Perception (19 page)

OUT OF THE CORNER OF MY EYE, I SAW GABRIEL
approaching. He was patting down his suit jacket with a confused look on his face.

“Hold on,” I told Perry. I put my hand over the phone and asked Gabriel, “What’s wrong?”

“I lost my cell phone. I swore I left it on the table over there, just for a second, while I poured myself a drink. But it’s not there. It’s not anywhere.”

“I’ll help you look for it in a few minutes,” I said. “I’m talking to Perry.”

Gabriel nodded and meandered away through the crowd.

“I’m back. Who was she?” I asked, pressing the cell phone harder against my ear as if that would bring the answers faster.

“Ashleigh Reed was a painter,” Perry said.

“So she
was
famous, just like she said.”

“Well, within a small art scene, yes. She’d been a child prodigy. Amazingly gifted. Her work started selling in galleries when she was only ten. She left the country at age eighteen to go to some fancy-pants art school in Paris.”

Okay, so far nothing mind-blowing. “When did she die?”

“Her first semester in Paris. Five years ago.” He paused. “She was strangled. They never caught who did it, as far as I can see.”

“Just like Sierra Waldman,” I said, in barely a whisper.

My fingers started to tremble as ideas clicked into place. Sierra and Ashleigh were both strangled. And both were extraordinarily talented, though in different mediums.

“There’s something else they have in common,” Perry was saying in my ear. “This is the big one.”

I was almost too scared to ask. “What?”

“Guess what high school Ashleigh graduated from?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Says it right here in the article. Eastport High in Eastport, Massachusetts.”

I felt stunned. Only moments ago, the gym had been hot and steamy. But now, as gooseflesh rippled down my entire body, I shivered as if I’d been dipped in ice. Ashleigh walked these halls, sat in these classrooms, ate in this cafeteria, maybe danced in this gym.

“Are you still there?” Perry said.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“I was saying I’m going to do some more research. See if her graduating class has a page up anywhere. I want to find out as much about her time here in Eastport as I can.”

“Okay, call me back if you find anything.”

I ended the call and stared at the phone as if it were a foreign object. I’d never expected this turn of events. I searched the crowd for someone to tell. Justin and Mallory were out
there on the dance floor having a great time. But I needed Gabriel. His father would want to know about this.

The sounds of screeching feedback shrieked through the gym. I winced. Others covered their ears. Someone yelled, “You suck,” to the DJ.

The DJ smiled sheepishly, the microphone held tightly in his hand. “Now that I’ve got your attention,” he said, and added a nervous laugh, “it’s time for our Homecoming Court to lead us all in a dance.”

I rolled my eyes. Tiffany’s moment of glory. The chosen couples readied themselves to begin, but Brenden stood in the middle of the circle all alone and looking befuddled. I, along with the rest of the crowd, glanced around. Tiffany was nowhere to be found. Odd. Like she’d miss her chance at the spotlight.

I shook my head quickly and started searching for Gabriel again. I was done caring about that crowd and their dumb little dramas. I went out the double doors and into the hallway.

The school at night was like entering an alternate universe. Everything looked the same — the lockers, the classrooms. But the silence made it all feel different. Only half the lights were on. Many of the classroom doors were closed. There was no yelling, laughing, screeching. No crowd to push through. No slamming lockers. Only the dimly lit hall, the muted booming of the music from the gym, and the loud clicking of my heels on the floor.

My cell beeped. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. A text from Gabriel. He must have found his phone.

I opened the text, expecting something along the lines of how he found his phone and didn’t need my help anymore and hey, by the way, did I choose between him and my first love yet? But, instead, there was simply one line:

meet me in the parking lot

Maybe he wanted to plead his case in private rather than in the crowded gym. Or maybe he’d changed his mind and realized he didn’t have to wait around for me, he had his pick of countless girls here or at home. Home. Maybe he was going home. And he wanted to say good-bye.

In any case, I’d have to start talking before he did, because I didn’t want to get into any of that now. I needed to tell him about Ashleigh. We needed to pass on the info to his dad at the police station.

I click-clacked down the hallway as fast as my heels could take me to the side exit. I pushed against the heavy metal door. The temperature had dropped since earlier and the sudden rush of cold air against my bare skin was a shock to my system. I rubbed my exposed arms and shoulders while I peered at the darkness.

My eyes were taking their sweet time to adjust from the lights of the school. The parking lot was spread out and Gabriel’s text was kind of vague, so I headed toward a cluster of cars parked beneath one of the few light poles. I might not be able to see Gabriel, but he’d see me all lit up if I stood under that.

But I’d only taken a few steps in that direction when I heard a quickening of footsteps behind me. Before I could turn, strong arms wrapped around me from behind, and a
damp rag was clamped over my mouth. It smelled sickly sweet with undertones of something chemical. I twisted and struggled, but it was like I was moving in slow motion. The light pole I’d focused on was blurring and swaying. And then I was flying through the air, my feet dangling, my left arm hanging lifeless. No, not flying, I realized. I was being carried.

I was gently laid into a trunk, my limbs bouncing off something familiar. A face hovered over the trunk like an angel of death. I squinted, trying to see who it was, but my mind was too fuzzy with shock and chemicals, and my eyes closed involuntarily. I tried to inch away, but that big familiar thing was next to me and it wouldn’t budge.

The last thing I remembered before the darkness swallowed me was that the familiar thing beside me, touching my skin, felt a lot like a person. A body.

THE FIRST SENSE THAT RETURNED WAS TOUCH
. I was surprisingly comfortable. There was a firm softness beneath my whole body. I was sitting up, leaning back on something, I realized. And even though my mind was yelling, “OPEN YOUR EYES,” I was so tired and comfy that I didn’t want to quite yet.

But my hearing returned next. I heard panicked, rapid breathing and muffled sobs. I was so curious — despite the lure of my comfy cloud — that I opened my eyes.

My vision was blurred. It was dark, but bright light under the closed door leaked into the room, casting shadows on the plain white walls. I leaned forward. I was in a big chair. Some little voice in the back of my mind was screaming, but I didn’t understand why she was scared.

I sat up straight and the room whooshed in and out like a zoom lens. My limbs tingled. I was still so tired. I considered closing my eyes again, but that muffled cry got louder, more insistent, so instead I craned my neck to look around the small room.

I squinted at a girl in a chair, her mouth covered, her hands and feet bound.
I know her
, I thought hazily. Her eyes widened and she bounced against the ropes that held her to the chair. She wanted my help.
Yeah, something’s wrong here
, I thought.
Where am I again?

That tiny voice in the back of my mind got louder and my heart started to speed up. I had a flash of myself waiting outside in the cold parking lot for Gabriel. The chemical-smelling rag over my face. The dark trunk. The body beside me.

I remembered it all in one giant injection of terror.

The text from Gabriel. No. My mind put it together now. Gabriel had lost his phone … And my stalker had swiped it and sent me the text to trick me into going outside.

I remembered I wasn’t alone and stood up to help the girl in the chair. My legs wobbled as I tried to get my balance.

“I was drugged,” I whispered to her apologetically. Though she was the last person on earth who deserved my help.

Tiffany nodded quickly. Up close I could see her eyes were red and puffy. Black mascara streaks ran down her cheeks. I remembered wondering why she’d missed her big moment as the Homecoming Court was called to the dance floor. She’d been taken already. Tossed in the trunk.

Adrenaline rushed through my body, giving me strength and clearing the clouds left behind from whatever had been on that rag. I quickly untied the gag and pulled it from Tiffany’s mouth.

“What’s going on?” she asked in a whisper-scream. “Someone kidnapped us!”

“I know,” I whispered. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

The room was small and plain-looking, with nothing on the walls. There was only an empty closet, a desk, my comfy chair, and the hard chair Tiffany was tied to. Also, no windows. What kind of room had no windows?

Wait. My eyes returned to the desk, and a sick realization came over me.

It wasn’t just a desk. It was
the
desk. The dark cherry wood one in my vision. The one Sierra had written her note on. Sierra had been in this room.

My stalker was Sierra’s killer. It wasn’t a harmless person with creepy social skills. It was a deranged killer. Who’d first murdered Ashleigh Reed. Then Sierra Waldman. And now, he had me.

“Why are you just standing there?” Tiffany said. “Do something!”

I had to focus. I slipped out of my heels and padded across the rug to the door. I reached out for the knob.

“Be quiet about it,” Tiffany pleaded.

I nodded, then tried to turn the knob slowly. “It’s locked.”

I looked around, but there was no sign of my purse. He must have taken it away or left it in the parking lot.

“Do you have your cell?” I asked.

Tiffany shook her head. Her chest rose and fell quickly as her breaths started to come faster. “He’s going to kill us. We’re going to die in here.”

“We’re not,” I said. “We’ll figure something out before he gets back.”

“I can’t believe this is happening. Who would do this?” Tiffany said between deep, painful-sounding breaths.

“Please, Tiffany, be quiet.”

“Why did he tie me up, but he didn’t tie you up?”

I was wondering the same thing, but shushed her. “I don’t want him to hear us and come back. I need more time.”

“He’s going to … chop us up … kill us …” Tiffany was hyperventilating now, her breaths coming in ragged spurts between gory details of our soon-to-come violent deaths.

I leaned forward and slapped her across the face. Probably a bit harder than I needed to, but it worked. The slap shocked her into silence and she stopped her hysterical babbling.

“Panicking isn’t going to help us,” I said. “We have to come up with a strategy.” I loosened the ropes around her ankles and hands. “Keep your arms behind you. Pretend you’re still tied if he comes in.”

I stood and gazed around the room. There was a closet in the corner. It was locked, but the knob was one of those flimsy, cheap ones. I yanked a pin out of Tiffany’s hair.

“Ouch!”

I shushed her again and got to work. The lock turned easily and I swung the door open. The closet held only one thing: a box. I slid it out and took the top off. I was hoping for a gun or a phone or something useful, but it contained only mementos — like ticket stubs and dried flowers.

“We have nothing to use as a weapon,” Tiffany said with some semblance of calm finally leaking into her voice.

“I have one thing.” To give us a chance to get out of this alive, I had to get into the killer’s head. Understand his insanity.

I worked quickly, giving each item only five to ten seconds before I gave up and moved on to the next. I picked up a dead pressed rose and a vision floated to the surface, dim and yellowed like old newspaper. I saw a girl spinning in a flowing skirt. We were at a school dance together. I held a rose in my hand that I couldn’t wait to give to her. The long blond hair matched Perry’s description of Ashleigh, but even without that, I’d have known it was her. I was overwhelmed with strong feelings. I adored her. She was the only thing that mattered to me. The only thing that got me through each day at this hellhole of a school. I worried slightly about what would happen after we graduated, but pushed the thought away. We’d be together forever. By the way Ashleigh returned my smile, I knew she loved me, too. I just hoped that love would never die.

The vision evaporated. I put the rose back down and sifted through a few other items until I picked up a red headband. An image rushed forward. Clearer and fresher than the other. I was watching Sierra, alone in the music room at school, playing the piano. She was so unbelievably talented, she took my breath away. This was the first time I’d felt so sure about someone since Ashleigh.

Sierra needed me. She had no friends. Her parents ignored her. I would take care of her. I walked up behind her and softly caressed her hair.

She jumped and the music abruptly stopped.
“Oh, it’s you,”
she said with a nervous smile.

“I hope you don’t mind that I was listening.”

That voice. I knew that voice. I didn’t want to focus too much on it, though, and pull out of the vision. If I could just hear it one more time.

“Of course not,”
Sierra said, blushing and twirling a strand of hair around her index finger.

“Are you still coming tonight? To my house like we planned?”

She straightened and pursed her lips. Trying to look older, sexy.
“I can’t wait.”

“You’re special, you know.”
I placed the headband on her head. She smiled at my little gift. She was so appreciative of any scrap of attention I gave her. I loved that about her.
“You’re amazing.”

The vision ended with a jolt as he’d let go of the headband, and I realized why I recognized the voice. Who he was. But I didn’t want to believe it.

“What?” Tiffany said, realizing from my gasp that I’d discovered something.

“It’s Mr. Rylander.” My voice sounded small and far away.

Tiffany’s mouth opened in silent surprise. I needed to focus on a solution, a way out, but all I kept thinking was how shocked I was. And how all the pieces fit.

Mr. Rylander was the one Sierra began spending all her time with once she started school. I remembered seeing the tests in her bedroom. The low scores in math but perfect in science. Maybe he’d tutored her and that’s how it started.

He’d been attracted to Sierra because she was astonishingly talented, like Ashleigh had been. But then things took a
turn somewhere. Maybe she changed her mind and he killed her. Like he’d killed Ashleigh.

That’s why Ashleigh broke through when Perry was doing the reading for Sierra’s mother. Perry could usually contact a spirit only when they were connected to the person he was with. But Ashleigh never came through clearly. The connection was thin. She didn’t know Mrs. Waldman. She didn’t know me. But she knew what her ex-boyfriend was up to. And she’d tried to warn us. She came through the loudest as Perry and I drove past Rylander’s cottage and I had my car accident. As Rylander was putting his trash can in his truck to take to the dump.

I covered my mouth with my hands. Sierra’s body was found in the dump. He was probably loading her when we came crashing through his fence.

Ashleigh tried. She tried hard to stop it from happening again. But now I was here, in his room. A science teacher could easily get his hands on a chemical that would render a person unconscious, like what had been on the rag in the parking lot. I always knew he’d been a student at Eastport High. That day he’d told me about how he was also bullied, I thought he was showing concern, not bonding over our similarities. I thought about some of his lectures in class and how sometimes I felt they were meant for me. When he spoke of magnetism and attraction, I’d been thinking about Justin and Gabriel. And when he’d spoken of momentum and things put in motion that could not be stopped, I’d thought he was talking about my own life. He was … but just in a different way. I’d misread my own instincts.

Tiffany was still babbling incoherently. I could barely hear her through the rush of blood in my ears. If I wanted to survive this, I had to pull myself together. Screaming would do nothing. Assuming we were in Rylander’s house on Cottage Row, there was no one around us in the off-season. Giving us no chance for rescue. At the dance, they might not have even realized I was missing yet. No one knew where I was.

“I need to tell you something,” Tiffany said insistently. “I don’t want to die without telling you the truth.”

“We’re not going to die,” I said, rubbing my forehead.

“The night I hooked up with Justin —”

I put my hand up to stop her. “I don’t want to hear this again. We’re locked in a psychopath’s room. We don’t have time to fight about —”

“We didn’t have sex,” Tiffany blurted.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Thoughts rushed and collided so furiously through my head that I couldn’t even string words together to make a sentence.

When I didn’t speak, Tiffany continued, “We just kissed and then he passed out. While he was sleeping, I took his clothes off. When he woke up the next morning, I told him we’d had sex.”

I drew each word out slowly. “Why would you do that?”

“To get back at Perry for humiliating me. I really liked him and he just used me and dropped me. If I couldn’t hurt him, hurting his sister was the second best thing. It was an awful, kind of insane thing to do.” She paused and let out a choked sob. “I’m sorry. Not just because we’re going to die here together, but because it was a terrible thing. And I let
both of you go on thinking it was worse than it was.” She looked up at me with wet eyes.

It had never happened. I’d cried so many nights. Felt humiliation. Dumped Justin. Hated him for months. Over something that had never happened.

“What do you expect me to do now?” I snapped. “Give you a hug and say all is forgiven?”

“No, I just … I needed to confess in case —”

“We’re not going to die. Not if you shut up and let me think.”

I couldn’t process the truth about her and Justin. This wasn’t the time or place for it, so I hid it away in a little drawer in the back of my mind, marked
DEAL WITH LATER
.

I had to find a way to save my life first.

I brought my palms up to the side of my head, trying to think above the throbbing.

“I hear footsteps,” Tiffany whispered. “He’s coming.”

Tiffany assumed her position on the chair. I shoved the box back into the closet, returned to my chair, and sat straight up.

The lock jiggled as a key was inserted. Then a click. My senses were amplified. My fingers tingled, gripping the upholstery beneath them. My heart hammered loudly from within my chest. The door slowly creaked open and the shaft of light from the hallway blinded my widened eyes. Then it slammed shut quickly, and we were once again plunged into darkness. I willed myself to slow my breathing.

He was inside. With us.