Authors: Hannah Jayne
Twisted (21 page)
Bex snatched the phone from the can and whirled on Schuster. “What did you do to him?”
“Look at the phone, Bex.” Schuster’s voice was steady, even.
“How do you have his phone?” Her voice cracked.
“He tossed it. Your father. Your father is the Wife Collector.” There was something soft, apologetic in his voice. “He was manipulating you the whole time.”
Bex shook her head, disbelieving. Schuster was the Wife Collector.
He gently took the phone from her hand, flicking it on. He held it out to her, but Bex refused to look.
“Those are the calls he made to you. That’s your number.”
“No.”
“He used you to get to her.”
Bex shook her head again, a new round of tears pooling in front of her eyes. “No. He came back for me.”
“He didn’t, Bex.”
She was about to respond when a primitive, pulse-stopping scream cut through the air.
Chelsea.
She took off running in the direction of her friend’s screams, running until her thighs ached.
She would save Chelsea.
She wouldn’t let another girl die.
“He’s just a man.”
Bex burst down the D hall just as her father was dragging Chelsea out of a classroom. She was screaming and kicking, striking out like a wet cat. Bex’s father had his hands on Chelsea’s neck as he slammed her up against one of the lockers, the thunking sound of her head against metal immediately stopping her shrieks. She went limp and he swiped his arms around her, sweeping her feet from under her.
“Leave her alone!”
Bex’s father’s head turned. “Oh, Bethy, this isn’t what it looks like. You don’t understand. It was Schuster. I had to get her away—”
Bex didn’t hear what he had to say. Her eyes were locked on the keychain hanging from his pocket. A tiny, slick silver bird twirled at the end of a lanyard, its pink, jeweled eyes catching the dim light.
Tourmalines.
Dr. Gold’s bracelet.
Chelsea whimpered. “Bex, please.”
Bex was pummeled by a memory.
Another girl with white-blond hair. She swept Beth Anne up and Beth Anne laughed, loving the tinkling sound of the woman’s laughter. Her mother’s laughter.
Then he came in. A black cloud in their sunshiny kitchen, with heavy black boots that left ugly scrapes across the white linoleum floor.
Beth Anne was pulled against her mother’s chest, where she was comforted by her mother’s soft, steady heartbeat and her fresh milk smell before she was wrenched away, yanked by an arm and roughly shoved into a dining table chair. She heard the slap of palm against skin, and when she looked up, her father was cradling his cheek, the dumbfounded look on his face slowly simmering to white-hot anger.
“You’re going to regret that.”
Bex snapped back to reality, rage surging through her.
“Let her go.”
A slow smile spread across Bex’s father’s face, his lips quirking up maniacally, making her blood run cold.
“Stay out of this, Bethy.”
She took a step forward. “I remember now.”
“Bex, stay back.” Detective Schuster was a hairbreadth behind but Bex shrugged him off, knowing that he had a gun trained on her father. She didn’t care.
“I was there that day in the kitchen.”
The grin that had looked so evil and so full of confidence faltered for a split second.
“Get out of here,” he spat.
“That’s what she told you,” Bex said.
She watched the hatred cut a red streak across her father’s face. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”
She could see Chelsea start to stiffen, could see her begin to blink her eyes, then squint. “Bex?”
“Let her go, Dad.”
The word caught in her throat, her bravado replaced by fear for Chelsea. He was her dad, and he was a murderer. She had put him away once. She would do it again.
“Give up.” In the floodlight around the school, Bex could see the police surrounding the building through the windows. Their guns were drawn. “It’s not your time to be free; it’s mine.”
Everything happened in a blur. The police rushed in, and Chelsea and Bex were rushed out. They were each sitting on the tailgate of separate ambulances, Laney in front of Chelsea with Chelsea’s parents fawning over her. Bex by herself, an itchy blanket slung over her shoulders.
When Detective Schuster walked up, she looked away, embarrassment burning to the tops of her ears.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
Bex looked up incredulously. “Uh, for hiding a criminal. For accusing you of being a serial killer.”
He jammed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Not the first time it’s happened.” He cleared his throat. “I want you to know that I meant what I said. We were looking out for you. You were never on your own.”
“How did you—”
“Keystrokes. We were following your keystrokes.”
Bex blinked, staring at her feet, at the tears that plopped onto the toes of her sneakers. When she looked up, Schuster was looking at her, hard.
“So you knew not to trust me. You knew that I would cave and try to save my father.”
“No. I knew that… Bex, what you did, you risked everything not once, but twice. I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been for you. I wanted to give you every kind of support that I could. Truth is, I never really got over what happened ten years ago.”
“What are you talking about?”
Now Detective Schuster looked away, raked a hand through his hair. “I was young and stupid, a rookie gunslinger. I should never have involved you in your father’s case. It killed me to do it again but I couldn’t… I’ve spent the last ten years proud that I was able to protect you and guilt ridden knowing what making you talk must have done to you. I wanted the chance to make it right. I wanted to do it right this time, but your father…” He looked at Bex, his eyes glistening with moisture. “I was terrified that you’d be his next victim.”
“In a way, I kind of was.”
“Oh my God, Bex!” Denise came running, with Michael on her heels, followed by Trevor. They all swept her into a group hug. Bex didn’t hug them back, dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. Detective Schuster stepped out of the way.
“Hi,” Bex said softly.
“Hi?” Denise cradled Bex’s chin. “She staves off a serial killer and all she says hi?” She plopped a series of loud kisses across Bex’s cheeks and forehead. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”
Trevor stood beside her, looking like he wanted to kiss her too, but he took her hand instead. “You’re incredible.”
“Oh, my girl. I feel like I need to make you seven hamburgers. And pancakes!” Michael pulled her into a rib-crushing bear hug.
“Don’t you think she’s suffered enough?”
“What do you mean you want to cook for me? I… You know that…he’s my father. You don’t have to keep me.”
Denise looked taken aback. “You’re not your father, Bexy. And we know we don’t have to keep you. We care about you. We
want
to keep you.”
Trevor laced his fingers through Bex’s and pulled her to him. She inhaled his soap and cut-grass scent, for once thinking of only Trevor, of only that moment.
“And I
get
to keep you,” he whispered in her ear.
For the first time in her life, Bex Andrews knew she was truly at home.
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As always, I have to acknowledge my incredible agent, Amberly Finarelli, who has always stuck by me, and Andrea Hurst, for being my cheerleader and my champion. Nothing gets by savvy editor Annette Pollert-Morgan, and for that, I am truly grateful!
I wouldn’t be anywhere without my Wednesday writing gang, my awesome SVRWA chapter, and my gym fans who keep me on track (and off the couch!). Extra special thanks to one of my favorite authors and friends, April Henry, for duping me into a kidnapping and stun gunning, all in the name of better stories. Special thanks to all my amazing Wattpad readers and to my summer Teen Writer’s Institute students for inspiring me, and the Hicklebee’s bookstore Teen Authors Board who throw great Halloween parties and let me write on the walls!
Special thanks to Victim’s Advocate Kasey Halcon for letting me pick her brain (your story is coming!), to Lee Lofland for providing me a steady stream of brains to pick, and to Jonathan Hayes for answering inappropriate questions about homicide.
You can’t run from fear…
DON’T MISS HANNAH JAYNE’S
THE ESCAPE