“A cut. That’s all?” Alec shook his head. “What about Devon?”
“Well, I saw him walking around outside shortly before they found Francesca—”
“You saw Devon at the crime scene?”
“Not exactly. I saw him leaving the yard. But at the time, he wasn’t with Francesca.”
“How can you defend him? Don’t you realize what you’re doing? You’re so desperate to prove that Devon is innocent that you’re drawing incorrect conclusions.”
He nodded toward a black Jeep parked at the end of the street. “Major wants to have a talk with us.”
“Why? Did you already tell him how you think I’m messing up?”
He released a breath and turned his head away, leaving me to stare at his profile, at the way his tendons strained in his throat. “You act like I’m some kind of traitor. I’m not telling Major everything, you know. I’m just trying to do my job and keep you safe.”
Major watched us with a grim face as we slid into the backseat. Alec and I told Major what we’d seen, and despite Alec’s earlier rebuff, I voiced my suspicion about Ryan. Finally Major spoke.
“I agree with Alec. And I think it’s time for us to focus our efforts on our main suspect.”
I knew who that was.
“You saw Devon with the dead girl just moments before her body was found, and now he’s gone. We finally have to act on our suspicions. My instinct tells me that he’s the Variant we’re looking for.”
He paused, searching my face. My fingernails dug into my palms.
“I want you to search Devon’s room. It’s possible he’s hiding something that’ll prove his guilt, or perhaps you can find out who’ll be his next victim. Look through his belongings, corner him, watch for unusual behavior. Change into him and talk to his friends if you must. Do everything that’s necessary to stop him.”
CHAPTER 20
* * *
The following day, I spent most of the morning at the police station and the rest of the day with Linda, who didn’t let me out of her sight. I hadn’t seen Devon yet. Ronald had taken him to speak with the police on his way in to work, and he’d been closed off in his room since the moment he got home. I had a feeling that he was purposely avoiding me.
A clattering came from the kitchen—the sound of pots being placed into the cupboards. I followed the noise downstairs and stopped in the doorway. Linda’s blond hair was in a high ponytail, revealing the chain of her matching rose necklace. She wiped her hands and gave me that smile that made me feel like I was the best thing that had ever happened to her.
I looked away.
She scanned my face. “You look pale, sweetheart.” Her blue eyes crinkled with worry.
“I’m fine, Mom. Just a bit tired.”
“Are you sure it’s nothing serious? Maybe we should go to Dr. Fonseca.”
“It’s nothing.” Except for the fact that your son is the main suspect in our murder case. It would kill her if it was true. How could parents possibly survive something like that? Finding out about their daughter’s death and then that their other child was the killer.
Linda’s eyes searched my face before she nodded reluctantly. “Let me make you some hot chocolate.”
Her skin was sickly pale. She’d broken down crying when she’d found out about Francesca, and it hadn’t helped matters that I had been at the same party. The whole town was in a state of panic, some families going so far as to evacuate the area. If we didn’t catch the killer soon, people would tear down the police station.
The smell of chocolate wafted through the kitchen. Linda sprinkled a few mini marshmallows into the cup before she handed it to me. It was the best hot chocolate in the world.
Steps pounded down the staircase and Devon bounded into the kitchen. Dark shadows were spread under his eyes. My hands started shaking, so I had to put my cup down.
Linda kissed his cheek before she pressed another cup into his hands and made him sit down across from me at the table. I stared at the tabletop, not wanting to look into his eyes. I’d have to face him soon, but not in front of Linda.
You can’t protect her forever, a tiny voice whispered in my head. But I wanted to try. I was still haunted by Linda’s terrified expression when she heard about the latest murder.
I could feel Devon’s eyes on my face, prodding, searching, but I didn’t look up to meet his gaze. Bringing the cup to my lips, I took another gulp, braced myself, and forced my face into an expressionless mask. I raised my eyes. He frowned. After a glance over at Linda, who was rinsing the hot chocolate pot, he mouthed, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I mouthed right back.
He didn’t buy it.
“Tired,” I whispered, surprised how calm my voice sounded.
Linda dried the dishes, unaware of the tension right across the room. When she was done, she turned to us. “I’m heading to bed. I don’t feel well.” She took a bottle of sleeping pills from the drawer below the sink and popped two into her mouth. She smiled apologetically. “I guess I’ve had trouble sleeping lately.”
I sat the cup down on the table and stood. “I should probably try to catch up on rest too.” It was still early evening, but I didn’t want to stay in a room alone with Devon. Even if I still questioned his guilt. He stared at his cocoa, not even glancing my way.
When I’d left the kitchen, I heard Devon’s chair scrape over the floor. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know he was following me up the stairs.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“You’ve been acting weird,” I said, stopping in front of my room.
“You’re one to talk. It’s like I don’t even recognize you sometimes,” he shot back.
“What do—” I stopped myself. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” I shook my head. “Forget it. I’m tired.” I stepped into my room and closed the door, and he didn’t try to stop me.
Devon was our main suspect. Alec had said it and Major agreed, so why couldn’t I shake the feeling that I was missing something?
I listened for Devon’s footsteps in the corridor, expecting him to head into his room. Instead he went downstairs, and the front door fell shut. This was my chance.
I tiptoed into the corridor. The house was silent. Ronald would be gone all night, keeping watch over a dog with a gastric torsion. His and Linda’s bedroom door was ajar. I peeked in to see Linda sprawled out on the bed, her lips drifting apart as soft snores echoed from them. I closed the door carefully and moved on to Devon’s room.
Devon was surprisingly tidy for a guy, with all of his belongings seemingly in place. I’d seen rooms inhabited by boys at the FEA that had given me a rash just from looking at them.
I wasn’t sure where Devon had gone or how long he would be, so I had to hurry. I didn’t know what Major and Alec expected me to find. Many serial killers kept souvenirs of the victims as trophies to remind them of their success. Months later, I still remembered the photos and descriptions of different serial killer cases I’d studied in class. Some had been so horrible that I still had nightmares about them. One guy kept body parts of the women he’d killed. The police had found tongues, fingers, and even eyes in his freezer.
But I still couldn’t imagine Devon killing someone—much less his own twin sister.
Kneeling in front of the bed, I lifted the mattress and found . . . a Playboy. I looked behind the posters on his walls and in his wardrobe. But there was nothing interesting.
My eyes fell on the desk. It was an obvious spot and the last place I’d hide something I wouldn’t want anyone to find, but maybe he thought nobody would look.
I hesitated, my fingers resting on the knob of the desk drawer. Get a grip, I thought. It’s not like you’re going to find body parts. There’s probably nothing in here.
And so I opened it.
A stack of photos was on top. Regular photos, from some party: Devon with his friends, Devon with Ryan—had they been friends before the breakup? De
von with Francesca, smiling and locking lips.
They hadn’t officially been a couple, but apparently that hadn’t stopped them from hooking up on more than one occasion. I put the photos down and froze. In the drawer, beneath where the photos had been, was a pile of snippets from newspaper articles. All of them appeared to be about the murders—articles about the victims, printed-out Wikipedia pages about serial killers, and information about the case. Had he been trying to keep this stuff hidden? Information about Mr. Chen the janitor, Dr. Hansen, and Kristen Cynch were scribbled down in Devon’s handwriting. It was hard to decipher in places, but he’d gathered a wealth of information about each of them: their habits, family members, friends, and daily routines.
I carefully placed the evidence back into the drawer and scanned the room for other hiding places, but there didn’t seem to be anything else suspicious. As I crossed to exit the room, the tip of my shoe caught on something uneven. One of the wooden floorboards seemed to be raised. I nudged it and the wood jiggled—it was loose. I pried my fingernails into the gap, and with a tug the board popped out. I dropped it, hands shaking, and reached for what was hidden beneath, but my fingers stopped before I could touch it.
It was a necklace with a rose pendant, identical to the one Ronald had given me. Madison’s necklace. It was encrusted with something black—dried blood. I didn’t dare move it. Gasping, I sank down onto my butt. Devon must have taken the necklace when he killed Madison. As a trophy. That was the only explanation. I’d read the reports. Madison had been found at the lake without it.
I couldn’t believe it. Devon was the killer. He’d always been so nice, so caring and attentive, and I’d even started feeling attracted to him in a very unsisterly way. That alone should have been proof something was wrong with him.
I’d been so sure Devon wasn’t the killer, had been so sure Alec’s suspicions were founded on dislike or jealousy. Why hadn’t my instincts lead me to realize the truth? Alec wasn’t jealous of Devon after all. Alec didn’t let his emotions get in the way of our mission. He was the better agent, the better person, the better everything.
I’d almost forgotten to watch the time when I heard footsteps on the staircase.
I looked around for a place to hide. If Devon found me here, he’d know I’d been spying on him and would have every reason to come after me. There was a creak in the hallway.
I dropped to my knees and squeezed under the bed. A moment later, Devon’s sneakers came into view. He hesitated in the doorway. I held my breath but my pulse pounded in my ears.
He stepped inside and closed the door, his calm breathing the only audible sound. I held my breath and watched his shoes—black with the white Nike logo. Dew drops glistened on them as if he’d waded through fog. They moved past me and toward his dresser.
He crouched down and loosened another floorboard. If he turned around, he’d see me just as clearly as I could see him. I steeled myself as he reached into the hole in the floor and pulled out a hunting knife. Had he used it to cut the A’s into his victims?
He straightened and came toward the bed. I tensed my legs, preparing to kick him if he spotted me, but he fumbled with something on his nightstand. My lungs screamed for air but I didn’t dare breathe with him so close. He would hear the sound. But then he turned and disappeared into the corridor, leaving the door ajar. Sucking in a deep breath, I waited for his steps to move down the staircase before I wiggled out of my hiding place. My legs shook as I straightened.
I touched the rose pendant around my neck.
Devon was leaving. Was he going to kill again? I hurried toward the window, careful to stay pressed against the wall, so nobody could see me from outside. A figure crossed the yard and continued down the street. Soon he’d disappear around the corner.
Not if I was fast enough.
I dashed into Madison’s room, grabbed my cell phone and the Taser, and stepped back into the hall. A cough from Linda and Ronald’s bedroom made me freeze. Even so, there was no time to spare. I ran down the stairs and was out of the house within seconds, just in time to see Devon turn the corner. My ballet flats made no sound as I jogged over the concrete, following him. Devon wasn’t running, but he was walking incredibly fast. I kept as much distance as I could without losing him.
I fumbled with the cell phone and pressed the speed dial key. I needed to tell Alec that Devon was the killer. I tried Alec’s cell but it went straight to voice mail. Devon looked over his shoulder, and I pressed myself against the side of a parked SUV. He kept moving. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. I, on the other hand, had no idea.
Keeping an eye on Devon, I shot Alec a quick text.
Following Devon. He’s the killer. Is up to something. Update soon.
Alec would want me to wait for backup, but there was no time. I could handle it. I sent off the text, switched my cell to silent, and stuffed it into the pocket of my jeans.
We advanced to a part of town where the street lights were few and far between. Long stretches of our path were cloaked in darkness. My breath and the soft pad-pad of my shoes on concrete were the only sounds around us. In the distance I could make out the occasional glow of a window or a street lamp. Devon turned onto a gravel road. I followed, keeping to the roadside so the crunch of pebbles wouldn’t give me away. Trees towered on both sides of us, shielding what little light the moon could give.
CHAPTER 21
* * *
The road led to an old, abandoned house that could have been the set of a horror movie. Hitchcock would have approved. Frazzled, yellowed curtains fluttered in broken windows. Several of the facade’s grayed panels were missing, and the front door was nailed up with boards.
But none of it stopped Devon. As if he’d done it hundreds of times before, he climbed through the window beside the front door.
What was he here to do?
A bang sounded in the house.
I took out the Taser and hurried toward the house. Pressing my back against the facade, I held my breath. The wind whistled in my ears. I inched closer to the window, clutching the Taser against my chest and wishing I’d taken another weapon with me.
I peeked into the house. Light filtered from somewhere deep inside into what looked like a living room. Careful not to touch the jagged remnants of the window, I climbed inside, flinching when mist encircled my feet. It covered the entire floor.
The air in the house was moldy and as cold as it was outside. A moth-eaten couch and a small table with a vase of dust-covered artificial flowers were the only adornments. I took a few steps further into the room, mist swirling around my ankles, and moved toward a half-closed door that led into the hall.
A floorboard creaked under my weight and I froze.
Except for the sound of my breathing, the house was completely silent. Where was Devon?
The mist cleared slightly as if it was trailing somewhere after its master. Keeping an eye on the shaky floorboards beneath me, I cautiously crossed the room.
My heart fluttered in my chest as I risked a glimpse of what lay beyond the door. The only light came from somewhere in the back of the building. My eyes landed on a black shadow on the ground. It looked like a pool of paint had run in a puddle around it. Sickness lurched in my stomach. I inched closer to get a better look, and icy spikes pierced through my spine.
On the ground, in a puddle of his own blood, lay Devon. He was sprawled on his back, his blond hair matted to his head. A few tendrils of fog whirled around him like spidery tentacles. Checking left and right, I hurried toward him and knelt down, shivering as blood seeped through the fabric of my jeans. It still felt warm against my skin.
A dent had flattened the side of Devon’s head. It didn’t look like it was supposed to. I reached out but stopped when I saw something white poking out of his hair. Brain or skull, I couldn’t tell. I had to brace myself to keep from vomiting.
My fingers shook as I pressed them against his throat. Nothing.
I slid my hand along
his skin. Up and down. To the left, then to the right. Trying with every finger of my hand to find some sign of life.
Still nothing.
I hovered over his face, then pressed my lips against his blood-smudged mouth, pushing air in. With a hiss, something shot out of his chest and hit me against the arm. I scrambled back. Splatters of blood covered my arm.
I stared down at his chest. Seven holes had oozed blood and his sweatshirt was soaked with it. Someone had stabbed him repeatedly. Shaking, I leaned over and pushed another breath into his mouth. Again something hit me. More blood.
I leaned back on my haunches, a dark realization settling in my mind. His lungs were perforated.
Gasps rattled my body and turned to pathetic hiccups as tears trailed over my cheeks. Devon was dead.
I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, trying to catch his scent one last time. A hint of cinnamon reached my nose, but it was soon clouded by the coppery saltiness of blood.
Gripping the Taser, I staggered to my feet. My nails dug into my skin and the pain gave me the necessary focus to stop my chin from quivering.
A floorboard creaked behind me and I whirled around in time to see something hurtling toward my head but not in time to ward it off. With a crack the thing collided with my skull and blackness consumed me.
• • •
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been unconscious, but when I came to, my muscles ached. I was on the ground, my feet and hands tied together. With a groan, I forced my eyes open. Through the open window, I could make out the treetops and the black sky littered with stars. It was still night, so not too much time had passed.
I shifted. My cell was gone and so was the Taser. I didn’t even know what room I was in. It was much too dark for that.
Across the room, a shadow moved and I froze. Tendrils of haze crawled toward me, emanating from a cloud of denser fog. I twisted until I was sitting upright. It wouldn’t protect me but at least I felt safer, more alert. A shadow stirred, slowly becoming distinguishable. The mist dispersed and a person appeared, still hidden by darkness. He moved in front of the door, where a tiny bit of light streamed in, and finally I recognized the illuminated face.
Impostor A Variants Novel Page 19
