Page 57 of Reckless
“Jacob Hall,” Ollie said. “I assume you know him.”
The detective blinked, clearly not having expected that answer. “Of course I do. He used to be a part of the force, when Celeste escaped her captor. How is she doing, by the way?”
“Good” was all Ollie said on that matter.
“He did not leave with a sparkling record,” Detective Wilde went on, “but it’s something.”
I was asked a few more questions before Ollie and I were allowed to go, and I did my best to answer. This…I had no idea what happened, truly. This came as a shock to me, and my mind didn’t know how to process it. You’d think, after everything, this wouldn’t terrify me to my core, but it did.
I was such a hypocrite. I had gotten used to the fact that Vaughn and Dante had gotten their hands bloodied, but now Deetra and Chelsea? Neither one of them claimed Brittany, and I knew if they’d have done it, they would’ve told me.
No, this meant there was another killer out there, someone who wanted to make me look bad. But who?
I spent the day in a daze. Ollie called Jacob, informed him of what happened, and sent him to the police station to speak with Detective Wilde. Mom was frantic, swearing up and down that I’d never leave the house again—to which I was starting to agree. As much as I didn’t want to be locked up here, it seemed like each and every time I went out, people ended up dead.
Granted, I wouldn’t shed a tear over those people, but still.
I lay in my room, texting anyone I could. Archer, Vaughn, Dante, even Jacob. Jacob didn’t answer me much, because he was at the station, but I couldn’t help to wonder when they’d bring Archer in. And Dante, because he’d been there, too.
Shit.
I even texted Bobbi, freaking the fuck out. I could not sit still, could not do anything but worry. Worry, worry, worry, I probably lost a good decade or two of my life to worry and stress so far; the longer this went on, the more seriously I debated the fact of if I’d get out of Midpark alive.
Right now, it certainly didn’t look like it. The end of this story would be me, bleeding out, finally seeing the face of the killer who’d framed me for Brittany’s death and given me her finger as a gift.
It was as I was in the middle of texting Bobbi back—telling her the news, since it sounded like her dad hadn’t yet—when my phone screen lit up with Dante’s name.
I sat up, answering it right away: “Hello?”
“Babe,” Dante spoke hurriedly, “I wanted it to be a surprise, but—” For a split second there, I actually thought he was going to admit that he’d done it after all, that his psycho tendencies had gotten to be too much for him last night, and he’d killed both Chelsea and Deetra in a fit of rage because they’d said something horrible about me, as they often did. “—I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill them.”
My lungs let out a sigh. That was a relief to hear, and yet also more troubling, because it meant their killer was still out there, somewhere, wearing a face no one knew.
“I did, uh, do something else, though.”
If I could’ve slapped him for being stupid, I would’ve. “Do I even want to know?”
Dante coughed on the other line. “I might’ve had some stuff on me, just in case. I knew you’ve had it out for them, just like you had it out for Brittany. Since Brittany’s dead and gone, well, I figured might as well use it on them when I had the chance—”
My free hand squeezed the blanket I laid on, and I spoke through gritted teeth, “What did you do?” Every word I said was a whisper, just in case my mom walked by in the hall or barged in.
“I roofied them and gave them laxatives.” He hurried to say, “I took them upstairs under the guise of sleeping with them—which I did not do, I swear, because this dick is all yours, babe—and when they passed out I tied them up and shoved them in a closet together. I figured they’d wake up in their own shit and we’d all have a good laugh.”
The more Dante talked, the wider my eyes got.
What in the hell was that guy thinking? Oh, wait. I already had the answer to that. He wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t thinking at all. He had tried to get back at them for me, which was something I could appreciate, but now those two girls were dead, and since they were so close to Brittany, I was going to look guilty yet again.
Dante said, “Please say something, babe, because I’m dying over here. I thought you’d be happy—”
“Maybe,” I admitted, “but now they’re dead.” I was very glad I didn’t see them at the party, and that I didn’t watch Dante pretend to be under their spell. I would’ve bitch-slapped those bitches so hard their necks would’ve snapped.
And then how guilty would I look?
I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell would be happening next.
“Don’t worry, Vaughn and I got your back,” he said. “So does Jacob…and apparently Archer—”
Groaning, I said, “I’m hanging up now.” I hit the end call button before he could say anything, mostly because I needed time to process what he’d just told me.
