The Dead List

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Halfway to the porch, we broke into a run, but we weren’t quick enough. The clouds ripped open and chilly rain poured down on us, soaking my shirt by the time we reached shelter.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped, slopping my wet hair out of my face. “That is cold.”

  “Cold?” His gaze was below my neck. “I really don’t feel cold at all.”

  My gaze followed his and my cheeks heated. I slapped his chest. “You’re such a dog.”

  Shoving his hair back from his forehead, he grinned. “You love me.”

  The air caught in my throat as my gaze locked with his. You love me. The rightness of those three words were shattering, the truth undeniable. I loved Jensen. I had loved Jensen for years. That was no big surprise, but I was in love with him.

  His grin started to fade. “What are you staring at? Can you see my nipples through my shirt? I doubt mine are as—”

  “No.” I flushed, turning away as I dug my keys out of my bag. “I’m not staring at anything.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  I rolled my eyes as I shoved the key in.

  Jensen stepped right up behind me, pressing his fingertips lightly on my hips. “Then what were you thinking.”

  “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

  His breath was warm against my neck. “You’re such a terrible liar.”

  Opening the door, I escaped inside, putting space between us. “You’re terribly annoying.”

  Jensen laughed as I dropped my bag inside. “Where are you going?”

  I stopped at the base of the stairs. “I’m going to go get changed.” And recollect my scattered, overly emotional thoughts. I knew Jensen cared about me. Deeply. But love? He hadn’t said that and we hadn’t been dating for long.

  But we’d known each other for forever.

  His lashes lowered, giving his eyes a heavy look. “Need help?”

  I started to tell him no, but my heart leapt and parts of my body coiled tightly. I wet my suddenly dry lips. I really needed to say no. “Sure.”

  Oh God…

  Jensen blinked once and then twice. “Hot damn.”

  Laughing loudly, I whirled around and headed up the stairs. The laugh… God, it had felt good. That moment of feeling free; I clung to it, but when I reached the landing and turned to see Jensen a step below me, I swallowed hard.

  “You know.” His voice was deeper than normal. “The shirt is going to have to go first. It’s soaked.”

  My hands opened and closed at my sides. “It is.”

  “Glad we’re on the same page with that.” His eyes were fastened on mine as he came up the last step, stopping in front of me. “Need help?”

  It was like someone else was in control of my body. I nodded.

  He hesitated for a moment. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice, and I didn’t understand what he was thanking me for. But, then he brushed my wet hair back from my shoulders. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve thought about this?”

  My throat dried and I shook my head.

  Jensen didn’t follow up on that statement as he slipped his hands under the hem of my wet shirt. As he lifted it up over my head, my heart felt like it stopped beating in my chest. He made a deep sound in the back of his throat as he draped my shirt over the railing.

  I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe normally so I didn’t end up passing out or something, because that would surely be a mood killer. But it was hard. I was standing before him in my jeans and bra, and I knew the latter, being as damp as it was, showed more than it probably covered.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  My eyes flipped open, and his stare was latched onto my face, not where I’d thought it would be. My throat closed up, and I stood still as the tips of his fingers skimmed the sides of my stomach, running all the way up to my throat and then my cheeks. Who knew such a light touch could cause my knees to shake?

  He tilted my head back and brushed his lips across mine. It was quick and soft, but it zinged all the way to my toes. He brushed the back of his fingers across my cheeks, sweeping up any lingering drops of rain, and then his lips found mine again, taking it deeper and longer.

  His lips didn’t leave mine as his hands skated back down, sending a series of shivers through me. My fingers found the damp ends of his hair, and then his hands settled on my hips. Without breaking contact, he lifted me up. His lips caught a surprised gasp as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

  I leaned into him, sliding my fingers through his hair. The feel of his damp shirt against my flushed skin sent a riot of sensations through me.

  Jensen walked us to my bedroom, and I didn’t know what was going to happen once we were inside, but I was curious—beyond curious. I wanted to know. I wanted to experience this with him.

  I wanted to feel alive.

  My bedroom door was cracked open, and when my back eased into it, it drifted the rest of the way. Kissing me deeply, he eased my legs off his waist and my feet to the floor.

  “God, Ella,” he said, his lips brushing mine, and then he started to lift his head. “You have—Christ.”

  The shock of the word spun me out of the haze. Jensen wasn’t staring at me, his attention focused behind me. I started to turn, and his arms folded around me, pressing me against his chest so tightly I could barely move.

  “No,” he said. “No.”

  “What?” My pulse picked up as unease took root in the pit of my stomach. I tried to turn again, but it was impossible to break his hold.

  Jensen started backing up, and I managed to slide my hands in-between us. I pushed hard against his chest. “Ella!”

  I was able to twist around enough to see my bedroom. My gaze darted over my desk and then to the center of the room, at the foot of my bed. My horrified gaze rose to the ceiling fan.

  A body hung from the fan, arms and legs limp at its sides. The ghastly white mask was secured in place, a red frizzy wig covered its head.

  My mouth worked soundlessly as I pressed back against Jensen. I got hung up on its neck, how the head hung at an unnatural angle, and the thing around its neck.

  Chapter 20

  Jensen pulled me out of my bedroom and down the hall. Blood buzzed in my ears, my heart beat too fast. I didn’t get a good look at the body, but I knew it was a guy.

  There was a guy hanging in my bedroom.

  “He’s been in here,” I said, and it was stupid, because it was obvious, but I couldn’t stop saying it. “He’s been in here again.”

  He snatched my shirt off the banister, shoving it into my hands. “Get this on.”

  My hands shook as I dragged it over my head, wincing as the cool, damp cloth clung to my skin. There was a good chance it was inside out, but I didn’t care. We started downstairs, but I stopped, turning to where the house phone sat on a small table in the hall outside the main bathroom.

  “Wait.” I picked up the cordless phone, hitting the button. A busy signal greeted me. “What the…?”

  My stomach dropped.

  The other receiver, the one downstairs, had to be off the hook.

  “It doesn’t matter. My cell is in my truck. Or we can grab yours from your bag.”

  I dropped the cordless phone and hurried down the steps, feeling like at any given moment, a giant half spider, half human would try to snatch me from behind.

  Before we hit the foyer, Jensen stopped and peered around the railing, toward the living room, and then did the same on the other side, looking into the dining room. He snatched up my bag, and then grabbed my hand again.

  As we ran out of the house, he dug out my phone and called the police. He spoke to them as he stowed me away in the truck, and then climbed into the other side. “We’ll stay out front. Okay.” He disconnected the call and handed the phone over. “They’re on their way.”

  I dropped my phone in my lap, staring out the window. The rain had stopped. “Oh, my God…” I pressed my hands to my face, bending over. “Who do you think it was?”

  He
squeezed my shoulder. “I don’t know, but Brock…”

  Brock was missing, meaning he could’ve just gone from suspect to victim in a nanosecond. My fingers curled into my hair as my stomach cramped with nausea.

  “It’ll be okay,” Jensen said, and he said it again and again.

  I looked up, lowering my hands, and my gaze met his. “Someone is hanging in my bedroom. This stuff is not coincidental.”

  “I know.” He removed his hand as he tipped his head against the headrest, staring out the window.

  The police showed then, parking their cruiser in front of Jensen’s truck, blocking him in. A county one appeared behind us. I twisted around, recognizing Shaw. Jensen and I glanced at each other and climbed out.

  The city officer reached us first. “There’s a… a body hanging in my bedroom,” I said. “I don’t know who it is.”

  “Stay here.” The officer’s face was stoic as he turned to Shaw. “You ready.”

  Shaw looked at us like he wanted to lock us up in one of those oxygen bubbles before he nodded. They disappeared into the house.

  Wrapping his arms around me, Jensen pulled me against his chest. I went, closing my eyes. “I’m going to have to call Mom.”

  “I can do it for you.”

  I closed my eyes. “I need to. I don’t want her to hear your voice and think something’s happen.”

  Jensen dropped his chin to the top of my head and fell quiet as he held me. I opened my eyes, trying to see the body in the room, but the details were too fuzzy.

  “Shaw’s coming out,” he said.

  I turned in his arms, my chest locking up. The look on his face made me not want to ask, but I had to. “Who is it?”

  He stepped in front of us and took off his hat. Running his hand over his head, he frowned. “It’s not… it’s not anyone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Shaw lowered his arm. “It was fake—a dummy. Probably a prop left over from the Halloween thing you guys were working on.”

  “Fake?” I whispered. My brain did not comprehend the word.

  Jensen tipped his head back, blowing out a deep breath. “Thank God.”

  “Obviously someone was trying to scare you,” he went on, lowering the volume on his radio. “And it worked. They must have gotten in through your window. Officer Brandis is up there. We’re going to get a crime unit out here to dust for prints, and then we’ll take the damn thing down.”

  I stepped away from Jensen, letting the words sink in as I tugged my still damp hair back from my face. Fake. Someone had broken into my house to hang a fake person.

  I didn’t even know what to do with that.

  “It could be a prank, but with the recent events, I think you should find someone else to stay with,” he suggested.

  “I think that’s a good idea.” Jensen placed his arm over my shoulders. “You could stay with your dad.”

  Shaw nodded. “I think that would be a great idea. He lives in town?”

  “On the other side, near Shepherdstown. In the development near…” As Jensen explained, my attention drifted toward the house.

  The body had been fake.

  But the warning had been clear.

  #

  “But, Mom.”

  Mom placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t want you staying another night in this house. I want you at your father’s.”

  I shifted my weight. “But, what about you?”

  “I’m going to head back to the office, I’m going to get someone out here tomorrow with an alarm, and then I’m going to stay with my sister.” She paused, frowning. “And I think I’m going to apply for a gun permit.”

  My lips pursed. “But—”

  “Honey, I can’t stay at your father’s and I don’t want you in a hotel room. No more arguing. Get your stuff.”

  I was seconds away from stomping my feet. I wanted to stay with my mom. I wanted her, but that wasn’t happening. So, I resorted to pouting.

  She ignored that. “Her father won’t get home until eight.” Mom glanced at Jensen, who was sitting quietly on the recliner, minding his own business. It was like Mom had decided he’d be my babysitter. “Neither will Rose.”

  “I’ll stay with her.”

  “Good.” She shot me a look that said get moving.

  I sighed. Jensen headed upstairs with me. An officer was still in my bedroom, messing with the window. Thank God the dummy had been pulled down and removed. I still hesitated at the door.

  I had no idea how I’d ever sleep in this room again.

  Or this house.

  “Let’s get this done with,” Jensen said, eyeing the officer.

  Feeling out of it, I grabbed a tote from my closet and started shoving clothes in the bag. Every so often, a tremor shook me. I felt kind of numb, and I felt too much. Anger. Fear. Confusion. More anger.

  I wanted this over.

  Grabbing a couple of sweaters, I turned away from the closet and the hangers rocked back and forth.

  I wanted to know who was doing this.

  Bending down, I grabbed some socks, and then moved onto stashing undies into my bag.

  I wanted to know why this was happening.

  Except there were no answers, and the police had no idea who or why they were doing this or when it would be over. No one even knew if Brock was on the run or dead. No one knew anything.

  “I’m done,” I said, shoving the clothes into the bag.

  He arched a brow. “Are you sure? Any other clothes you want to punch?”

  “Maybe.”

  One side of his lips quirked. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

  I picked up my tote from the bed, slinging it over my shoulder. As we left the room, I glanced up at the fan and then the window. No matter how any of this turned out, things would never, ever be the same again.

  And my blood boiled because of that.

  I left my room and tried not to kick a wall as I did so. The cordless phone was still off the charger in the hall. Picking it up, I placed it back in its holder. Who knew why the phone in the kitchen had been taken off the receiver. Just some other way to mess with our heads.

  “We can go to my house for a little while. Mom and Dad won’t be home till late. Both are at the office,” he said as we headed down the stairs.

  “Okay,” I breathed out. “That’ll be fine.”

  He stared at me when we hit the foyer and then nodded. Turning, I walked into the kitchen and said goodbye to Mom. She promised not to hang around the house too long and hit the road. I hugged her twice before I left.

  It felt kind of lame driving the three blocks to Jensen house, but he drove his truck into the driveway. Overcast clouds looked ready to rain again as I left my tote in his truck and slid out of the seat, closing the door behind me. I looked over the yard, biting my lip. Thick hedges blocked the street, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

  Could be something.

  Could be paranoia.

  We passed under the old black walnut tree, watching so we