Men.
“Did Zoe tell you she’s the star of the class?” Mark asked innocently.
Paris slid a look my way. “No.”
“Well, she is. Everyone is in awe of her, even the people that have been part of the group for years. No one knows what to make of her, especially since Professor Blake is trying so hard to recruit her.”
“Why do you think they want Zoe so bad?”
Mark took a bite of the candy bar he had pulled from his pocket and chewed thoughtfully.
“I don’t know. She seems like a natural or something, I guess.”
God was I sick of hearing that.
“What types of things do they teach you?” Paris was curious. I didn’t blame her.
“Just about the history of stuff. Like how vampires came to be.”
“How did they come to be?”
“Some guy thought he was a vampire so he drank so much blood he became one. He launched the race.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I argued.
“That’s what they say,” Mark shrugged.
“Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know. I just know that monsters are real – and they’re here – and we have to stop them.”
Paris and I exchanged dubious looks.
“What if they’re not all monsters?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Just because they’re werewolves and vampires, that doesn’t mean they’re all monsters.”
“What else could they be?”
“Maybe they’re just different kinds of people trying to survive?”
“Yeah, but they survive by killing people.”
“Not werewolves.”
Mark seemed to consider my statement for a second. Then he shrugged again.
“And if vampires were really killing people to survive, wouldn’t there be a lot more deaths?”
“That’s a good question,” Paris offered.
“I never really thought about it like that,” Mark admitted.
“No, I don’t think Blake wants you to,” I muttered.
“If you don’t like him, why are you joining the cause?”
“I’m not joining the cause. I’m trying to find out who killed Tara.”
“Are you quitting after that?”
“I don’t know.”
I turned back to the washing machine and transferred my wet clothes to the dryer. When I was done, I turned back to Paris and Mark. They had their heads bent together and were smiling at one another. I had a feeling Paris’ breakup with Mike would be happening sooner rather than later.
“So have Tara’s parents come by and picked up her stuff?” Mark asked.
I was surprised by the question. The more I thought about it, though, I had no idea why.
“No. That’s weird though, isn’t it?”
Paris seemed to mull the thought over, too. “You know, not only have we not heard anything from Tara’s parents, but we haven’t heard anything from the cops either.”
“Has Brittany?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Even if they were too upset to come get her stuff, you’d think they’d send someone. Or have someone call us.”
“Do we even know that she has parents?”
“Everyone has parents,” Paris said.
“I mean, maybe they’re dead or something. Did she ever talk about her parents?”
Paris thought back for a second. “I don’t remember her mentioning them.”
“What about when she moved in?”
“She was the last to arrive and she was alone.”
“Didn’t she have a boyfriend?”
“Yeah. She mentioned having one that first night, but she never really brought him up again.”
“Did you ever see her call him?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
After finishing our laundry, we all went up to the dorm room. I pulled out my iPad and sat down on the couch.
“What are you doing?”
“Googling Tara.”
Unfortunately, Tara Thompson wasn’t exactly a unique name. The search came back with thousands of results.
“We have to narrow this down. What did she say her hometown was?”
“Zilwaukee.”
“Zilwaukee? That doesn’t make sense. That’s only a half an hour away. Why wouldn’t she save the money and commute?”
“Maybe she wanted to live in the dorms?”
“Maybe.”
I added Zilwaukee to the search parameters and came up with nothing. “Are we sure it was Zilwaukee?”
“Yeah, you made that joke about the Zilwaukee Bridge.”
“What joke?”
“I don’t remember now.”
“It mustn’t have been very funny.
“It wasn’t.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. I didn’t think that it was appropriate to laugh when you were searching for information about your dead roommate.
“See if you can find any Thompsons in Zilwaukee,” Paris suggested. “It’s a small town. There can’t be that many.”
“There’s one.”
“Let’s call them.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I found. The voice at the other end sounded old. Very old.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I started. “Um, well, here’s the thing, our roommate died the other day and she said she was from Zilwaukee and you’re the only Thompsons I could find in Zilwaukee.”
“I’m a little old to have a daughter in college, dear,” the old lady on the other end of the phone said. I didn’t doubt it.
“Maybe a granddaughter? Her name was Tara.”
“I don’t know any Tara,” the woman answered.
“Are there any other Thompsons in Zilwaukee?”
“Not that I know of.”
I thanked the woman for her time and disconnected. “Why would Tara lie about where she lived?”
“Maybe she didn’t lie. Maybe she lived with her stepfather or something and her mom has a different last name or something.”
“That’s possible.”
Still, something about the situation bothered me. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Maybe they’re just unlisted?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe they only have a cellphone and that wouldn’t necessarily show up in public records. A lot of people are eliminating landlines.”
This was true. Still.
I blew out a breath. “Maybe she’s not from Zilwaukee?”
Paris bit her lip. “But why would she lie?”
Why indeed?
Thirty-Three
The next day I was still troubled by the fact that we could find no record of Tara in Zilwaukee. I thought about talking to Professor Blake about it – but the truth was, I didn’t trust him. Instead, I decided to give Aric a call. Okay, maybe I didn’t fully trust him either. He was just so much better looking.
After laying out what we had found, Aric told me to wait at the dorms. I told him I would be waiting for him in the parking lot.
“I’ll pick you up at your room.”
“It’s not a big deal, I’ll just meet you downstairs.”
“I said that I will pick you up in your room.”
This went on for five minutes before I finally acquiesced. I didn’t know what his deal was – but I didn’t think fighting about where he would pick me up was the best use of our time.
While I was waiting in the living room, Paris eyed me questioningly and Brittany burrowed under a comforter and continued to fake freak out. I didn’t know who she was trying to impress -- especially since the door to the hall was shut – but she was giving the performance of a lifetime.
“What are you all dressed up for?”
I looked down at my outfit confused. Lucky jeans – that admittedly hugged my butt in just the right way – a Star Wars shirt and my purple slip-on converse. Typical outfit – that I al
ways made look good. Did that sound stuck up?
“The only reason to wear Lucky jeans is if you plan on unzipping them.”
This was true.
“And your Mark Ecko glittery Star Wars shirt? You’re pulling out the big guns.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean your boobs look huge in that shirt.”
Ah, that’s what she means.
“I just happened to grab the first thing I saw,” I lied.
“I guess you just lucked out,” Paris was smirking at me as I checked out my reflection one more time in the full-length mirror.
Luckily for us the conversation couldn’t digress any further. There was a sharp rap on the door. I reached over and opened it.
For a second, it was like all the air was sucked out of the room. Aric stepped in with little ceremony – and yet I couldn’t help but hear the theme to Star Wars suddenly play in my head. How he could make simple jeans, a tank top and a blue flannel look so appealing was beyond me.
Paris must have realized that I wasn’t speaking – mostly because I was so busy internally drooling – so she decided to fill the conversational gap. “You look nice, Aric.”
I noticed Brittany had perked up on the couch and was running her fingers through her snarled hair. She should have tried running some shampoo through it, too.
Aric looked confused. “I always look like this.”
Paris smiled. “I bet you do.”
I grabbed Aric’s arm and pulled him out the door, tossing Paris a cursory wave behind my back as we went.
“Where are you going?” Brittany asked.
I paused and turned back. “We’re going to Zilwaukee to see if we can find anyone that knew Tara.”
“That sounds like fun. If you wait, I’ll get showered and go with you?”
Paris shot Brittany a look. “I think they’re fine going by themselves.”
Brittany either didn’t seem to notice Paris’ not-so-subtle hint or didn’t care. “We can cover more ground with three people.”
Aric took a long look at Brittany as she got to her feet. He took in her flannel pajamas, snarled hair and runny nose and immediately started shaking his head.
“I have a truck,” he offered. “There’s only room for two of us.”
Brittany look disappointed. As we shut the door, I heard Paris smack the back of Brittany’s head. “You idiot.”
“What?” Brittany whined.
“You don’t horn in on someone else’s date.”
“I didn’t think it was a date.”
“Look at him. Of course it’s a date.”
I shut the door and turned to see Aric’s reaction. He was eyeing me with a wolfish grin. “This is a date?”
“I didn’t say that. Paris said that. I know you don’t think it’s a date.”
Aric followed me down the hall quietly. “If this isn’t a date, it’s too bad you had to break out the tight jeans and your very special Star Wars shirt.”
I swung around to see the merriment in his eyes. “I’ll have you know, all of my Star Wars shirts are very special.”
When we got down to the parking lot, Aric led me to his Ford pickup truck. It wasn’t exactly new – but it did have a cool retro feel to it. It was slate gray, and the interior was a well-worn black leather. It felt comfortable. As I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn’t help but be relieved that the cab was clearly too small for the two of us to have sex in, because for some reason all I could think about was getting out of my tight jeans and running my fingers through his thick black hair.
I turned to Aric and – I swear – it seemed like he was reading my mind. His gaze looked hot for a second – and then it was replaced by a sly smirk. I decided to ignore him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“I know what you were thinking.”
“What was I thinking?”
“That you wanted check out my X-Wing.”
Aric looked confused for a second – and then my double entendre must have become clear. “That’s the first time anyone has ever propositioned me with a Star Wars analogy.”
“That wasn’t a proposition.”
“What was it?”
“When it’s a proposition – you’ll know it’s a proposition.”
“I can’t wait.”
The ride to Zilwaukee was boring. Thankfully, it wasn’t too long. I had never been to Zilwaukee, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’m glad I wasn’t expecting too much. I definitely would have been disappointed.
Aric and I parked at a local diner. There weren’t a lot of options – and this was the first place we found that wasn’t akin to an armpit made out of wood and abandoned vehicles.
“This place is bleak,” Aric said.
“Compared to what?”
“Compared to everything.”
I couldn’t agree more.
We made our way into the diner and found a table. To no one’s surprise – especially mine – it was sticky.
“So what’s the plan?” I was trying to keep my elbows from the table while I searched my purse for a wet nap. Maybe we should have brought Brittany, after all. She always had wet naps.
“We have lunch, feel out the room and then ask about Tara.”
“We’re eating here?”
“Don’t be such a snob,” Aric admonished me.
“Just because I’m worried about eating road kill does not make me a snob.”
Aric gave me a warning look as the waitress came to the table. I couldn’t help but smile when I took in her orange polyester uniform, acrylic nails and ratted hair. The 1980s had officially came to this town – and never left.
I watched Aric smile winningly at the waitress. “What are your specials?”
I noticed that the waitress had straightened her previously bent posture and was now pushing her ample boobs into Aric’s face. He didn’t look impressed.
“Well, honey, we have chicken pot pie on special today.”
Yuck.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger with everything and fries,” Aric smiled.
“You got it, sweetheart,” the waitress started to move away.
“What about me?”
The waitress swung around. “Oh, sorry, honey, I forgot all about you. What do you want?”
I couldn’t help but notice that the waitress – who had a nametag that read Fern – was looking at Aric and smiling flirtatiously.
“I’ll have a chicken sandwich with lettuce and tomato and an order of fries,” I grumbled.
After Fern left I turned to Aric expectantly. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You and the waitress.”
“I was placing an order.”
“Oh please.”
“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous of someone named Fern that is stuck in the 80s.”
Aric just smiled knowingly.
When our lunch came, I was surprised at how good it looked. “This looks great,” I said to Fern.
“This is the best restaurant in town.”
“How many restaurants are there?”
“This is the only one.”
“So it’s the best and worst restaurant in town at the same time,” I laughed at my own joke.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
After we ate, Aric called Fern over. “Actually, Fern, we’re here looking for someone.” His voice was friendly – but the minute he opened his mouth Fern’s demeanor changed.
“Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“Then why are you looking for someone?”
Aric paused for a second. He clearly didn’t know how to proceed.
“We’re students at Covenant,” I supplied. “My roommate was killed the other night. She said she was from Zilwaukee. We just want to pay our condolences to her family.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. It wasn’t exactly the truth either.
<
br /> Fern looked genuinely surprised. She turned her full attention to me for the first time since we came into the diner. “That is awful.”
I pulled my phone out and showed Fern a picture of Tara. “Her name is Tara Thompson.”
Fern took the phone from me and stared at the photo a second. She looked confused. I figured that was a perpetual state for her.
“Do you know her?”
“Yeah, I know her.”
“You do?” Despite myself I was surprised. I figured this was going to be a dead end. “Do you know where we can find Tara’s parents?”
“Why do you keep calling her Tara?”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s not her name.”
“What’s her name?” Aric asked.
“That’s Lola,” Fern said.
“Lola? Lola Thompson?”
“No, Lola Winters.”
I was actually speechless.
“How do you know Lola?” Aric seemed to be looking for a specific answer.
“We went to school together.”
I looked Fern up and down again. She looked forty.
“That can’t be right,” I said carefully. “Tara … I mean Lola … was twenty-two.”
“No, Lola was thirty-eight.”
I shook my camera in front of Fern again. “This girl was not thirty-eight. Are you sure it’s Lola?”
“Yeah, I’m sure although,” Fern bit her bottom lip in obvious confusion.
“Although what?”
“I haven’t seen Lola since we graduated from high school and she looks exactly the same. How can that be?”
“Maybe Lola has a daughter?”
“Maybe.” Fern didn’t seem convinced. “They look exactly alike, though.”
“Lots of daughters look like their moms,” I supplied.
“Not like twins, though,” Fern said.
I turned to look at Aric. For his part, he seemed lost in thought.
“When was the last time you saw Lola?”
“High school graduation,” Fern said.
“Were you friends?”
“It’s a small town. Everyone knew each other. No one was really friends with Lola, though.”
“Why?”
“She was just … different.”
“Different how?”
“You know, she was just weird. No one really liked her.”
“What? Did she sit in the back of the room and eat her hair? Was she a bully? How was she different?”
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