Five

by JA Huss

  “They won’t. I won’t let them know.”

  “You just said they have your texts. What did you say in those texts?”

  “Nothing, really. She just said Cliff was coming to pick her up and I should leave too. But—”

  “But what, Rory?” My voice is low, but there’s no mistake. That’s fear coming out with my words.

  “But last Saturday, at the pledge thing. She took me into the bathroom and was calling them a cult. She told Brian no and she wanted me to say I wouldn’t agree to it.”

  “Wait,” I say. “What the fuck happened last weekend?” Jesus Christ. How did I not get these details when I first got here? I had sex with her instead. My fucking cock might get us both killed!

  A knock at her door makes us both stiffen. Rory opens the closet door a crack and says, “Be right there.” And then she closes it again and whispers, “I’m gonna go give my statement. You get out of here. I’ll meet you in the morning at the bell tower.”

  And before I can object, she’s out of the closet and closing the door on me.

  I wait, desperate to come up with some scenario that doesn’t involve her talking to the police and being around all these crazy motherfucking people all night…

  But for the first time in my life, I don’t have the answer. I’m helpless. They’ve got me. Someone has finally found my kryptonite and it’s called Princess Shrike.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Rory

  “You don’t have to do this, Rory.” Frank is being unreasonably reasonable. He’s got his arm around me protectively and he’s glaring at the police like they have no right to be here.

  I ignore him and look at the officer questioning me. “No,” I say. “I do have to do this. Because there’s no way Tera killed herself and I need to get to the bottom of it.”

  Frank makes an incredulous grunt.

  The police officer taking my statement raises both eyebrows in surprise. “Are you insinuating that there was foul play involved, Miss…” He looks down at his note pad. “Shrike?” And then his eyes brighten. “Hey… you’re not related to that biker dude who used to have that show a while back? What’s his name?”

  “Spencer,” I say. “Spencer Shrike Bikes. And yes, he’s my father.”

  The officer smiles, about to launch into a million questions, but Frank interjects. “Can we please knock off the pleasantries? Our dear friend just killed herself tonight.”

  The officer scratches his temple with his pen and says, “Miss Shrike seems to have another angle on this case, Mr. Fulbright. So why don’t you go take a seat over there while she and I chat?”

  His friendly demeanor is gone and Mr. Officer has taken its place. Frank scowls, but the officer says, “There,” as he points to a table in the main Palladium House foyer with the pen.

  Frank huffs out some air through his nose. Put off at being ordered around. I bet Frank Fulbright isn’t used to being ordered around. But this is a police investigation and he’s smart enough to get into Princeton, so he’s smart enough to know when it’s in his best interest to do as he’s told. So he goes.

  “Why don’t we take a stroll out back, Miss Shrike? So you can gather your thoughts.”

  It’s not a question any more than telling Frank to go sit his ass down was a request. So I follow him through the back doors and out into the immaculately landscaped back yard.

  “Now,” he says, once we’re a good distance down a pea-pebbled pathway winding through some low shrubbery. “Why don’t you start with why you think Tera Middleton is a victim?”

  I don’t trust this guy, even if he is some throwback fan of my father’s long-lived TV reality show. So I just say, “Because she wasn’t depressed. She was afraid of something.”

  “Afraid of what?” the officer asks, writing down my answer.

  “I don’t know,” I say. I can’t exactly tell him anything about Palladium House. I’ll sound like a crazy person. And that will make Tera look even worse. So I lie and say, “She had a guy stalking her.”

  “Who?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. She never said. I was away all summer. Maybe someone from the beach. They stay at the Hamptons, so maybe a guy she met there.” But I don’t really want to send him off on the wrong track. So I add, “But… I could be wrong about that. She never had a chance to say anything. She was busy all week, so I didn’t see her until today.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t see her today? That she texted you?”

  Shit. This guy isn’t gonna miss anything. And why should he? Catching people in lies is his fucking job, after all. I wish I could channel Sparrow and her superpower lying talent.

  God, how badly I want to be home right now. With my family and my friends in my quaint, safe town. On the family farm, swimming in the pool and having secret meetings with Five down by Sparrow’s brook or in the grotto behind the waterfall. I’d give almost anything.

  “Miss Shrike,” the officer barks. “Did you see her today or not?”

  I gulp air. God, I really need to practice my lying. There’s no way this guy will believe me. “I was looking for her this morning but I couldn’t find her. So I didn’t see her until just now. When Mia came banging on my door, screaming.”

  “Can I see the text conversation?” he asks.

  “I have to get my phone from my room.”

  “OK, we’ll get that when we’re done here. Did she mention anything else? Did she give you a name?”

  “No, I just told you. I’ve barely talked to her.”

  “But you were the one she texted to say”—he looks down at his notes—“she was leaving.”

  “We’re best friends.”

  “Uh-huh. And I have a conflicting statement from her other best friends. Kallie and Mia?” Jesus Christ. “They say she was depressed. All summer, in fact. They were with her. And she was irrational all week, talking about people watching her. Following her. But they did say that she didn’t have a boyfriend in the Hamptons. So I don’t think your theory holds up, Miss Shrike. In fact, I think you’re leaving things out. They both told me you’re involved with some kind of criminal?” Another glance down at his pad. “Some guy named Rutherford Aston the Fifth. Five, they called him?”

  I say nothing.

  “I looked him up. No criminal record—”

  “He’s not a criminal,” I say.

  “—in the US, that is. But the guy who runs the gang unit in Brooklyn, he’s a good friend of mine. We go way back. He loves your dad too. He told me that Five Aston is actually connected to the Chinese mob.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “But you grew up with him?”

  “Look,” I say, trying not to lose my patience, but not doing a great job at holding in the explosion about to happen, “this isn’t about Five Aston. He doesn’t even know her.”

  “No?” the officer says. “But he knows her brother.”

  “It’s not Five,” I say. “That’s impossible. His grandfather just died and he went to the funeral—”

  “His grandfather,” the officer says. And now I know I have really fucked this up. “You mean Damian Li? The head of an infamous Chinese Triad based in Hong Kong?”

  I stare him straight in the eyes and say, “I’d like to call my lawyer.”

  The officer laughs. “Don’t be silly. You’re not under suspicion, Miss Shrike. Mr. Fulbright has vouched for you already. I’m just trying to clear up any loose ends. And since you made that statement back there in front of other people about Tera Middleton’s suicide being suspicious, I felt it was necessary to let you know that we deal in evidence, not conjecture.” He stares down at me, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you getting this, Miss Shrike?”

  I swallow hard and nod my head. I’m crystal clear on what’s happening here. He’s one of them. And he just threatened me. “Yes, sir,” I say. “I think I was mistaken.”

  He smiles and places a hand on my shoulder, gives it a comforting squeeze. “Understanda
ble, Miss Shrike. It’s an emotional moment. Finding out your friend was mentally ill and decided to take her own life is… trying. But I’m glad we could clear this up. Now, the bad news is—”

  Is he fucking for real right now? The bad news is that my friend is dead!

  “—that the entire second floor of the Palladium House east wing is now taped off.”

  “What?”

  “Evidence crew is in there now. In fact”—he points towards the front of the house, where flashing red lights are bouncing off the brick exterior—“the ambulance is here to take her body down to the morgue. You won’t be able to go back to your room.”

  “But my phone,” I say. “I need to call people. Her family, for one.”

  “Oh, the family has already been notified. They’re on their way down. I’m sure whatever condolences you have can wait until they’ve recovered from the shock. The good news is, Mr. Fulbright has offered to let you stay in his room until things are settled. Probably by tomorrow afternoon. I understand it’s Eat Meet this weekend? I wouldn’t want you to miss out on that, so I’ll make sure your room is accessible in time to get ready.”

  This is fucking insane. But what else is new? Everything about my life since that text from Oliver has been one crazy revelation after another.

  I just never expected Palladium House to have the local law enforcement on their payroll.

  The officer leads me back inside where Frank conveniently waits. “Everything OK?” Frank asks.

  The officer places his hand on my shoulder, gripping just a little bit too tight. “Miss Shrike has had a hard night, Mr. Fulbright. She was mistaken earlier. She didn’t know what she was saying. Isn’t that right?” he says, looking down at me.

  I swallow hard and nod my head. “I’m so upset.” And it’s not a lie, either. “My best friend… is dead,” I stammer. “Can I please go up to my room and get my phone?” I ask the officer.

  The officer directs his gaze to Frank, not to me. And I feel the explosion over that little misogynist move coming. Be calm, Rory. You’re playing a game against much better players. “Mr. Fulbright? Can you please go fetch Miss Shrike’s phone for her?”

  “Why can’t I just get it myself?” I ask. “How is that different than—”

  “Sure,” Frank says, cutting me off and walking up to me. He also places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Not as tight as the officer’s, but it’s not reassuring, either.

  I fume. Silently, because I’m trying my best not to explode.

  When Frank returns he hands me my phone. And it’s still locked.

  “Do you mind showing me your text stream with Tera Middleton, Miss Shrike?”

  “Actually,” I say to the officer, “I know my rights.” This is probably not a great way forward, but there’s no way in hell I’m opening up my locked phone for this corrupt asshole. Who knows what he’ll do. “If you’d like to confiscate it, be my guest. But I will not open it and my dad’s lawyers will be here in a matter of hours filing complaints if you do that.”

  I get a stupid raised eyebrow from both these jerks. And I raise one right back. I dare you, that eyebrow says. I double-fucking-dare you to mess with us.

  “No,” the officer says, smiling at me. “Not necessary. We have Miss Middleton’s text stream.”

  Right.

  I turn to look at Frank and say, “I’m not staying in your room. I’m getting a hotel. Goodnight.”

  I spin on my heel and force myself to walk, not run, out of Palladium House.

  I’m about halfway to my car in the parking lot when I hear footsteps behind me. I whirl around, expecting to cuss out Frank for following me, but it’s not Frank. It’s Mia.

  “Rory!” she whisper-yells. “Wait up. Where are you going?”

  Jesus. These people never give up. “To a hotel,” I say. “In case you haven’t noticed, our floor has been taped off for evidence.”

  “I know,” Mia says, looking over her shoulder. When she turns back, she’s biting her lip. “I want to call my parents so bad right now. But if Kallie finds out, she’ll—”

  Mia stops.

  “She’ll what?” I ask, so annoyed. I just want time to think about everything that’s happened and I want to do that alone. Can’t these assholes just leave me be?

  “Look,” Mia says, glancing over her shoulder. “I don’t know where you stand on all this… this weird shit going down at Palladium, but I lied back there. Kallie said I had to. I know Tera wasn’t depressed. And I knew she was thinking about leaving, so I believe you. I think someone… did that to her.”

  “Did that? They fucking killed her, Mia.”

  “Shhh,” Mia says, looking every bit as scared and paranoid as Tera did last weekend at the pairing. “Keep your voice down. Can I come with you? To a hotel? I don’t want to stay here and if I go back inside to get my car keys, Kallie and Jeremy will know I’m leaving.”

  I don’t trust her. Not one bit.

  “Please,” Mia whispers. “I just need to talk to someone and you’re the only person I can trust.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Then you can just listen,” she says. “Because whatever you think you know, I know a lot more, Rory.”

  “How much more?” I ask. Because more information would be very helpful right now. Especially with what Five and I have planned for tomorrow night.

  “Everything,” she whispers. “I know everything and I’ll tell you all of it.”

  I consider that offer for a moment. My best friend is dead. D-E-A-D. I will never see her again. I will never talk to her again. But maybe, just maybe, I can get revenge for what they did to her.

  So I say, “Get in.”

  We check into a motel near the university. Mia wanted to go somewhere fancy and nice, but I don’t trust the people who run the nice, fancy hotels here in Princeton. So we’re in the cheapest, most disgusting motel I could find. There’s no way whoever owns this place is one of the upper echelon.

  When we get inside the room, and after I pull the blackout curtains closed, I turn to Mia and point to the small table and chairs in the corner and say, “Sit. And you’d better be serious about telling me everything. Because I’m not in the mood for bullshit tonight.”

  She sits. And she talks. For hours. She confirms all of Tera’s suspicions. And mine. And Five’s. Everything we thought about Palladium House is true and it all came straight from Kallie.

  But Mia doesn’t say anything new. No new names, just the ones I already know. No new connections. Just things I already know…

  “We have to go to Eat Meet tomorrow night,” she finally says after I’m silent for a while.

  “Why’s that?” I ask. “It would seem monumentally stupid for us to show up and let ourselves be victims.”

  “Because,” Mia says, “that blonde woman we met at the pairing is gonna be there.”

  “Hmmm,” I say. “We didn’t really meet her. Never even got a name.”

  “No, no one knows her name,” Mia says. “We’re not allowed to know her name.”

  But that’s not true. Cliff Middleton does. And he told Tera when she showed him that picture she took last weekend.

  “We have to go,” Mia repeats. “Because she’s the one with all the power. She’s the one we have to watch out for. And I’ve heard that if you promise to keep your mouth shut, she lets people walk away.”

  Not likely, I think to myself. But I’m betting that blonde bitch is the whole reason my best friend is dead. “Yeah,” I say, more to myself than Mia. “We’re going all right.”

  I stay awake long after Mia passes out on one of the old, sagging beds. But sometime just before daybreak, I fall asleep too. And I dream of what I’m going to do to get justice for my best friend.

  It’s a pretty awesome dream.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Five

  I watch from the safety of a Princeton rooftop more than five hundred yards away through a rifle scope. “We need to get closer.�
��

  “We stick to the plan,” Chen says. “And that means we do not get closer until we’re called in. Rory’s life depends on you trusting her to do what she was told. We’ve rearranged everything according to that plan you made with her, even though you almost got her killed by not listening to me.”

  Every one of the Palladium seniors is out in front of the house, taking a group picture. Just step one in the plan to take over their young lives and twist their good intentions into evil. I want to feel sorry for them, but I can’t. All the men know what’s happening. And all the girls, as well, though to a lesser degree. And Rory is the only one—aside from her dead best friend—who thinks this is a bad idea. I’m basing that on the smiles on their pretty faces. Their best dresses, with their best jewelry to make them sparkle.

  It’s used as a recruiting tool, I realize. They show themselves off in front of the house for Eat Meet, knowing full well all the freshmen are wandering up and down the Street looking at which house they will join as upperclassmen.

  Of course, getting into Palladium isn’t that easy. They invite you, not the other way around. And they know who will get an invite the second they get the list of incoming freshmen each summer. It’s well planned out, well ahead of time.

  Upper. Echelon.

  The future leaders of the world all start in a secret club much like this. Every prime university on the planet has one, even Oxford. The one I was invited into—and shunned—just had a different name. The Young and Mobile Society.

  My father told me a story when I met him at the jet last week. About how he got into MIT. And his friend, the killer I call Uncle Merc, got in too. And they both knew, even before those invitations came in, that nothing good was coming out of joining that particular team.

  “There she is,” Chen says, looking through his own scope.

  I watch Rory, all dressed up in silver—looking like all the rest, and yet nothing like them at all—as she takes her place, ready to commemorate her first night as a newly inducted Silver Society member.