To Catch a Killer(65)

—VICTOR FLEMMING


I wake up in my attic about 3:00 a.m., shivering from the cold.

My emotions—like the battery in my phone—are completely drained. I slip down the ladder into my bedroom and listen for a second. The house is silent. I put my phone on the charger, slip off my jeans, and fall into bed. Then there’s nothing until my alarm wakes me at seven.

After three snooze cycles, I’m dressed and downstairs. Both Rachel and Victor are gone. There’s a folded piece of paper in front of my spot at the table. ERIN is scrawled on the outside in Rachel’s handwriting. I open it.

I didn’t mean any of that the way it sounded. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

? Rachel.

Somewhere inside I do know.

I grab a couple of PowerBars from Rachel’s stash and head out the door. I make it all the way to the bottom of the stairs before I remember.… Damn it.

No scooter.

Really? How effed up is this? I can completely forget that my scooter is a mess of tangled metal, but every time I close my eyes I still see Miss P the way she looked that night. There’s no way I will make it to school on time.

I hit the driveway moving fast. Maybe I can launch myself into a wormhole, and then through some miracle of time and space, magically arrive on campus just before the tardy bell. As that absurd thought pops into my mind, a familiar van rumbles across the end of my driveway and stops.

Journey opens the passenger door and his brilliant, crooked smile beckons. My feet barely touch the ground as I rush to the van, toss my bag between the seats, and climb in. “You are my knight in rusty steel.”

“Happy to oblige, m’lady,” he says.

I settle in and fumble for my seat belt. Journey is so quiet that I’m hit with a sudden pang of concern. I look up and find him staring at me.

“What’s wrong?” The air between us fills with dread.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he replies.

“I’m fine.…”

His expression doesn’t change. If anything, he looks even more serious.

He leans toward me, sliding his hand over the back of my seat and up into my hair. He buries his fingers in the strands. As he closes the space between us, a warm flush spreads over my body. His breath tickles my cheek. I try to focus on where I should put my hands.

I tilt my head forward, allowing strands of my hair to mingle with his. My eyes flutter closed as his lips crush against mine. I hold perfectly still, hoping time will do the same.

Finally, even though I’m not ready, he breaks the spell and pulls away.

We don’t go far, staying face-to-face, a few inches apart, our breathing matched and ragged. His eyes are soft and full of questions. My lips tingle with the memory of his.

“You weren’t online last night,” he whispers. “And you didn’t reply to any of my Snapchats. I was worried.”

My phone? I pat my pockets. It’s still on the charger. “Hold on. Don’t move.” I leap out of the van and race back into the house, up the stairs. I grab my phone off the charger, then I stop and check my reflection in the mirror. My face is splotchy and dotted with beads of sweat. But it doesn’t matter, Journey Michaels just kissed that face.

I race back down the stairs and throw myself into the van.

Journey offers a hand to help me in. “So what happened?”

“Last night? Rachel and I kind of got into it, so I went to sleep early. That’s all.”

“About me?”

“No. This was some other weird family drama. Sorry you were worried.”

He puts the van into gear and we rumble off toward school. “But everything’s okay, right?” He glances sideways at me.

I nod, tipping my head slightly right and left. Should I tell him my suspicions about Chief Culson? Rachel says she was with him. And she has no reason to lie. Which probably means I’m wrong. But still … questions about the chief nag at me.

“What do you know about Chief Culson?” I ask.

“Only that he’s a giant a-hole,” Journey replies, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel.

“Really?”

“He was involved in my father’s case. He wasn’t chief then, but my mother said he never cared about the evidence, only the results. Why, what are you thinking?”

“I don’t want to say just yet. But I have a feeling about him.”

Journey pulls into a space in the school parking lot and turns off the engine. Instead of getting out of the car, he turns toward me again, taking my hand in both of his and rubbing my fingers. For a brief moment I wonder if he’s going to kiss me again. But instead he pulls back.

“I thought we were partners? A team?”

“We are.” I squeeze his hand. “I just need to think things through a little more, then I’ll tell you. I promise.”

His quick nod says okay, but I can tell that it’s not. He gets out on his side, then comes around and opens my door. He offers his hand to steady me as I step down.

Neither of us has much to say as we walk toward the school buildings, but he does drape his arm over my shoulders, which is a first.

Suddenly, my worldview has changed. I get to experience what it’s like to be Journey. Everyone he passes offers a nod, or a high five. Small gifts of food are still involved. This time, instead of being invisible girl walking, I’m part of the show.