Twisted by Hannah Jayne(51)

But Bex wanted them to leave. She’d wanted them to leave the second she saw Beth Anne Reimer’s Missing photo. It wasn’t a coincidence. Someone wasn’t just playing around. Beth Anne Reimer had never gone missing. Whoever had stuck the posters on Bex’s car knew who she was and had spent the time creating Beth Anne’s poster. The thought burned a hole low in Bex’s gut and she chewed the inside of her lip, going through a mental contacts list.

Had Zach found out who she was, and the posters were his reality-show way of making her admit it? Did Detective Schuster think she needed an extra nudge to cooperate? Had someone on the Forum figured out who she was and where she lived? Bex shivered, the last possibility driving a knife-sharp icicle into the center of her heart. Was it her father, playing some kind of sick game?

“You guys should go,” Bex said quickly. “I mean before it gets super late.”

She wanted them to get in Laney’s car and drive for as long and as far as they possibly could. She wanted them to drive out of Kill Devil Hills, out of the last weeks of her life. She wanted her friends to be out of danger. Again, the image of Darla on the beach floated back to her, and Bex shuddered.

“Only if you’re sure,” Laney said carefully.

“She’s fine, Lane. It was a bunch of stupid posters. Paper can’t hurt her. Unless it’s a paper cut, and those things can hurt like—”

Laney grabbed Chelsea by the arm. “We’ll go.”

Bex let herself into the house, slowly creaking the door open and looking around like a criminal. She felt as though she were a trespasser in her own home. No, that horrible voice whispered, your home is with your father.

Once she was in her bedroom, Bex glanced at her laptop, pinching her upper lip.

“I tried,” she whispered to herself. “He’s not looking for me.”

Or maybe Detective Schuster had been wrong all along about her father, and he didn’t really kill all those women. Maybe her father fled because he was innocent. Maybe Zach had discovered who she was and just wanted a great story. Bex was nodding her head as hope swelled inside her. Maybe everything had just gotten turned around, and Bex—Beth Anne, rather—could have a real and regular life with a father and a mother and a home and without the need to lie. Maybe…

“Phone,” she said while rummaging through her purse. “Phone, phone, phone…” The readout on the face said 12:41. Too late to call Detective Schuster.

“Laptop.”

Bex opened it, running her fingertips over the track pad to wake up the screen. When she did, she saw the message.

GAMECREATOR: Is it really you, Bethy?

That hope that had swelled from a flicker to a flame in a few short seconds was snuffed out just as quickly.

No one else called her Bethy. Not when she was Beth Anne Reimer, not ever.

There was no joy. There was only terror, tinged with anger and hate.

Once again her father had turned her life upside down. He was on the site just like Detective Schuster had said he would be—because serial killers crave praise.

But-but-but… that little voice started. He was looking for me! He made the connection!

“No.” Bex licked her lips. “So he knows a pet name. He’s not real. He’s another imposter.”

She clicked the message icon and a single meager line toppled out.

What do you put on your pancakes?

Bex didn’t think. She typed.

Powdered sugar. By the bucketful.

She hit Send before she second-guessed herself. She waited for a response.

She waited all night.

? ? ?

Bex was poking at the soggy remains of her cereal when Denise came in the front door. Michael fixed a mug of coffee for each of them while Denise popped out her earbuds and sat down across from Bex.

“I’m telling you, Bex. A morning run feels amazing. You should come with me sometime.” She glanced at her husband and smiled. “Unless you’re like Michael here, who prefers to get his exercise by osmosis.”

Michael feigned offense. “I’ll have you know that whenever I go to the grocery store, I park very far from the front door!”

“That’s actually a great way to get extra steps in. Do you do that at work too?”

Michael globbed a knifeful of butter onto his bagel. “I’m not trying to be a hero.”

“What about you, Bex? Join me sometime? We could make it a girl thing.”

“Yeah.” Bex nodded. “That might be fun.”

“Oh, hey. How come you aren’t wearing your new necklace?”

Bex’s hands went to her throat but she didn’t answer.

“The silver heart,” Denise clarified. “That Trevor gave you.”

Bex felt her cheeks warm. “Trevor said he didn’t leave it.”

Michael crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Do you have another admirer? Am I going to have to buy a shotgun?”

“I actually don’t know who would have sent it. It’s weird.”

Denise snaked Michael’s bagel and took a bite, licking the butter from her fingers. “It was probably one of the girls then. You should wear it to school today.”

“I don’t know. It just seems—”

“If it’s not Trevor, it’s got to be Laney or Chelsea. Wear it. Show it off. It looks great on you.”