal rate. “Guys?” she called again.

She could see a light coming from one of the classrooms up ahead; it was where the voices were coming from.

“Oh thank God.”

Bex ran toward Mr. Rhodes’s room and stopped in the doorway, her blood turning to ice in her veins. Her friends weren’t sitting in the classroom waiting for her. They were projected on the movie screen in the front of the classroom.

“What?” Bex walked toward it, then away again, following the light from the projector.

“I love you, Bexy!” she heard Chelsea call.

“The Wife Collector has struck again.”

Bex stepped back as Loretta Harris, the Raleigh Super Eight news anchor’s concerned face flooded the screen. A picture of Erin Malone flashed on the screen over her left shoulder. Bex could feel the bile at the back of her throat.

“Bexy!”

The image on the screen flashed back to Laney, Chelsea, and Trevor sitting on the beach, the bonfire illuminating their faces. But now Bex was in the scene too, wrapped in Trevor’s letterman’s jacket, curled underneath his arm. She was mesmerized, watching as Trevor leaned close to her, laying a quick kiss on the part of her hair.

“Okay,” he roared, holding up his red Solo cup. “Bex is here. Now the party can begin!”

There was a flood of raucous laughter and cheers, then Loretta Harris’s serious voice breaking in. “…Monroe’s body was found by employees at the beachfront restaurant where she worked. She had been dumped outside and when found—the sight was gruesome.”

“Oh God.” Bex crumpled into one of the empty desks, knowing she should run but unsure where. Her eyes were glued to the screen. There were a few more flashes, a few more pictures, then a computer screen.

A log-in.

IMHIM_HESME.

Bex’s heart was in her throat.

The next picture showed the full log-in screen, Detective Schuster’s avatar lined up under IMHIM_HESME’s.

Bex clapped a hand over her mouth. IMHIM_HESME was Detective Schuster.

Someone you love is going to die.

“Bex!”

The hall was dark, but the silvery flashes from the screen illuminated the man in the doorway. Schuster.

He was dressed all in black, a bulletproof vest bulking his slim frame, a gun more terrifying than any Bex had ever seen strapped to his thigh.

Bex stood, surprised that her legs would even work. “Don’t come near me,” she said, her voice small but steady.

“Bex, we have to get out of here. You father is here. I need to get you somewhere safe.”

“No.” She shook her head, hot, angry tears flicking down her cheeks. “I know who you are. I know what you did. You’re not going to get away with it. You’re not!” Her fingers closed around the only thing she could find—an oblong vase full of pencils—and she launched it. It crashed at Schuster’s feet. He quickly stepped around it, closing the distance between them. Bex mashed her finger on her cell phone’s Send Call button.

“I’m calling my dad. I’m calling him, and he’ll tell everyone that you killed all those women!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re the Wife Collector! I know you are! You used me to frame my father! And now you’re trying to kill Chelsea!”

“Bex—”

“I saw the charm you gave her, you sick freak. The earring? You took it when you killed Lauren’s mother!”

Bex judged the distance to the door from where she was. In order to make it, she’d have to pass by Detective Schuster and his gun. She backed into a corner, barricaded herself behind a desk.

Schuster put out his hands. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t do any of that. I don’t even know Chelsea or Lauren. Bex, who are they?”

“Shut up! You killed Dr. Gold too, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

“Bex, you’re wrong.”

“Chelsea told me about you.” Bex spit out the words, each one viler than the last. “She said she was dating a detective. Danny. Daniel Schuster.”

“Bex, that’s not me.”

“Aren’t you Daniel Schuster? Detective?”

“Yes, but—”

“You did it! He told me!” She pointed to the screen, frozen on IMHIM’s log-in screen. “And
you
were the one on the site!”

“Bex, stop. Look.” Detective Schuster unholstered his gun and laid it on the desk in front of him, then held his hands up. “I’m not armed. We can sit down and talk.”

She wagged her head, pressing her phone to her ear. “My dad will explain everything. You ruined my life, Schuster. You took away my dad, and now you’re going to pay for it!”

“No, Bex, no.” He held his hands in the air.

Bex could hear her father’s phone ringing. It was loud, almost as if it was in stereo. She pulled the phone from her ear and the ring still sounded. She took a few steps toward the door, and the ring grew louder, reverberating through the hall. Schuster kept his hands up and took several steps back while Bex followed the sound. It was coming from a garbage can outside of the classroom—right by the entrance to D hall.

She peered into the mouth of the can, her breath hitching, each ring sucking that much more air out of the room as she saw her name flash across the screen. Bethy.