Serial killers do weird things, Gem said.
Eric Bins is between Ben Barnard and Cassidy Clarke, but it would be a huge coincidence for it to go alphabetically after tonight. Lia scratched out Eric’s name. After Devon was Andrew Doyle, Kaitlyn Eames, and Emma Earl. Maybe you four did something to them? And who’s Emma Earl?
Georgia. She goes by her middle name, said Gem. Someone could’ve been jealous of Abby and Cass, but Ben was aggressively nice. No way someone wanted revenge against him.
Abby and Cass had just gotten the Governor’s Scholarship like I did, Devon said, but Ben hadn’t
Lia turned to a fresh page of her journal and wrote down A. Ascher, B. Barnard, C. Clarke, and D. Diaz. The pen spun in her hand, and she added one last name.
E. Earl.
May got the scholarship. Gem sent a screenshot of a conversation. She found out a few weeks ago, but she’s deferring for a year. Her scholarship slot is going to the next in line.
The names were the strongest link, but Eric Bins interrupted it. The scholarship connection was weak, and May had only told Gem after Ben’s death. How would anyone have known who got it early? It was like when Lia had tried to bake pumpkin pie at Christmas but forgot eggs; she was missing something and without it, nothing would set. She shook her head.
I mean, I sort of get killing over a full ride, Gem said finally. Especially for legacy students. It’s bragging rights, room and board, and no worry in the back of your mind about what comes next.
Gem, how is May? Lia typed.
She just wants to talk about Ben. Gem went silent for a moment. Whoever did this is a monster.
A monster who knows a terrifying amount about us, Devon said. Our schedules, our plans…they even know Lia snuck out tonight to meet me.
Lia swallowed and typed the words she had been dreading. If you had fallen over the railing, it would’ve looked like I pushed you. They’re setting me up. And they’re definitely watching me.
Neither of them responded.
They’re probably the one who stole my journal, Lia said, flipping through the pages. That’s how they knew everyone’s schedules and that Ben was allergic to latex.
They’re smart enough to plan and escape the cops, Gem said, but not smart enough to realize they won’t get the scholarship this way.
Lia hesitated. If they’re going to frame me, that breaks the alphabet trend, and I’m not in line for the scholarship. I’m nowhere close. Why me?
No offense, but more pressing—this means they’re in our biology class. That’s what this means, right? Gem asked. And if they’re canceling school, kids will be home alone all day. They’ll be vulnerable.
Lia closed her Assassins journal and looked toward her dark window. Was the killer watching her now? My mom is dropping me off and picking me up. I’ve got no phone or computer.
How are you talking to us now? Devon asked.
Old flip phone on Wi-Fi.
Lia got up and wedged three pencils into the sliding window to keep it shut just in case the lock was picked. She pulled the blinds shut.
We stop this now, Lia said. No more sitting ducks. Tomorrow we go after them.
Lia didn’t go to sleep immediately. She sent an email to the Council.
How did you know it wasn’t me, and why didn’t you say anything?
Their response didn’t come until Sunday morning.
We do not interfere in the lives of civilians no matter how dastardly they may be. Lincoln leaves us alone to do as we may, so we leave Lincoln alone to do as it may.
Which didn’t really help.
Lia’s mother dropped her off at school Monday one minute before the first bell rang. Devon and Gem were waiting on the sidewalk near the drop-off, and Lia’s mom said nothing when Lia said goodbye. Surely she wasn’t really a suspect now if Detective James was letting her go to school, but that meant they had no clue who it actually was. If today didn’t work, things would get worse. Lia wouldn’t let anything happen to Devon or anyone else.
No matter what.
“How are you doing?” she asked Devon.
Devon leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ve been better.”
“I made a list.” Lia pulled out her journal and held it out to Gem. “I narrowed it down to seven people in our biology class who aren’t playing the game. The Council didn’t give me anything new.”
The seven the Council might have meant were Sam Douglas, Krystal Fowler, Hannah Henry, Faith Franklin, Suzanna Smith, Penny Peterson, and Jessica Thompson
“You can add Mateo, even though I hate to say it,” Gem said. “He withdrew before that email was sent.”
Lia added him, but it was hard to picture Mateo killing anyone. It was hard to picture anyone she knew as a killer.
Lia looked around at the kids milling about. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe it wasn’t even a senior or a student. It was too late for that now. At least they were safe at school. She had barely slept the night before. There were too many thoughts in her mind. “Time to sit in biology and hope the killer isn’t in there.”
“I hope they are,” Devon muttered. “I want this over.”
They made their way to Ms. Christie’s class. Only she was in there that early, the first bell still a few minutes away. Devon, Gem, and Lia took seats in the very back, and Ms. Christie handed them a packet outlining what would be happening over the next few weeks. After today, school was canceled for a week to give everyone time to grieve and the police time to find the killer. If the cancellation lasted longer, the school had prepared another packet to send out to students by email. How bleak for everyone to be prepared for weeks of a murderer carrying on. Lia didn’t read the whole sheet.
They would end this today.
“We have to leave our bags and phones in homeroom during lunch,” Devon said. “That’s annoying.”
Gem turned the first page over. “Is orchestra still meeting tonight?”
“We are,” Devon said, “but only for a few minutes to vote on what we want to do about the spring concert and rehearsals.”
“Maybe we should steal the key to homeroom so we can come back during lunch and go through bags,” Lia whispered. She mapped out where everyone was sitting in the back of her journal and circled the eight they needed to investigate. “Serial killers keep trophies. Maybe they’ll have one, and if not, maybe they left my account open on their phone.”
It would be hard to unlock the phones but not impossible. Probably. Whoever the killer was had guessed Lia’s password. How hard could it be?
“Okay, second idea: we ask Ms. Christie if we can do some work in here during lunch,” Gem said. “She’ll still have to leave to heat up her food and supervise the start of lunch like she always does, and she’s not going to say no to us.”
“She won’t?” Lia asked.
Gem sighed. “You’re so used to your parents saying no that you dismiss the idea of asking adults for help entirely.”
Devon leaned over Lia’s shoulder, one hand on her arm. “I’ll do it. She won’t say no to me.”
“Do it at the end of class,” Lia said. Her hunt for schedules last semester had taught her that people were more likely to agree to something simple if they wanted to leave quickly.
The other students began to trickle into class after the first bell rang. Hannah and Penny were first, taking their seats in the middle row in somber silence, and Mateo, in a hoodie and sweatpants instead of his normal ugly sweater, nodded to Devon as he slipped into his seat a few desks over from Devon. Faith stopped at Ms. Christie’s desk as she entered and took two of the handouts. She wore gray leggings and a red University of Arkansas fitted T-shirt. Her black tennis shoes looked new.
“Georgia’s sick,” Hannah said. “Her mom said it looks like food poisoning.”
Lia glanced at Gem and mouthed, “Poisoning?�
��
Maybe the killer was stepping out of their comfort zone of blitz attacks and trip wires.
They shrugged.
The rest of the students on Lia’s list wandered in right before the tardy bell, Suzanna out of breath and Sam cracking a smile as he skidded into class just as it rang. He caught sight of Abby’s and Georgia’s empty seats and winced. Faith patted his arm as he passed.
“She’s just at home,” she said. “No reason not to focus on school.”
Hannah nodded. “She’ll be fine.”
Faith hummed, and Sam dropped his backpack next to his desk, collapsing into his seat. God, they were all falling apart one by one. The killer had screwed up everything.
Class went by far more slowly than it ever had. They didn’t study biology so much as write down what they might need for the final once school was back in session, and most of the class was devoted to talking about the cancellation. Faith was terrified the cancellation would affect college admissions, and Hannah was afraid no one would get to walk at graduation. No one seemed to have heard about Lia’s failed chase at least. At the end of class, once everyone else had left and Ms. Christie was about to stand, Devon cleared his throat.
“Ms. Christie?” Devon asked, approaching her desk. “Is there any way we could stay here during lunch?” He gestured to Lia and Gem at the back of the room. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but lunch is when people keep asking questions.”
Devon’s voice wavered a touch, and Lia’s fingers tensed. She had tried so hard not to think about the empty spaces around them or the questions Devon and Gem might have faced when she wasn’t at school.
“It’s just a lot, you know?” Gem said from next to Lia. “And your class is near our third block class.”
Ms. Christie took a deep breath. “If I let you stay in here, you have to clean up after yourselves.”
“Of course,” Devon said. “Yes, thank you. Thank you so much.”
By the time lunch had arrived, the school halls were buzzing with news of Georgia’s absence and bets on if the school would shut down for the rest of the semester. Devon wrapped one arm around Lia’s waist to stop her from tackling Sam, whose bet had involved one more death.
“If it’s not him,” she whispered to Devon, “I’m still punching him.”
He squeezed her and let go. “Let me buy you some brass knuckles first.”
“Now,” Ms. Christie said once they reached her room and the other students had dropped off their bags in their chairs and left. “You three sit in your normal seats and relax and I will be back in five minutes.”
She vanished out the door with her lunch tote.
“See?” Gem said, heading for the bags. “Ask and you shall receive.”
They went down the rows methodically, going through the students’ bags, searching for something, anything, that would connect to the crimes.
Two minutes in and none of them had found anything useful.
Lia opened a bag without looking at whose it was and pulled out several neatly organized journals. “You know high school is too much when we need three agendas for one year.”
Gem snorted.
Lia flipped through the first one and her head swam at the multicolored bullet points and to-do lists. She slid it back into place, the bag was impeccably packed with little pouches to keep everything private and neat, and she pulled out the next journal. This one was a butter-soft letter notebook tied shut with leather strips, and Lia was struck by the winding way the bow was tied. The first page of the journal was only a contact page, the upper right corner slightly bent. Lia turned it over.
Abby’s name decorated the top of the first page. Next to it was a pale blue box filled in, the edges meticulously lined so that none of the ink bled through. Lia ran a hand down the page.
morning runs through Pleasant Pines w/Omelet
breaks on bridge for 5 minutes
1st target for assassination is Mark Crooks (?)
Δ route (?)
The page was full of notes. Lia turned to the next page, fingers shaking.
“Hey, Devon, the little triangle means change, right?” Lia asked, even though she knew the answer.
He checked his watch and put a phone back into the bag he was searching. “Yeah. Why?”
Lia nodded.
Ben’s name was at the top of the second page, and beneath it in the jagged caps of Lia’s own handwriting was “ALLERGIC TO LATEX; EPIPEN IN POCKET.” The EpiPen note had been whited out, and beneath it was a color-coded copy of Ben’s daily schedule from Lia’s Assassins journal. Next to it a smaller copy of May’s schedule, from her soccer practices to her weekend sleepovers with her best friend, had been taped neatly into the journal and the cut edges covered with “do it today!” and alarm clock stickers. A purple box had been filled in next to his name. A few notes lined the margins in looping cursive.
Lia turned the journal sideways to read “stays with team after practice to carpool” and “rxn appears 5–10m after exposure.”
Fear settled heavy and cold at the base of Lia’s spine, and she sat down on the floor next to the bag. Devon paused.
“Lia?” he asked.
“Two minutes left,” Gem said. “What are you doing?”
She turned to the next page. Cassidy’s schedule had been carefully printed and pasted into the book as well, and the notes jotted down in cheerful yellow ink. An email address and password were highlighted at the top of the page. Next to them was a sticker in the shape of a lock. Another square, yellow, was next to her name.
“So organized,” Lia whispered, flipping to the next page. “So meticulous.”
Devon’s name was handwritten at the top of the page in calligraphy and his schedule written out by hand. Lia had never followed him, and so none of his information was in her journal. Oxford-style notes took up the page; the left-hand side was an outline of things to cover in the emails to Devon. The bottom of the page included footnotes in miniscule cursive referring to his schedule and tendencies outlined on the page proper. Garlic bread was underlined in spring green. The box next to his name was empty.
“Check the phone in this bag,” Lia said. “Now.”
Gem rifled through the smaller pocket, unzipped a little leather pouch, and pulled out the phone. “We need the passcode.”
“One minute.” Devon tossed everything back into the bag and zipped it up. “Skip it.”
“No,” Lia said, “give it to me.” She held it up and tilted it back until the oily surface was revealed, and four prints with little scratches from Faith’s nail stared back at Lia.
“One, five, and zero,” Lia said.
Devon winced and rifled through the rest of a bag. “I think that’s eighty-one possible passcodes?”
“Thirty-six,” Gem said quickly. “That’s thirty-six possibilities if each one is used at least once and one is repeated.”
“Work smarter, not harder,” Lia whispered.
Even now, days later, Lia could remember the tone Faith had used when asking Lia about her test scores.
Lia typed in 1510 and the phone unlocked, revealing a homepage cordoned off into neat little squares full of apps. Lia opened the last-used mail app and found nothing. There were no emails to Devon.
She looked up the phone’s IP address and locked the phone, putting it back into its pouch.
“Time,” Devon said, closing the bag he was searching. “Lia, put it away.”
She couldn’t move. The scuff of Ms. Christie’s Crocs echoed down the hall. Gem ripped the journal from Lia’s trembling hands and returned it to the backpack. Devon darted down the aisles to make sure everything was in place, and the two of them took their seats. Lia lingered, standing, near her desk. She knew whose bag it was, but she checked her desk map to confirm whose seat it was anyway. Her finger trac
ed the edges of the killer’s name.
“I did everything right,” Lia whispered. “I’m not sure why I didn’t get higher. I earned it.”
Devon stared at her, eyes wide, and the pencil in his grip snapped. Gem looked from him to Lia.
“What?” they asked.
“Lia?” Ms. Christie called from the door. “Is everything all right? You look frightened.”
Lia turned to her. She felt light. She felt cold. She was completely unmoored from her body, and the words tumbled out of her in an awkward staccato. “I’m fine. Thank you. I just realized something I should have noticed earlier.”
Her teacher nodded and sat at her desk. Lia crumpled up the page of her journal and tossed it into the trash. She sat between Devon and Gem.
“You know who it is, don’t you?” Gem asked quietly.
Devon nodded, and Lia opened up her Assassins journal. It was a taunt. Her knowledge had done this. Her drive to win had gotten her friends killed.
“She copied my journal and color-coded all the information she stole,” whispered Lia. “Our lives are just footnotes to her.”
“They won’t believe me,” Lia said.
“Why?” Devon asked as they left Ms. Christie’s room. “Why any of it?”
“Maybe the scholarship idea was right. Maybe she hated us all these years. Maybe she just likes killing.” Lia walked through the hallway, her mind racing. “Does it matter? You’re definitely next, and Georgia’s in danger.”
“And the cops thought we were just playing Assassins the other night.” He paused outside of his third class of the day. “Great. Perfect. They definitely won’t believe me if they didn’t the first time.”
“We have to stop her,” Lia said. “She won’t wait long enough for them to figure out who she is.”
“It’s such a bad plan,” Gem said. “Of course she would get caught.”
The Game Page 16
