The List (The Carolina Killer Files Book 2)

by Kiersten Modglin

  “She’s lying!” Melissa cried out. “It’s just him! It’s just—”

  “Shut up,” Cecilia screamed hysterically. “He said if you all go back to your cars now, that’ll be the end of it. Before you make your decision though, there’s something he wants everyone to know.” She put her note down on the ground, pulling a small black box out of her jacket. She placed it on the ground carefully and then turned, running off of the roof in full force.

  Before Jordyn could even question whether or not it could’ve been a bomb, or before anyone else could either, the speakers started up. There were a few throughout downtown, most likely for the festivals Allie said they used to have. They looked as though they hadn’t been used in several years and Jordyn was surprised to hear that they even worked.

  A voice boomed through the speakers: loud, menacing, anonymously filtered so it couldn’t be identified. The voice laughed. “So you’ve finally asked the question, Bates. Who is killing your children? Who murdered your families? The answer?” The voice paused, leaving them all in a haunting silence. “Look around! That’s right, look around!” As if to prove they were really being watched, the voice waited until every head was glancing around to speak again. “The person standing next to you? He did it. The woman in front of you? She did it too. The truth is, I’m not your killer, Bates. Each one of you has more blood on your hands than I do.” The crowd was still. “Hey, Chelsea Nettle, where are you? There you are. Remember your son, what was his name? Dakota? Yes. What ever happened to him, again? Drowning, right? Why don’t you ask Neville Tucker how those holes got in your boat to begin with, huh? Oh, and Carrie Preston, where are you, Carrie?”

  Jordyn looked at Carrie, her eyes wide in horror.

  “Carrie, Carrie, Carrie,” the voice taunted. “You just can’t catch a break, can you, sweetheart? How was it your little girl Kinley died? Poisoning? No, silly me, it was an allergic reaction. Why don’t you ask James Clarke how those peanuts just happened to end up in her cupcakes? Pretty little Hilary Hutson, why don’t you ask your fearless leader Ms. Jordyn Atwood how exactly your house caught on fire that night? Erin Simpson, so sorry to hear about your little slip this morning.” The voice cackled. Everyone in the crowd stood still as stone, Jordyn’s hair standing on end. “Why don’t you ask Ms. Cathleen Porter why your stairs were just so slick?”

  The list went on and on and on. Murder after murder. The people grew restless. A middle aged man stared at his friend in disgust. “How could you? She was only seven years old!”

  Another woman, middle-aged and crying, shouted out, “You knew him! You held me after he died! How could you just hit him and not stop?”

  Crying people, angry people, and distraught people everywhere. People began screaming. If the voice continued, it could no longer be heard. The pandemonium spread like wildfire.

  “We have to calm these people down,” she said to Carrie, but it was clear she wasn’t being heard. Carrie’s face was covered in tears, her wounds all fresh again.

  “Allie,” Jordyn exclaimed, but somehow Allie’s arm had escaped hers and she’d managed to get lost in the crowd. That’s when she heard the first shot. Deafening, earthshattering, the crowd fell silent for only a second, but Jordyn couldn’t see who’d been shot. Another gunshot rang out, then another and another. Having these people angry and armed had turned out to be the worst possible idea, and something told Jordyn this man had known that. The crowd around her began to panic, knives were out, punches being thrown. Jordyn saw someone fall, blood smeared on their face. A body made contact with hers, shoving her to the ground. She rolled over, staring into the tear-filled eyes of Hilary Hutson.

  “Is it true?” she demanded. “You killed my little girl? I don’t understand. You were nice to her. Why?” she screamed, pounding her fists into Jordyn’s stomach.

  Jordyn saw Henry coming her way. He scooped Hilary off of Jordyn. “Go,” he said, struggling to hold her. “Go.”

  Jordyn took off from the crowd, looking for a familiar face. Rick saw her first. “Jordyn, you need to find the woman who has the answers.”

  “I’m not leaving,” she insisted.

  “Don’t you see? This is what he, they, whoever, this is what they want. I’ll try to calm them down, get the guns away. None of it will matter if we still don’t know who’s behind this. The most important thing is that you find her.” He shoved her backwards, away from the crowd, and then disappeared into the ruckus again.

  Jordyn skimmed the crowd, looking for her face anxiously. She’d been next to her just seconds ago, and now she couldn’t catch sight of her. Finally, she caught a glimpse of Melissa’s grey sweatshirt. She made her way through the sea of people, pushing her way passed angry faces and screaming parents.

  “Melissa,” she cried out. Jordyn could see her moving just up ahead, but she was moving through the crowd much quicker than Jordyn was able to. Eventually they came to a point where the crowd had spread out from and she was able to catch her. “Melissa!” she screamed again.

  Melissa turned around to face Jordyn, her face pale white in shock. She held her hands over her stomach, her thin, pale fingers painted with blood.

  “Are you hurt?” Jordyn asked.

  Without a word, Melissa opened her hands, looking down and allowing Jordyn to see the dark blood pooling out of her stomach, purple on her gray sweatshirt. She stumbled backwards, looking around aimlessly. Jordyn reached for her, pulling her own jacket off and wrapping it around her. “Hold on, okay?” she told her. “Just hold on.” She looked around desperately for help, but no one seemed to notice them.

  Her saving grace came in the form of Officer Sullivan. He jolted toward the girls, gun drawn. His eyes fell on Melissa. “What happened?” he demanded.

  “She was shot, I guess. I don’t know. I just found her.” She moved her jacket away so he could see the wound. “It looks really bad.”

  He grabbed the radio on his shoulder, yelling into it. “For God’s sake, this is my third call for backup. Get here. Somebody. We need a bus.” He looked around hopelessly. “We need all of the buses.” Together, Jordyn and Sullivan looked around at the crowd, bodies beginning to litter the ground.

  Melissa stirred in their arms. “Daniel,” she whispered, her eyes blinking slowly, lips shaking.

  “Shhh. It’s okay, Missy, you’re going to be okay.” He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently.

  “We should move her. It’s not safe here,” Jordyn insisted as another fight fell near them.

  “We can’t move her. It could hurt her even more,” he said. “Did you see who shot her?”

  “No,” she answered honestly. “No. I saw her walking away. I just went after her to check on her. When she turned around, she’d already been shot.”

  He pushed a hair away from her face, holding her bloody hands in his. “She was just a child when this all happened, just a baby really. She never deserved this.”

  “Daniel,” Melissa whispered again, raising her fingers toward Jordyn.

  “What is it? What? Did she—” He looked at Jordyn with disdain, reaching for his gun.

  Jordyn held up her hands. “I don’t even have a gun.” She looked at Melissa. “I didn’t do this. I didn’t shoot you, okay? It wasn’t me.”

  Melissa shook her head softly, pulling her hand from Daniel’s. She reached into her front pocket, attempting to pull something out. Daniel helped her, pulling out her wallet. She pushed his hands toward Jordyn.

  “What is it?” Daniel asked.

  She looked at Jordyn, through her eyes full of tears she smiled. “I loved him so much.”

  “You shouldn’t talk,” Daniel told her again, pressing his fingers to her lips gently.

  “She needs to know.” She forced the words out, trying to catch her breath. “I started it all. It was my fault. He, he needs control, that’s what it all comes,” she took in a sharp breath before continuing, “that’s what it all comes down to.” She was silent for a moment, wincing i
n pain. “You have to stop him. Don’t let him hurt anyone else.”

  Jordyn reached for her. At the same time someone fell into Jordyn, knocking her over. Her knee scraped the pavement hard and she screamed out in pain. The bandage on her arm ripped off.

  “Get down!” Kate screamed, landing beside her sister.

  Jordyn released the wallet, allowing it to fly out of her hands as she reached for Kate instinctively. A gunshot echoed in Jordyn’s ear. Kate rolled onto the pavement and the wallet landed face up. Melissa’s words echoed in her ear as Jordyn sat up, checking first on Kate and then looking at the driver’s license of Mrs. Melissa Billson. I started it all.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Four

  HIM

  His first day of freshman year was all a blur. He couldn’t remember his old locker combination or what his first class had been. Instead, he remembered that day as the day he met her.

  He had seen her for the first time standing outside the principal’s office, waiting for her schedule. She was beautiful; that’s what he noticed first. Not in the way that other girls tried to be, with their faces caked with makeup and their pushup bras. This girl was beautiful in a way he hadn’t seen before. He remembered the way the light reflected off of her dark hair and how she smelled of cinnamon gum when she turned to talk to him.

  “I’m Melissa,” she said when he introduced himself. Her front tooth was a tad bit crooked, and he found that he liked it. He offered to show her around and she agreed. She told him that she was a sophomore, a year older than him, but she didn’t seem to mind. After school he’d walked her home, even though it was on the complete other side of town than his grandparent’s house.

  She told him she’d just broken up with her boyfriend from back home, so she didn’t need a new one right now. He told her that was okay, but that he’d like to be friends anyway. He could see in her eyes how far gone she already was, and like he knew she would, she said yes.

  By the middle of the year, he and Melissa were inseparable. When she got her license, they began to date. The very last day of summer before his sophomore year, they stayed up until midnight at Bates Park, watching the stars. She told him how she wanted to be a writer, to write children’s books for her kids someday. He wondered silently if they would be his kids as well, but never had the courage to ask.

  They grew even closer as the year went on. He received his license in the spring and was finally able to take her on an official date. They drove out to Myrtle Beach for the day, both exhausted, salt-covered, and sun burnt by the end of it all. She told him she’d always wanted a beach house. She giggled when he promised her they’d have one someday.

  “Does that mean you’re gonna marry me or something?” she teased, splashing him with water.

  He rubbed his eyes, ignoring the water that burned inside his nose. He didn’t tell her then that he had every intention of marrying her, instead he just laughed it off and pulled her into a kiss.

  On the way home that night she’d fallen asleep. He pulled over for a while, watching her sleep, imaging a time when he would wake up to that every morning. When he dropped her off that night, he drove home thinking of their future.

  His junior year, he was called out of class. When he got to the office, his principal had a grim look on his face. “Son, I’m afraid I have some bad news. It’s about your grandmother.” The words hit him hard: she’d had a stroke. The principal told him he was excused to leave and he should go and see her, say his goodbyes. But he couldn’t move. Then, he felt hands on his back, bringing him back to reality. She rubbed his shoulders gently until he stood.

  “Come on,” she told him, putting his arm over her shoulders. She led him out to her car, helping him into his seat. “It’s gonna be okay,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.

  His throat was dry, lumpy. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe quite right. Somehow, she seemed to understand. They rode to the hospital in silence, her hand on his leg, his mind entirely elsewhere.

  At the hospital, he’d wandered aimlessly through the crowded hallways and silent elevators. When Melissa finally pointed out his grandfather, he felt himself pulled from a trance. The old man stood, his arms outstretched for his only grandson. “Come here, boy,” he whispered, patting him on the back in an awkward, all-consuming hug.

  “Is she?” he asked, afraid that saying the word would make it real. His parents’ death had happened when he was so young that it didn’t feel anything like this. This pain was real, like a fire in the pit of his gut, ripping apart his organs and burning his bones. It coursed through him, devouring all that he had. As his grandfather led him into the room, he felt Melissa let go of his hand for the first time since they’d left the school. He looked back at her, wanting to see her face.

  She smiled at him sadly. “I’ll be here,” she promised. And she was.

  The hospital room, filled with glass walls and noisy machines, was cold and unfriendly. His grandmother lay in the center of the room on a small bed. Her tiny body, with its blue veins and sagging translucent skin, still looked very alive to him. She could’ve just been sleeping. He watched her chest rise and fall, rise and fall, heard her heartbeat under his ear when he laid his head on her chest.

  “Grandpa,” he said, placing his hand on her chest.

  “It’s not her,” he said to the boy. “It’s not your grandma, son. She’s already gone.”

  “But she’s still breathing! I can still feel her pulse. They can still save her,” he pleaded.

  The old man wrapped his arms around him again. “There’s nothing they can do. This isn’t what your grandmother wanted.”

  He shook his head. “There’s always something that can be done. Always.”

  ***

  That night, he couldn’t go home. The thought of the empty house was enough to make him sick. Melissa drove him out to the beach again, taking him toward the coast. They stood on the shore, letting the tide hit their feet. Something that had brought him so much joy during his last trip, only broke his heart more now. His grandma would never see the ocean again.

  The water was different at night, more menacing somehow. He stared across the deep, dark water for hours on end, unable to form words.

  She laid out beach towels for them and when he was ready, he joined her laying on them. She placed her head on his chest, rising and falling with each breath, and watched him. He stared at the stars, trying to prevent the tears that stung his eyes from falling. In the end, they fell anyway. She pretended not to see them, which he loved her more for. She rubbed circles on his chest with her fingers. Eventually, she simply asked, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

  He shook his head, though he didn’t trust his voice yet.

  She nodded.

  “We should swim,” he told her after a few minutes of silence.

  “We can’t swim at night, you dork. Jellyfish are out,” she teased him, kissing his chest.

  He shrugged, kissing her forehead. She looked up, her eyes locking with his. He sat up, pulling her face to his. They kissed then, like they hadn’t before. The kiss filled the dark, empty parts of his soul, where just hours before he’d been sure they’d never warm again.

  He pulled her on top of him, wanting her desperately. She’d told him once that she was saving herself, but tonight that didn’t seem to matter to either of them. She pulled her shirt off, revealing a black bra.

  “Is this okay?” she asked, stopping their kisses suddenly.

  Without a word, he pulled her bra off, forcing her mouth to his. Within minutes, they were both stark naked, staring at each other’s bodies in awe. The shadows cast by the clouds covering the face of the moon made her even more breathtaking. His body responded to her instantly. He pulled a condom from his wallet, one he’d been saving for over a year now.

  She kissed his chest. He turned her over and slid into her. “I love you,” she whispered.

  So, he thought, this is what I’ve been missing.

  ***

>   By the end of the year, Melissa was all he ever thought about. They hardly left each other’s side. So, when she told him she was thinking of applying to school on the west coast, he was stunned. It would mean a year apart for them, a year he couldn’t stand.

  “Can’t you go to college here? There are so many schools close to here. At least for a year, then we can go wherever you want.”

  She kissed his nose playfully, tussling his hair. “You’ve known that I want to move away from Bates. This place is my home, you’re my home, but I have to try other places.”

  “Other places or other people?” he asked hatefully, fixing his hair back.

  “Don’t do that,” she said. “Don’t be like that. You know I love you. It’s just one year. We’ll still talk constantly. I’ll be home on breaks. If we can’t last a year apart, what does that say about our love?” She touched his nose again.

  He brushed her away. “Stop it. Don’t treat me like I’m some child. I’m your boyfriend, Melissa. I thought I meant more to you than that.”

  She scooted toward him on her bed. “You mean everything to me. Everything. This isn’t about you. It isn’t about us. It’s just about me. Nothing changes here.” She tapped his heart and then her own.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ve applied to several schools here too. No decision has been made yet.”

  Still, he couldn’t say anything.

  “Babe, don’t be like this,” she begged.

  He kissed her cheek. “I just love you.”

  “I love you too.”