Page 44 of Reckless
“I tried to look them up, tried to reverse search their email address, but nothing came up. I started calling him Mr. Anonymous.”
“Okay,” she said, “and what does all of this have to do with me?”
“Mr. Anonymous wanted me to keep tabs on you.” I paused, let my words sink in. I could tell Jaz was immediately freaked out—and rightly so—so I went on, “He was the reason I followed you to that party.”
Her expression read serious, and yet bitterness laced with her words as she muttered, “Well, I guess I should thank Mr. Anonymous for that, then.” She folded her arms across her chest, nothing more than a thin hoodie around her back. The weather had begun to look up. Midpark winters were never really that harsh to begin with.
“I’m not working for him anymore, but…I’ll admit, it did go on longer than it should’ve,” I finished, already berating myself worse than she ever could. It wasn’t a proud moment for me, when I realized I was in love with Jaz and spying on her for someone else. The very opposite.
“Jacob,” she shook her head, “what if Mr. Anonymous is whoever is trying to set me up? Have you told Ollie about this?”
“No, but I can if you want me to.” The thought had occurred to me before, but in all honesty, Mr. Anonymous could be anyone. It could be her father, for goodness’s sake. There was just no way to know for sure, and I’d rather not make a big show out of nothing.
“I think you should.”
“Then I will.”
Jaz and I headed back to the car; it was about time to start heading back, get her home before nightfall. As we got in the car, Jaz was lost in her own thoughts; I could see it on her face. She was there, but she wasn’t.
It was when I pulled out onto the road that she opened her mouth to say, “If Mr. Anonymous is connected to what’s happening, this might set him off.” She flicked those beautiful dark eyes to me. “He might snap.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. That only meant I’d have to keep an extra eye on her, never let this girl out of my sight.
“There is something I never told you and Ollie,” Jaz said, causing me to glare at her as I drove. “Vaughn handled it, though. It’s…uh…”
“What?” I all but yelled. I shouldn’t yell, I shouldn’t be upset, but at the rate we were going with secrets, the next thing she’d tell me was she really did kill Brittany. I didn’t think she had it in her, but I guess you never really knew what someone was capable of, deep down.
“Someone put a finger in my locker.”
We were lucky no one else was on the road around us, because I had to slam on my breaks when I heard that. The car skidded to a stop, and I whipped my head around to glare at her. “What?” A finger? Like a real fucking finger that should be attached to someone?
What, and I could not possibly stress this enough, the everloving fuck?
Jaz looked uncomfortable. “You know, a finger. Like—” She lifted her hand and bent her middle three fingers on her right hand. “It was one of those, not sure which one, but it was definitely Brittany’s.”
“How’d you know that?”
“The nails,” she said. “She had them at the dance.”
“And why the fuck didn’t you call the cops?” She said Vaughn was handling it—how?
Jaz folded her arms over her chest, muttering, “Can you imagine how they would’ve dragged me out of the high school a second time? That’s what they would’ve done.”
“There are cameras—”
“Sure, unless whoever put it there was able to pay someone off. This is Midpark we’re talking about.”
Right. Cameras meant absolutely nothing when it came to anything, because they could always be turned off or, at the very least, their videos deleted. Still, she should’ve tried. She should’ve come to me if not Oliver, not Vaughn Scott.
“Like I said, Vaughn is handling it,” Jaz muttered, “and there haven’t been any more random parts since then.” She looked behind us. “There’s a car coming up. You better get going or pull off the road, Mr. Grumps.”
I stepped on the gas, practically flooring it. Both her head and mine hit the headrests. My car was up to speed in a matter of seconds, and I started the long drive back to Midpark. This…truth session did not go at all how I thought it would. Parts of it went better, parts of it went worse.
I mean, a fucking finger? Was I supposed to keep that little tidbit to myself? If anyone should know about the finger, it was Oliver. Jaz was right about the possible connection between Mr. Anonymous and what’s happening, but if I was telling Oliver about that, I sure as shit was going to tell him about the finger, too.
Damned girl. She was going to drive me insane.
Chapter Fourteen – Jaz
