Page 107 of Web of Lies
“Eli and I went to school with each other. He was my best friend in middle school and into freshman year and knew about my touch sensitivity, and we fooled around a few times. He—uhh—helped me work through some issues. He wanted a relationship with me, but I couldn’t do it, because he was moving away. And then I never saw him again.” My throat bobs as I swallow the painful lump in my throat.
We may have left on a sour note, but I didn’t want him to die. Not like that, young and innocent, he would have graduated soon like Magnolia and now they won’t. Whoever is murdering people is striking them down. People I care about. People others care about. They’re taking this too damn far.
“We have to find out who did this,” I choke out, clamping my eyes shut, holding back the tears burning in my eyes.
“We will,” Zepp says with conviction, running his fingers through my hair again, soothing me. “We will find out who is doing this to him, to all of them, and who did it to Maggie. We will get them, I promise.” Relief washes over me as I open my eyes—the others nod with him, easing the mounting tension in my cracking chest.
“So, what about the other people who have been found this year?” Seger asks, perking up from his sleepy state. “What the hell do they have in common with him and Maggie?” I shake my head.
“Let’s find out,” I say to Zepp, and he nods.
Making our way across campus, we descend on my apartment for further research. Two brains are better than one, but four brains? It has to work better. Zepp brings his laptop, offering what he can. We investigate every newspaper report, every autopsy report we can get our hands on. Chase and Seger rest on my couch, aimlessly watching Netflix while we work. They even fetch us drinks and bring us dinner from the dining hall until we’ve gathered as much information as we can.
“Nothing is connecting any of them. The only pattern I can find is they’re all under the age of twenty-two. The first girl was eighteen, the next guy nineteen, the next guy twenty-one, the fourth guy twenty-two, the next girl was eighteen, and Eli was still seventeen, and if we toss Mags in there, she was the youngest at sixteen.” I shake my head, running my fingers through my hair. “What the hell do they have to do with each other?”
“If it’s even connected?” Seger asks, downing the last of a beer. “What if some of them really are offing themselves? I mean—it’s not unheard of.” He says through a grimace, hating the words on his tongue.
Zepp shakes his head back and forth, swiping a hand down his face, groaning. “No, they’re connected. They have to be. I’ve just poured through all their original autopsy reports. All of them say suicide, but how can it be that many in such a short time? It makes little sense, and the pictures don’t fit the cause of death.”
“How can you tell they’re all connected?” I ask, leaning over as he opens every report in front of me, clicking on the pictures.
“Right here,” he says, pointing to each abdominal shot. “They may have all died from different causes, according to the reports. Asphyxiation, blood loss from self-inflicted wounds, electrocution, drowning, overdose, but there’s something they all have.” He turns to look at us all, in all his dramatic Zeppelin fashion, rubbing his chin.
“You and your shitty dramatics, on with it, dude,” Chase says, waving a hand.
Zepp huffs, presenting each picture side by side until the wound is staring us all in the face. My jaw drops at each image, instantly turning my stomach at the sight of it. “They each have an unhealed stab wound to the abdomen.”
“In the same place.” Chase leans over us, staring at the screen. His skin turns a nasty shade of green before he backs away, covering his mouth.
“Except Magnolia,” I whisper, fighting the stomach acid churning like a hurricane brewing inside of me. “She had over thirty.” I motion to her picture, averting my eyes.
When she first died, I hacked her report and looked at the attached photos. Her report said one thing, and her pictures showed another. Proving to me, something suspicious was afoot. But now, I can’t force myself to look at her mutilated body again.
“And there’s nothing in the report about those wounds, are there?” Seger seethes from above me. “They got away with fucking murder, pulling the wool over on all of us.” He growls now, white knuckling the back of my chair. “This is bullshit!” He shouts, turning on the ball of his feet, and storms out my apartment door, slamming it in his wake. My eyes shoot to Zepp, who holds out his hands.
“Just let him cool off. He’ll come back.” He reassures me, grabbing my hand, squeezing my fingers with his.
“Yeah—talk about a hothead. Fair warning, he’ll probably come back bloody. Every time he’s fired up, he goes and beats the shit out of someone.” Chase shrugs, sitting back in his seat. Reminding me of the time I saw him in the basement with Carter, beating his face.
“So—we can officially say a crazy serial killer is going around town picking off young adults.”
“With every city official in their back pocket to cover it up.”
“Isn’t that fantastic?” Chase quips from the couch, slumping in his seat. “How great is that? A frigging serial killer is running around one of the richest areas in America. Hurray.” He waves a finger in the air, frowning at the thought.
“Great,” I grumble. “Now we have fewer answers and a million more questions. How the hell are we going to figure this out?”
“I need a drink,” Chase groans from my couch, flopping so he’s lying down. “Got any whiskey?” He grumbles, throwing an arm over his tired eyes.
I laugh at Chase, telling the poor soul I don’t. “You think Shaw’s in on this school thing?” I ask Zepp, staring ahead at my blank computer screen. A moment of silence passes between us as Zepp considers my question.
“How the hell does this all connect then, I mean, Maggie? How’d they even get a crack at her? If it was them?” Chase asks from the couch, voice dripping in concern.
“I don’t know,” Zepp finally says, looking between the two of us. “To either of those…. this… this is overwhelming.” He runs a hand down his face, sighing heavily.
I’d have to agree with him. This whole situation is overwhelming and too much for teenagers to do. If the grown-ups, the ones who protect us and guide us, are the bad guys, then who will stop this? Who will put an end to the suffering? “I’ll look into the victims more, maybe Kace can look, and we’ll figure it out.” I nod, barely listening as my fingers move against the keys.
“And she’s off,” Chase snorts in an announcer’s voice. I grunt with acknowledgement but continue in pursuit of an idea tickling my brain.
