by Stella Hart
“I didn’t lie. I didn’t see anything.”
“You’re seriously telling me you didn’t see the lights going on and off?” I said.
“Yes.”
I scoffed. “There’s no way you could’ve missed that.”
Laurel gently lay a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve had a really tough time over the last few weeks, Alexis. That sex tape thing was horrible for you, and now your neighbor has been killed,” she said softly. “We’re all stressed about the murders, obviously, but it must be worse for you, considering everything else you’ve gone through.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying… maybe you need to see a therapist. There’s a free counseling service here on campus for students. We could take you right now if you want.”
My mouth went dry. “Oh my god. I get it now,” I whispered.
“Get what?”
“He’s paying you, isn’t he?”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Nate Lockwood.” I swallowed hard and took a step back. “He’s giving you money to hang out with me so you can gaslight me and make me think I’m losing my mind. But I won’t let you do it. I know what I saw.”
Laurel and Ruby exchanged glances. “Alexis, we’re your friends. No one is paying us to do anything to you.”
“I think Laurel is right about the therapy stuff,” Ruby added softly. “You’re being paranoid and seeing things that aren’t real. You need help.”
“I don’t need help! I need friends who don’t lie to me!”
Before they could say anything else, I dashed away from them and out of the library.
My whole body thrummed with fear as I ran across campus. Every space felt haunted. Every shadow filled with menace. Every sound startled me, even the leaves rustling in the trees.
I finally made it back to my dorm and slammed the door behind me, hot tears stinging my eyes.
“I know what I saw,” I muttered to myself as I collapsed onto my bed. “They’re just messing with me.”
As I lay there breathing deeply, my pulse slowed, and regret began to needle at my guts. Now that I was thinking about it with a slightly calmer mind, I was beginning to realize that my version of events sounded totally absurd.
Even if Nate had paid Laurel and Ruby to set up the terrifying library prank—if you could really call it a prank—there was no way he could’ve paid the librarian to be in on it. He had no idea that she would come over and reprimand us when I started screaming, because any of the library staff could’ve been in that area at the time. He had no way of knowing it would be her.
I definitely saw something in the stacks, though. That meant one of two things had to be true. I was either losing my mind or hallucinating. But why would that be happening?
My eyes snapped open, and I sat up and looked over at the giant box of chocolates on my bedside table.
No way….
I grabbed my phone and called my mom. She answered on the second ring. “Lexie, I was just about to call you. I saw the news. I really think you should come home,” she said, voice laced with concern.
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t sound okay. You sound scared.”
“Really, I’m fine. There’s police and security guards everywhere,” I said. “I was just calling to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“Did you send me a gift at the start of the semester? Like a congratulatory thing?”
She went silent for a moment. Then she let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, honey. I should’ve sent something,” she said. “I’m so proud of you for getting into such a good school. But I’ve been so busy with everything here, and I—”
I cut her off. “Mom, I’m not trying to guilt-trip you. Someone sent me flowers and chocolates a while ago, and I wondered if it was you. That’s all.”
“Oh. No, it wasn’t me. Maybe it was your sister. Or maybe you have a secret admirer.”
Or a psychopathic stalker, I silently added. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, I have to go.”
“Okay. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
“I will. Love you.”
As soon as I ended the call, I grabbed the box of chocolates and tipped them all into the trashcan near my desk. I was almost certain that the flavored filling in each chocolate had been laced with some sort of hallucinogen.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. My nightmares had become increasingly vivid lately, to the point where they felt like they were really happening to me, and the only thing I’d changed recently was my bedtime habit—every night, I had some chocolate and watched Netflix before I went to sleep.
Nate was responsible for drugging the chocolates, of course. Who else would do something so cruel and phenomenally fucked up?
I had no idea how he managed to fake my mother’s handwriting for the note he left on the box, but it was good enough to fool me. He was even clever enough to add in the postscript note telling me not to thank her for the gift in case it embarrassed her. That stopped me from calling and finding out that she hadn’t sent it in the first place.
Until now.
I set my mouth in a grim line, trying to figure out my next move. I already knew that Nate wanted me to leave the island, and now it seemed clear that he was trying to make me think I was losing my mind so that I’d be driven away in fear and confusion.
I wasn’t going to let that happen.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t report him to anyone in order to stop his campaign of terror against me. It was the same old story—if I actively went against him, he’d reveal my secret to the world.
“Fucking asshole,” I muttered, squeezing my hands into fists.
My gaze fell on the bouquet of Everlasting roses a moment later, and my pulse began to race as I headed over to it. I removed the glass case and picked through the blooms to reveal a tiny camera.
Holy shit.
Nate had infiltrated my life in every possible way. What an utter sociopath.
I threw the little camera to the floor and stamped on it. Then I picked up my phone so I could text an apology to the girls for my earlier behavior.
An email from my contact at the newspaper came through a moment later.
Hi Alexis,
Could you please call me ASAP? Need to discuss something re. your ad.
Thanks.
I dialed his number, and he picked up right away. “Dan Taylor speaking.”
“Hi, it’s Alexis Livingston. I just got your email.”
“Oh, hi, Alexis. Is there some sort of issue with your phone? I’ve been trying to get in touch all day.”
My forehead creased. “Sorry. My phone broke, so I had to get a new one with a new number. I totally forgot to tell you.”
“That’s all right. I’ll write the new one down so I can change it in your next ad. I presume it’s the number you’re calling from now?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Thanks.” He went silent for a few seconds, and I could hear the clatter of his keyboard. “Anyway,” he finally went on. “I’m not the only person who’s been trying to contact you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve had a response to your ad.”
My brows shot up. “Really?”
“Yes. It’s a man who claims he knew Peter Covington ten years ago. He wants to talk to you.”
13
Alexis
My heart hammered. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I was surprised too,” Dan said. “He said he usually doesn’t even read the paper, but one of his kids used a recent copy to line their pet hamster’s cage. He caught sight of your ad, and then he tried to call you. When he couldn’t get through to your phone, he contacted me.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“Not a lot. Just that he knew Peter and wants to talk to you.”
“Oh.”
“I ran a background check on him after we spoke, because I figured with your particu
lar subject matter, you’re bound to get a few crackpots here and there. But he seems legitimate.” Dan cleared his throat and started reading a list to me. “Jon Richter, born on the island in 1972. No criminal record. Wife and three kids. Worked at Blackthorne University as a gardener between 1998-2011. Started working at City Hall up in Avalon City after 2011 as a parks consultant.”
“So he definitely could’ve known my f—” I abruptly cut myself off before I accidentally blurted out my identity. “My research subject.”
“Yes, it seems so. Would you like his phone number?”
Excited heat rose in my cheeks as I grabbed a pen. “Yes, please.”
“Here it is.” Dan rattled off the number. “Get that?”
“Yes. Thanks so much. I’ll call him now.”
Jon Richter didn’t answer my first or second call, but he answered the third with a terse grunt. “Yes?”
“Hi, Jon. I was told you’ve been trying to get in touch with me. My name is Alexis Livingston, and I placed an ad in the Avalon—”
Jon cut me off. His tone was much nicer now, but also very hurried. “Oh, of course! Listen, before you say anything else, can we please agree not to use his name? The man you’re asking about, I mean. I know I sound paranoid, but you never know who’s listening in on phone calls.”
“I understand.”
He let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. “All right. First things first. Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“Journalist?”
“Nope.”
“What exactly is your interest in him, then?”
I furrowed my brows and leaned back in my chair. “I’m friends with his daughter,” I said, the lie sliding easily off my tongue. “She’s looking for the truth about what happened to her father. I said I’d help her.”
That seemed to satisfy him. “All right. Like I said before, I’m not comfortable discussing this over the phone, and I know emails can be just as dangerous. Are you able to meet up in person?”
“Um…” I trailed off and hesitated, chewing my bottom lip.
Jon spoke up again. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. We can meet up in a public place so you know you’re safe.”
“I guess that’d be okay. Can you meet now?”
“No, sorry. My day is absolutely packed,” he replied. “I finish at seven. We can meet after that.”
“Where?”
“Hm.” He paused for a moment. “Do you know where Avalon City Hall is?”
“Yup.”
“There’s a bus stop bench right outside it. How about we meet on that bench at a quarter past seven?”
“Great. See you then.”
I was so excited when I ended the call that I almost forgot about the drugged chocolates and bouquet with the spy camera that had been left at my door like a Trojan horse.
Almost, but not quite.
I looked down at the crushed camera pieces with a frown, trying to figure out what to do about the Nate situation. Nothing came to me. Manic thoughts about the response to my ad were flitting around my mind like swarms of insects, cutting off my ability to think clearly. I’d have to sit on it for a while.
I still had several hours before I had to head up to the city to meet Jon, so I decided to find Laurel and Ruby so I could apologize in person for my awful behavior. As soon as I stood up to grab my coat, however, my head started spinning again, and my vision blurred at the edges.
The damn drugs were still affecting me.
I tried to blink it all away, but my vision wouldn’t return to normal. With a groan, I crawled into bed and wrapped myself in my blankets, intent on sleeping off the effects.
By the time I woke up from my extended nap, my stomach was growling, and the sun was sinking low in the sky. It was almost time to meet Jon Richter.
I freshened up, grabbed my things, and bought a snack from a vending machine near Redstone Hall. Then I got in my car and started heading up the coast toward Avalon City.
Thick white mist was rolling in from the north, and harsh winds whipped through the air, making the trees on the side of the road sway and bend. It was going to be a long, chilly night.
I was too excited to care about the cold, though. I could feel blood rushing into my face and heating my skin every time I thought about what Jon might have to tell me.
The logical side of me knew that it could be totally useless information, but my heart told me to stay optimistic. It could be something important. Why else would he feel the need to contact me?
When I got to the city, I was lucky to find a parking bay right across from City Hall. I was a couple of minutes late.
I hurried across the street toward the empty wooden bench near the bus stop and sat down, heart pounding. Jon was late too. Had he changed his mind? Was this whole thing some sort of prank?
My right foot bounced up and down with anxious energy as I waited. Just as my hope was starting to fade, a man in dark pants and a light brown coat arrived at the bench and sat next to me.
“Alexis?” he asked without looking at me.
“That’s me. Jon?”
“Yes. Sorry I’m late. Got caught up on a call.” He still wasn’t looking at me.
“That’s okay.”
He briefly glanced in my direction. “I was going to suggest we sit here to talk, because there’s usually a lot of people around at this hour, but it’s absolutely freezing,” he said. “There’s a bar just up the street. Nice food. We could go there instead.”
I nodded. “Sure. Food sounds good.”
Jon scratched the back of his neck as he glanced around. He seemed just as nervous as me. “Listen… we probably shouldn’t walk there together. Never know who’s watching. I’ll start heading up there now, and you can follow me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I waited for a minute as he got up and headed down the street. Then I started following him, remaining several paces behind so it looked like we were strangers who happened to be headed in the same direction.
Jon turned left into a basement bar about three minutes later. It was a cozy little spot, long and narrow and decorated to look like the interior of an old ship.
I ordered some fries and Coke from the bar before joining Jon in a corner booth.
“Sorry about the cloak and dagger act,” he said with a tentative smile, holding out a hand for me to shake as I sat down. “I know it’s been ten years, but I still worry what people will say or do if I bring up my friendship with Peter. Sometimes I think people are even watching me because of it.”
I gave him a tight smile. “I understand.”
“You said you’re friends with one of his daughters, right?”
“Yes.” I cocked my head to the side. “What did you want to tell me?”
“I suppose I should start by telling you how I knew him,” he said, twiddling his thumbs on the table. “I used to work at Blackthorne, you see. Lots of the teaching staff there were the ivory tower sort, if you know what I mean, but Peter was always friendly. He’d compliment my work every time he passed me in the gardens. I actually designed the layouts for a few of them, you know.”
“Oh. That’s cool.”
He nodded slowly. “We ended up having lunch together a few times, and after that we became friends. I suppose it was more of a work friendship than anything else, because we didn’t meet up on weekends or anything like that, but we still grew quite close over the years. We talked about anything and everything during our lunches.”
“I see.”
He frowned and looked over my shoulder, as if he were looking into the past. “He might’ve been a teacher when I knew him, but he was an investigative journalist at heart. I think that’s what he trained for when he was younger.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Jon was quiet for a moment. Then he rubbed his chin and let out a heavy sigh. “He got involved with some bad stuff,” he said, looking down at the table.
I leaned forward. “Is that wh
at you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes.” Jon lowered his voice. “Look, I’m not saying Peter was a bad guy. He was innocent. I’m sure of it. It was those people he was looking into—they set him up.”
“What people?” I asked. My heart was pounding now.
“I don’t know any names. He never gave me any details. Said it was too dangerous. All I know is that he was working on something major.”
My heart sank. “So that’s all you can tell me?”
“No. I can tell you that I know for a fact that he’s innocent. I have proof.”
I widened my eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“If you’ve had proof all this time, why didn’t you say anything ten years ago? Why have you held onto it for so long? And why would you tell me?” I asked, the words tumbling out of me. “Not that I’m ungrateful or anything. I just don’t understand why you’d respond to an ad in the paper a decade later instead of going to the police.”
“I understand how strange it sounds,” Jon said. His voice was so quiet now that I could barely hear him, and his eyes kept darting around like he was genuinely afraid someone else might be listening in. “But you have to understand my point of view. I have a family. I have to keep them safe. Going to the police is basically signing a death warrant for them.”
“Why?”
“The people Peter was involved with were extremely powerful. They controlled the police. Still do, presumably.”
I nodded slowly. “I see. So what’s your proof?”
“Not what. Who.”
“I don’t understand.”
Jon shook his head and sighed again. “Peter was a good man, but he was also flawed.”
“How so?”
“He was having an affair.”
Coldness struck at my core. “No. That’s impossible.”
It couldn’t be true. My parents’ marriage was solid until the day Dad got arrested. There was no way he was sneaking around with someone else.
“Sorry. It’s true.” Jon’s brows lifted in a conciliatory expression. “Like I said, he was a good guy overall, but he had trouble keeping it in his pants.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
