The Dead List (14 page)

But Gavin’s warning from the day before was never too far from my thoughts. Jensen had broken my heart once before, and that’s why he was so dangerous for me, because that was the last thing I wanted to experience again.

My heart didn’t have control over me, though. It wasn’t like grabbing something to eat was a declaration of undying love or that I would think too much into it. “Okay.”

His lips curved into a sexy smile. “Good.”

Feeling a little out of it due to the change of plans, I left to slip on my shoes and grab my bag that I had brought in with me. The nervous hum of energy was back, whizzing through me like a hyper hummingbird.

Jensen locked up and as we stepped out in the hall, he draped his arm over my shoulder. The light citrusy scent of his cologne enveloped me. I clenched the strap on my bag, telling myself this was completely normal behavior. Gavin did it all the time.

“Relax,” he murmured directly into my ear. “I’m not going to bite you or something.”

Apparently, I wasn’t acting like this was normal behavior.

“Unless you’re into that,” he added in a low voice.

My head snapped toward his, and I sucked in a breath at how close our mouths were. His was tipped into a mischievous grin.

“That was pretty cheesy, wasn’t it?” His thumb moved along my upper arm.

My lips twitched. “It was pretty cheesy. Also kind of creepy. Makes me think of a zombie.”

“So, if I’m trying to get a beautiful girl to relax around me, offering to take a little bite out of them isn’t going to win me any points.”

“Probably not,” I said, and I started to smile, but his head tilted in a way that lined our mouths up. If he just lowered his head a few more inches, well, we’d definitely be doing a lot of things friends did not do.

As he continued to stare down at me, something shifted in Jensen, like it had when we sat on the couch. The playfulness was still there, but the muscles in his arm tensed, and with a little coaxing, he drew me closer. Maybe an inch or two separated our bodies. I felt a little dizzy staring into his eyes.

“Well, I’m going to have to come up with something else,” he murmured lazily.

“Like what?”

“Hmm…” His chin dropped another inch. So close. “Maybe a milkshake.”

I laughed. “A milkshake?”

“Yeah. The diner across from here? They have awesome milkshakes. And cheese sandwiches.”

My stomach grumbled. “I love me some grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“I know.”

That was sweet. “I think I like where this is—”

A throat cleared. I drew back, glancing toward the entrance to the building. Deputy Jordan stood there, his form blotting out the light streaming in from the doors behind him.

Unease blossomed in the pit of my stomach. The look on his face was hard. Not like the friendly expression Shaw had worn yesterday. He was working.

Jensen’s arm slipped off my back, but he moved closer, slightly in front of me. “What’s going on, Shaw?”

The casual way he spoke to the deputy told me he had some kind of relationship with the guy. Then it struck me. Shaw had remembered me from… from before, which probably meant he’d remembered Jensen. Had they stayed in contact all these years? Or did Jensen remember that Shaw was Gavin’s older cousin?

Shaw strode forward. “I need to talk to Ella.”

“Why?” he asked, moving so he entirely blocked my body from the cop’s.

Having no idea what was causing this response, and not wanting him to get in trouble, I stepped aside, meeting the deputy’s dark gaze. “What’s going on?”

Shaw stopped in front of us. “I have some questions I need to ask after the most recent event.”

“Most recent?” I glanced at Jensen and then the deputy, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Surprise flitted across his face. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” Jensen asked, stiffening.

Shaw scratched his jaw. “Well, hell, I thought you would’ve heard by now. Monica Graham is missing.”

In a daze, I followed Deputy Jordan into some kind of meeting room off the main hall of the warehouse that smelled of burnt coffee. By the thin layer of dust on the brown table, the room hadn’t been in use for a while. Jensen sat beside me in an uncomfortable metal folding chair.

“She was last seen yesterday evening, visiting a friend’s house after cheerleading practice,” Deputy Shaw explained. “She’d left her friend’s house in her car, but she didn’t return home last night, and no one has heard from her since. Normally, missing person reports aren’t filed within twenty-four hours, but in light of the recent events, we don’t want to wait.”

I thought of Vee Bartol, who would be missing three weeks come this Saturday, and then I thought of how ragged Wendy had looked this morning, which could’ve explained her appearance. Monica’s parents had probably contacted Wendy last night, and she’d been more concerned about her friend than how she looked.

Now I felt bad for how I thought of her this morning.

“God,” I said, because I didn’t know what to say. “You really think she’s missing? That she didn’t just go somewhere?” After I said that, I realized how stupid that sounded. What seventeen- or eighteen-year-old just up and left?

Shaw shook his head as he leaned back, the vest under his shirt creaking. Perched on the edge of the table, he folded his hands in his lap as he stared down at us. “It’s not impossible.”

“But, unlikely. God, this is terrible.”

Jensen’s hand found mine under the table. After threading his fingers around mine, he squeezed gently. “It is terrible, and I don’t mean to sound like a total jackass.”

A wry grin formed on Shaw’s lips. “But knowing you, you’re going to anyway.”

So they really,
really
did know each other.

“What does this have to do with Ella?” he asked, looking Shaw dead on.

My heart turned over as I met Shaw’s steady gaze. “It’s because of the attack Saturday night? The police think it’s related to Monica’s disappearance?”

“We have the state, county, and city departments involved in this,” answered Shaw. “We’re chasing down any possible lead we could have, which leads me to you.”

Drawing in a deep breath, I nodded. “Okay.”

“It’s unlikely that what happened to you has anything to do with Monica’s disappearance, but I think it’s smart to check out every possible avenue.”

“That makes sense,” I whispered.

“So we’re taking everything into consideration, and I know you’ve already given your statement to the state police, but if you could walk me through what happened, it might shine some light on what’s going on now. It might give us some answers. And maybe, if this does have anything to do with what happened to you, it could help Monica.”

Jensen’s grip on my hand tightened as he leaned forward. “Is it really necessary for her to go through that again?”

It was the last thing I wanted to do, but if talking about Saturday could help Monica, then I could deal with it. “It’s okay,” I said, taking a deep breath, preparing myself. “I can do this.”

Jensen looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t stop me as I began to tell my story. It wasn’t easy, because it was all too real, too fresh, and I wasn’t sure if a day would ever come that it didn’t feel that way. I pulled my hand free from his hold and wrapped my arms around my stomach, stopping the chill that kept racing up and down my spine. When I got to the part where I’d been able to get free, Shaw was listening with rapt attention, not missing a single detail, and Jensen reached under the table, placing a comforting hand on my knee. The contact grounded me in reality, in the right now.

“And then…” I glanced over at Jensen, who was watching me closely. “And then I remember Jensen picking me up and… and that’s it.”

Shaw nodded slowly. “And there was absolutely no way you saw his face or any distinguishing characteristics?”

I shook my head as my shoulders slumped. “The mask and wig stayed in place. To be honest, like Trooper Ritter pointed out, it could’ve been a girl for all I know.” Tired, I reached up, rubbing the heels of my hands against my eyes. “I know that’s no help whatsoever.”

“No, it’s help,” he said, giving me a reassuring smile when I lowered my hands. “Now, a few nights ago, a call came into dispatch about a possible intruder at your home. The report filed said there was no sign of a break-in, but you said that the mask-the same kind the attacker was wearing was on your bed and there was a note, saying something along the lines of it ‘being your fault?’”

Jensen stared at me. “What? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Crap. “I… the cops didn’t find anything, so I thought it was just my imagination. The window wasn’t open and there was no mask on the bed when the police got there.” My gaze swung back to Shaw. “I told myself it
was
my imagination, but I also think it’s kind of hard to imagine all of that.”

Shaw didn’t answer that immediately, and when he did, it was totally vague. Unease grew, shimmering through me. What if that thing had been in my house? I knew it was possible, but I’d been able to convince myself otherwise over the last couple of days. A shudder worked its way through my body, and Jensen’s hand shifted, his fingers curling around my knee.

“How close were you to Monica?” Shaw asked.

“I wasn’t at all.”

His forehead creased. “But you went to school together since elementary, correct?”

“Yes.” It was a little weird realizing that Shaw had done his homework. Then again, in a town this size, it wasn’t hard to make the assumption that we’d grown up together. “But we were never close. We hung out in different crowds and she wasn’t always…” I trailed off, thinking it would be work to finish that sentence.

“She wasn’t what?” he coaxed gently.

I pressed my lips together. Monica, like Wendy and Shawna, had never been particularly nice to people. Up until this week, I’d never had a problem with any of them, but….

“Monica is popular, but she isn’t the nicest girl,” Jensen answered truthfully, saving me from having to be the one to talk bad about her. “She had a tendency… ever since middle school, to pick on other kids.”

“Like Penn Deaton?” Shaw asked.

I pressed back against the chair at the sound of his name. Hearing it roll over the deputy’s tongue floored me.

“Yeah, like Penn,” Jensen muttered, fixing his gaze on the wall over Shaw’s decision.

The question might’ve sounded abnormal to anyone else, but it had been common knowledge after… after everything, that Penn had been relentlessly bullied. Till this day, I could list those who, for whatever reason, had made Penn’s life a living hell.

Monica Graham.

Brock Cochran.

Mason Brown.

Wendy Brewer.

My eyes widened as my stomach dropped to my toes. There was one more, and her name… her name was Vee Bartol. Until whatever stupid thing that had come between Vee and Monica during our freshman year, those two had been thick as thieves.

Vee was missing. So was Monica.

But there were two more names I could add to that list. And although those two names-those two people-hadn’t bullied Penn, they had let him down. They had failed him.

“Do you think… do you think he has anything to do with Monica?” I asked, unable to say his name out loud.

“Not really,” Shaw replied. “But knowing how everything turned out with Penn Deaton gives me a better understanding of what kind of person Monica Graham is.”

His response should’ve relaxed me, but I was turning it over in my head, lost in my own thoughts until Shaw spoke again.

“What about you, Jensen?” he asked. “From what I understand, you’ve been friends with Monica, and when we spoke to Wendy at school today, she listed you as one of her friends. Do you have an idea why Monica might want to leave home, or if she was having problems with anyone?”

Jensen pulled his hand away as he rocked back in the chair, folding his arms. “Monica and I weren’t that close, and honestly, when Wendy mentioned her not coming home last night while we were at lunch, I didn’t think much of it.”

He’d known that Monica was missing at lunch and hadn’t said anything?

He shrugged one shoulder. “Her and Brock have been dating on and off for a while. If anyone knows why Monica might want to skip town, it would be him.”

Shaw nodded again. “We’ve spoken with him and there still are several other people we need to meet with.” He looked over at me, smiling slightly. “I don’t want you to be overly concerned. Like I’d said, there is a small chance this has anything to do with what happened to you.”

But there was no stopping the next though. The guy hadn’t managed to grab me, but had gotten to Monica. My stomach roiled. I felt like hurling.

“Even if these things are related, the likelihood of him coming back after you is rare,” he continued. “In any case I can think of, the attacker has never gone after a victim that got away.”

Victim. I hated that label, but what I hated more was the idea that Vee hadn’t run away and that Monica hadn’t run off without telling someone. That what happened to me Saturday night was connected to Vee, and now Monica, and that meant that the attacker was hanging around, and visions of serial killers and the like danced in my head.

This couldn’t be real.

I lived in a town were virtually nothing happened. Cows escaped farms and ended up on the Interstate. People got arrested because they were driving ATVs on the main roads. Sure, we had a drug problem, we had crime, and the random shooting here and there happened, but we were a safe community compared to other cities.

“There was a mask in my locker today,” I recalled suddenly. “I have no idea how that slipped my mind, but when I opened my locker before I left the school there was one in there.”

The deputy’s gaze sharpened. “What?”

I told him again about the mask in my locker. “One of the teachers took it. Mr. Holden. He said it was a prank, just like the cardinal in Wendy-”

“We were told about the cardinal by the administration at the school, but as far as I know, no one knows about the mask,” he said. “This is needed information. Thank you.”

Shaw didn’t have any more questions, and the three of us walked out together. Shaw called Jensen over to him for what was obviously private. “Wait for me?” Jensen requested.