Page 102 of Romance Is Dead

After hearing why, exactly, we were going to set late at night, Mara had immediately wanted to call the police. Which, I had to admit, was a logical course of action. But I believed the threat in the text. There was no way I was calling the cops or letting Mara come inside the house with me. I needed to make sure Teddy was ok, to see him for myself. Instead, Mara would give me a few minutes to get into the house and hopefully convince the killer that I hadn’t gone to the authorities. Only then would Mara call the police. Or, if she heard screaming, sooner.

I really hoped it wouldn’t be sooner.

“It seems like a bad idea to go in alone.” Mara chewed her lower lip. “We’re dealing with a serial killer here.”

“Technically you’re only a serial killer if you’ve killed three or more people in unrelated situations.”

“No, it’s definitely two.”

“Well, it’s doesn’t matter!” I hissed, unbuckling my seatbelt. “They’ve already proved they’re capable of murder—they’ll definitely kill him if I don’t do what they say.” My voice wavered, threatening to break. Screw feeling bad about blaming him for the photo leak; this level of guilt was way worse. I opened the door, ready to get out.

“Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“Go kick some ass. I’ll call in your backup.”

It was a cold and clear night, the full moon shining down on me as I hopped out of the car and onto the grass. Walking through the trees toward the house, my nerves suddenly dissipated.

This was happening. There was no turning back now.

I stared up at the house, hoping for a clue as to where the killer would be waiting for me. But there was nothing—no lights, no sound, no indication of what I was supposed to do next. Taking a deep breath, I climbed the porch steps and wrenched open the door. The hinges groaned in protest, and I winced. The house was dead silent—they had to have heard. They had to know I was here. I waited on the threshold, convinced that at any moment I would be ambushed, hacked into pieces by some terrible, unseen weapon.

But nothing came. There was no hint of movement, no hint that anyone was here at all. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was alone. But I did know better, and I needed to get moving if I was going to find Teddy before they hurt him.

I was creeping through the dining room when a loud bang echoed from somewhere above. I tipped my head up, straining my ears. I couldn’t tell where exactly it had come from, but it was my only clue.

Frantically, I looked around for something to arm myself with. The bat Teddy had used in the scene we rehearsed at the baseball field—my heart squeezed at the memory of our night there—was lying nearby. I grabbed it and methodically made my way through the house, going through the second floor and then the third, rounding every corner with the bat held high, ready to meet the killer at any moment. But room after room was empty, and soon I was staring at the door leading up to the attic, the only place left that I hadn’t checked.

Gulping, I yanked open the door. As soon as I did, I noticed a flickering in the room above. Light. Candles. And then, a hushed noise—like someone telling another person to be quiet. Taking a deep breath, I climbed the stairs.

The first thing I saw when I reached the top was Teddy. He was sitting in an old ratty chair, his hands tied behind the back. His eyes went wide, but he didn’t yell out.

The second thing I saw was the person we’d been looking for all along. The person who had been in the photo my dad had shown me.

It was Chloe.

Chapter Thirty-four

Everything slowed down as I rushed to Teddy’s side.

“Teddy!” I knelt on the floorboards, running my hands down his arms as I scanned his body for injuries. “I’m so sorry it took me so long to get here. I—”

Chloe kicked out her leg, knocking me off balance and sending the bat tumbling out of my hand. It rolled across the floorboards before spinning at a stop near her feet.

“Well, that was easy.” She knelt down to pick it up. “I expected you to at least put up some kind of a fight.”

I wanted to tackle her—small, non-threatening Chloe, with her sweet, heart-shaped face and cherubic blonde waves. I wanted to pull her hair and smack her and maybe push her down the stairs while I was at it. But if the past month had taught me anything, it was that maybe I needed to stop reacting so quickly. So I bit my tongue, hard, and instead rose slowly to my feet.

“I’m here to help you, Chloe. We can figure this out.” I gestured to Teddy. “We can all figure this out.”

I glanced down at him, hoping he would chime in. But he said nothing, his face tense and trained on Chloe. As though he was trying to anticipate what she would do next.

As though she’d already given him more than enough reasons to be frightened.

Chloe ignored me. “Who did you think it was?” She bent down and started rummaging through a duffle bag. “Like, you obviously didn’t know it was me until, like, now.”

“What? Why does that matter?”

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