These Deadly Games(87)

Desperation clawed at my throat. Where was she?

Another door across the room stood wide open. I raced over, disappointment instantly flooding my chest. It was a tiny utility room containing just the furnace and water tank. There was a low hissing, and I noticed a pipe bent at a weird angle. That’s where the gas was coming from. Ugh.

“Caelyn,” I whispered one last time. But she wasn’t here. Dylan must’ve been keeping her upstairs.

I’d have to creep past the living room after all.

I tiptoed up the stairs and pressed my ear against the door. I couldn’t hear any footsteps. Had Dylan stopped pacing? What was he doing now? Maybe he’d left. There was only one way to find out.

Practically vibrating with nerves, I inched the door open, holding my breath, careful not to let the hinges creak, and edged toward the foyer. The main staircase was by the front door. I’d have to go directly past the living room. I stilled, listening.

Tic-a-tic-tap.

He was typing.

Frustration pulsed through me. No matter how stealthy I’d been so far, there was no way I could pass the living room without him spotting me. All he had to do to stop me was strike a match, and the whole house would spontaneously combust or something. I hated confrontation, but I had to reason with him. I had to try to convince him to let my sister go.

I crept toward the living room. He sat on the couch, laptop on his lap. With one last deep breath, I held my chin high and strode into the room.

This, he wasn’t expecting.

His mouth dropped open. “Crystal? How…” He threw off his headphones and, squinting, felt around for his glasses, found them on the coffee table, and slid them on. But of course, he didn’t need them. He never did. “You know where I live.”

“Obviously.”

He shook his head, befuddled. Then his posture relaxed, like he was relieved. “Thank God you’re okay.” He set his laptop on the coffee table and scrambled to his feet. “Why haven’t you been answering your texts—”

I cut him off. “Where’s Caelyn?”

He tilted his head, frowning. “Uh … I have no idea. You said she was on a field trip, right?” He started toward me. “I can’t believe you went after Fishman anyway—”

“Enough!” I sidestepped him, maintaining our distance. “Just drop the act, okay?”

“What act?” His gray eyes were wide, pleading. “Crystal, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Did you hear about Akira?” Akira. My heart clenched. Akira was dead, wasn’t she? This sadistic sociopath had killed her. “They found her at the bottom of—”

“Stop it!” Seeds of doubt needled my mind, but I refused to let them sprout. I was wrong about Zoey, but this time, I knew the truth. I’d seen evidence. I wouldn’t let him fool me any longer. “I know you took her.”

“Took who? Akira?”

“No, Caelyn! Just give her back, okay? I won’t tell anyone what you did. I’ll take the fall for everything. You can even kill me if you want, just, please, let my sister go. She has nothing to do with—”

“Whoa!” Dylan’s eyes went wide as silver dollars. “Why would I kill you? What the hell are you talking about? You think I took your sister? As in … you think I kidnapped her?” He wiped a hand down his face. “How could you think that? Crystal, you know me. You know I’d never do something like that.”

“I do know you.” My entire body trembled—not from fear but rage. “I know exactly who you are, Andrew.”

Hearing the name made him go as still as a statue except for the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

“So, where is she?” I pressed. “Where are you keeping her?”

There was a long pause as he studied me, like I was a Rubik’s Cube and he was searching for the sequence to solving me. His eyes widened for a nanosecond as he realized there was no solution.

Then his jaw clenched. “Why do you think I’d tell you? You haven’t won yet.”





CHAPTER 37


My first impulse was to punch Dylan in the face. How hard would I have to throw my fist to dislocate that sharp jaw? I didn’t, though—instead I balled my fingers and said, “If you think I’m going to keep playing this psychotic game, you’re out of your mind.”

He chuckled. “You know what? I’m kind of impressed. How’d you find me, anyway?”

“How about I ask the questions? Where the hell is my sister?” So much for reasoning with him.

“Calm down, alright? She’s fine.” Relief spread through me like a cool stream over dried grass—until someone bent the hose. How could I believe a single word he said? “Well?” he prodded. “How’d you figure it out?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “You made Brady’s name an anagram. I mean, come on. Lance Burdly? Really?” Dylan’s cheek muscles twitched, and he muttered a curse. “Did you not think I’d catch that?”

“Not so quickly.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought maybe someday, sitting in jail, you’d piece it together, but…” So he did mean to frame me. “Still, how’d you know it was me?”

“You left your mother’s Facebook page active.” I had to stop myself from adding dumbass. “There were pictures.”