“We have reason to believe Cason has left the area,” an old guy in a police uniform said during a press conference. “If you have any information about his whereabouts, contact authorities at…”
Cade had split town. Bailed. Jonathan figured that wasn’t such a bad idea.
But they’d find him. Cade wasn’t smart enough to stay on the run long. The police would catch up to him. In a few days, a week at most, Cade would be sitting in an interrogation room, babbling about that night by the lake.
Jonathan didn’t have a clue what he’d say to the police when they came for him. It was just something else to worry about, something else to keep sleep away.
Sunday night was no better than Saturday, and when he came out of his final nightmare Monday morning, Jonathan felt like his body had been beaten by a hundred sticks. His head ached and felt packed with cotton. His limbs weighed too much, and he struggled to get out of bed.
He had to go to school, he thought. If any place was safe, it would be school.
His completely weary mind forgot that it hadn’t been safe for Emma.
12
The morning sun was too bright. Jonathan’s eyes stung from the glare as he trudged along the sidewalk. When he passed the mall, he paused, looked at Perky’s, wondered why he wanted to look at the place, and then continued on. His head throbbed. His stomach churned with acid. It would have been a good day to stay home. It wasn’t like he could pay attention to anything his teachers said for more than a second or two anyway. Except he didn’t want to stay home. He couldn’t take another minute in the apartment or in his room, which was thick with his fear.
Someone called his name, and Jonathan ignored it because he figured it was just one of the many voices in his head, taunting him with some new nightmare he had yet to imagine.
“Jonathan!” the voice came again. “Jonathan, please wait.”
The voice was high, hitting his eardrums with a sharp edge. He stopped walking and shook his head to clear it of the voice—a girl’s voice. Emma?
“Jonathan!”
He turned, and his throat closed tight, seeing Kirsty Sabine running down the sidewalk toward him. He blinked in an attempt to clear the cottony haze falling over the girl. In doing this, he saw how scared she looked.
“Hey!” Jonathan said, searching Kirsty’s face and finding himself intrigued by the expression of dread she wore. “What are you doing?”
“You can’t go to school,” she said rapidly. “Neither of us can. He’ll look for us there.”
“What are you talking about?”
“David,” she said, her voice cracking horribly as if she might cry. “He’s so angry. I don’t know what he might do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He tried to kill me,” she said. “Last night. God, it was a nightmare. He just freaked out. He seemed so sweet. But…but…”
David? Tried to kill her?
He wished he could be surprised. As the miserable weekend passed, he had grown more and more certain of David’s guilt. It was awful but unavoidable. He didn’t want to believe his best friend was capable of such horrible actions, so he clung to the idea that Kirsty was the bringer of evil. But he couldn’t believe it anymore. Not after David’s threat. Not after Cade’s phone call.
“What are we going to do?” she asked. She grabbed Jonathan’s jacket tightly and pulled him close. “Where are we going to go?”
“Just calm down,” Jonathan said, unable to take his own advice. His nerves were lit. They flickered and flared like tiny fires throughout his body. “Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning.”
“We have to get inside,” Kirsty said. “We can’t stay out here.”
“Okay,” he said. “Just calm down.”
They couldn’t go to his house yet. His mother was home for at least another hour, and the last thing he needed was a scene with her. She didn’t care if he went to school or not; he was pretty sure about that. But she’d see his truancy as an excuse to ride his ass, and it might get ugly. Could they go somewhere public? Like the mall or Perky’s? He wasn’t sure. A cop might hassle them. Whenever he’d ditched class before, he had gone over to David’s to play Resident Evil or Tomb Raider. That was not an option.
“I don’t know where to go,” Jonathan said.
“We can go to my house,” Kirsty said.
Jonathan had never been in a home like Kirsty’s before. David’s family had money and a high-tech approach to decoration. Everything was chrome and steel and glass and stone. Every room in David’s house had an electronic gadget, either an LCD television or an expensive sound system or a computer; some rooms had all three. It was like a showroom for Sony and Bose. Kirsty’s house was just as large, and the stuff inside probably cost just as much, but it was a totally different kind of house. The walls were painted deep shades of brown and green with swirls of lighter colors to give the surfaces an odd sense of motion. The furniture was big with dark wooden frames and intricately patterned cushions. On either side of the raw brick fireplace, wrought-iron stands held thick cream-colored candles. More candleholders, these of some other metal, lined the mantel. No pictures decorated the walls, no posters, no paintings. Instead, broad tapestries, their images faded with time, ran across the walls.
“It’s modern goth,” Kirsty said, noticing Jonathan’s reaction to the place. “My mom always wanted to live in a castle. Weird, right?”
“It’s cool,” Jonathan said, and he really thought it was. Despite being on the edge of creepy, the living room looked warm and inviting. Still, he wasn’t comfortable, considering the reason he was brought here. “Can you tell me what happened with David?”
Kirsty looked sadly at the floor. She nodded her head slowly as if agreeing to take medicine she despised.
“We went out together, just grabbed some dinner at Pan Pacific, you know? We were talking about school, and he wanted to know all about where I used to live and about my family and stuff. And it was really nice. He’s totally funny and smart. After dinner we took a walk. We were going to Perky’s for a coffee and some dessert, and while we were walking he started asking me all of this off-the-wall stuff, like ‘Is anyone at school bothering you?’ ‘Are your teachers cool?’ And I told him everything was fine. Then he said, ‘Well if anyone’s giving you a hard time, just let me know. I’m an expert at taking care of assholes.’
“I didn’t think much about it. I figured he was just being protective, and it was kind of sweet, but there was something in his voice that was creepy, so I changed the subject. At Perky’s I asked him about the stuff he likes, and he got real defensive. He didn’t really want to talk about himself at all. Then, out of nowhere, he starts saying how jealous you were of us. He said some terrible things about you, and I got really skeeved out about it. He said you just used him because he has money, and no one else would waste their time on you. It was just so mean. And his eyes were all weird and dark, and he was smiling, but it wasn’t a real smile. You know? It wasn’t a happy smile at all.”
The words sickened Jonathan.
“I’m sorry, but he was just so mean, and he totally seemed to like being mean. I wanted to go home, but he just kept on, saying how much he’d done for you and that you were totally ungrateful for it. Said you wanted to split him and me up, because you didn’t want him to be happy. And it’s not like David and I were a couple or anything. I mean…not really. We went out a couple of times, but he was all ‘No way that loser is going to break us up. We’re too special.’ I was too scared to say anything. But then he said something like, ‘I know you’ll be grateful for what I can do. Nobody else is going to treat you the way I can. You’re not that hot.’ And that was totally it. My dad used to make fun of the way I looked. He used to call me names, and after he left, I swore no one was going to do that to me again.