Jill said that 5 HTP “just did that,” and that if I waited it out, I’d be fine.
So, I did.
And, eventually, my heart stopped pounding.
But it kept me from falling asleep all afternoon. By the time the palpitations stopped, it was early evening, and it was already dark. I ended up falling asleep without setting my alarm, and I missed all my morning classes the next day.
Which should have made me panic or something. I was generally a pretty conscientious student. Thing was, it hardly seemed to matter right then. Nothing mattered.
I went to the dining hall around noon, and I got some food. Then I went to my afternoon class—which I hadn’t done the reading for.
It turned out fine. The professor basically went over everything that was in the chapter. As I struggled to copy down all his notes, I realized that this professor always did that. He went over the assigned chapter as a lecture. I resolved to stop reading for that class. It was a waste of time.
After my afternoon class, I had a big gap of time until my last class of the day, which started at three o’clock and went until nearly six o’clock. It was the only time the class met, so I’d had to take it then, but it wasn’t my favorite time for class. Also, it only met once a week, so it was really easy to forget if I had work for it.
I realized that I had a paper that was due in there, so I went to the library and did my best to bang the paper out in an hour and a half. I could tell it was not my best work.
I didn’t care. It was done, and that was more than I could say about it an hour ago.
I printed out the paper and worried about myself.
I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. I wasn’t acting the way that I normally did. I hadn’t gotten into the honors program at Keene because I generally blew off my responsibilities. It was the opposite. Usually, I worked really hard and made sure that I got everything done. Not only did I take care of doing what was expected of me, I also had a sense of pride in my work. I strove for excellence in everything I set my mind to.
Basically, I was pretty sure that doing a lot of ecstasy was turning me into a delinquent.
I wasn’t sure what it was about that drug.
I wasn’t, like, addicted to it.
I mean, not like heroin or cigarettes or something. Not doing it didn’t make me feel bad or give me shakes or make me steal TVs or something.
In fact, the way I was feeling now, I was pretty sure that doing it was making me feel like crap. It was depleting my serotonin, and now I couldn’t care about anything at all. I was depressed.
Still, even knowing that, I still wanted to do it again.
Because it felt so damned good. I’d never felt anything that felt as good as ecstasy. Ecstasy was like a full-body, six-hour orgasm. (Except it wasn’t exactly sexual.)
Ecstasy was pure bliss. It was joy. It was like the most wonderful soulful, spiritual experience I’d ever had.
It felt so fucking good.
I wished I felt that good right then.
Unfortunately, I’d lit a match to all my serotonin. Now I was burnt out and wasted. And everything sucked.
I went to my three-hour class.
I turned in my paper.
We had to work in groups for the first hour, but I didn’t contribute much.
For the second hour, my professor did a lecture and talked to us all about what we were reading in the textbook.
I checked out.
I thought about Cori and how I was no closer to finding her murderer.
I went over the suspects in my head. Adam Townsend, the creepy creative writing instructor. Kelly Willow, the understudy. Jonah King, the gay friend. Raven Garwood, the girl who’d gotten Cori’s spot in the creative writing class.
But I was pretty sure that I’d eliminated the gay friend and the understudy. Also, Raven had an alibi.
So that left Townsend.
And Wyatt. And Parker.
And Chase O’Shaunessy.
But as I was thinking through all of these people, I realized that I didn’t freaking care about any of it. I didn’t have the energy to try to figure out who killed Cori Donovan.
I didn’t have the energy for anything.
All I wanted to do was go home and sleep.
I barely managed to make it through the rest of the class.
When I left, it was just getting dark outside. The street lamps were already on, and the air was brisk and nippy.
I pulled my gloves on, jammed my hands into my pockets, tucked my chin inside my coat and began walking back to my dorm.
It was cold and empty outside, no sound except for an occasional car coming by. The cold winter air invaded my lungs, stinging and sharp. It bit at my cheeks.
I shivered and kept walking. Hopefully, if I kept moving, I’d get warm soon.
Not that it mattered.
Because nothing mattered. Nothing mattered at all.
There was a car going slowly up the road.
Damn. It was a residential street, and the speed limit was slow, but not that slow.
I turned to see it. Maybe I could wave the driver past, or convince him to speed up somehow.
It was a van—one of those kinds with no windows in the back.
It pulled up right next to me.
Whoa. That was weird, wasn’t it?
The door to the van opened up.
“That’s her,” said a male voice.
Wait a second. Was that Pumbaa driving the van?
Two big guys leaped out of the van and grabbed me.
I opened my mouth to scream.
But a gloved hand slapped over my mouth—and I couldn’t breathe, let alone make noise.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“We been driving around all afternoon trying to find you, bitch,” said Pumbaa. “You never bothered to give us a name.”
I was sitting in the back seat of the van, flanked by two guys. Each one held one of my arms.
My heart was thudding under my rib cage. I was terrified. What was I doing in the back of this van?
“So, what’s your name?”
I didn’t say anything.
One of the guys next to me nudged me. “Hey. Answer him.”
I clamped my lips together.
The other guy elbowed me.
“Ow,” I said. That had hurt.
“Answer him.” There were layers of threat in his voice.
I knew that if I didn’t say something, they’d hurt me again. Hurt me worse. I had a pretty good idea about how these guys worked.
“Molly,” I said. My throat was dry. It came out grating and hoarse.
“Molly what?” asked Pumbaa.
Should I tell him my last name?
On the one hand, if he knew who I was, he might be nicer to me.
Or he might be worse. I might become a lot more valuable. They might not let me go.
I was reasonably sure that the O’Shaunessys had not picked me up because of who I was. They’d picked me up because of what I’d done with Levi. So, if I kept it from them, then they might never figure it out.
“Connelly,” I said. That sounded Irish. It even sounded close.
“Molly Connelly,” said Pumbaa. “How long you been going to Keene?”
“Since the beginning of the semester.”
“You just transfered here,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Well, isn’t that interesting,” he said. “And you come to see me with Levi to ask questions about Cori Donovan. Funny kinds of questions. So, you really expect us not to see through all that? You think we’re stupid or something?”
“See through it?” I said.
“Yeah,” said Pumbaa. “We know who you are.”
“Y-you do?” But they hadn’t even known my name. How could they know?”
“You bet we do.” He pulled the van to a stop with a screech. “Get her out of there, guys.”
The two guys who held me yanked me out of the van.
Pumba
a was already waiting for them.
We were in a parking lot behind some kind of nondescript building. I couldn’t tell where we were. There were a few lights attached to the eaves. They shone in blue-white circles.
The two guys were still holding onto my arms.
If I could get away from them, could I make a run for it?
Which way should I run?
I looked over my shoulder. I couldn’t see anything outside the circles of light. It was black and empty and cold out there.
“Check her pockets,” said Pumbaa.
The two guys dug their hands into my pockets.
“Hey,” I said. “What are you doing?”
I didn’t have anything in my pockets, not even my car keys, because I’d moved my car up to the freshman parking lot on Sunday night. It was too far away to bother with during the week, so I rarely drove it.
“Nothing there,” said one of the guys.
“Maybe in her jacket.” The other guy reached for the zipper to my coat.
“Stop.” I tried to wriggle away from them.
They held me fast. They unzipped my coat.
The cold air hit my exposed skin. I only wore a thin sweater underneath. I cried out, really afraid now. Were they undressing me?
Their hands reached inside my coat, searching, feeling around.
I whimpered. Maybe I should just tell them my actual last name. Maybe that would stop this. Maybe then they’d keep their hands away.
“No pockets in the coat,” reported the guy.
“Where is it?” said Pumbaa. “Don’t you have it on you?”
“Have what?” My teeth chattered.
They began running their hands over my skin.
“Stop it,” I said, my breath starting to come in gasps. “Please stop it.”
“You packing?” said one of the guys. “Where’s your gun? Tell us, and we won’t touch you.”
“I don’t have a gun!” I was terrified. “Why would you think that?”
“Just throw her in with him,” said Pumbaa. “She obviously doesn’t have anything on her.”
Anything like what? And who was I getting thrown in with?
* * *
They tossed me into a big, empty room. The only thing in there were stacks of wooden pallets along one wall. It was lit with a single light bulb that hung from a chain and swung, making crazy shadows on the walls and ceiling.
“Molly?”
I looked around to see the source of the voice.
Levi was sitting on a stack of pallets. He stood up when he saw me. “Molly, Jesus, what are you doing here?”
“Levi?” My voice was a squeak. “They grabbed me after my class.”
He came to me. “You okay?”
“They searched me for something. I don’t know what. They thought I might have a gun. I don’t understand. Why did they take us? It’s something to do with Cori, isn’t it? With us asking questions?” Oh god. Levi had been right. We should never have gotten mixed up with the O’Shaunessy family. This was dangerous. What if they killed us? What if they hurt us?
“I don’t know what they’re doing,” he said. He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger and inspected my face. “You okay? Did they hurt you?”
“No,” I said. “But they touched me all over when they were trying to find out if I had a gun.”
He hugged me. “I’m sorry.”
I clung to him. “Oh my god, Levi. I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid,” he said.
“What if something bad happens?”
“Don’t think like that. It makes everything harder.”
“How do you know that? You think you’re going to do something on your own?” I pushed out of his arms. “Because there’s only one of you, and there are lots and lots of them. And last time, they beat you up.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not going to try to fight anyone. Just stay calm. Maybe we can talk our way out of this.”
I bit down on my lip, twisting my fingers together. I wondered if I could get us out of this. If I told them my name—my real name—would that mean that they let us go?
The door to the room opened.
A guy walked in. He was tall with a shaved head and chiseled features. He was actually pretty good looking.
Levi eyed him. “Chase.”
“That’s Chase O’Shaunessy?” I said.
“In the flesh,” said Chase. “So, what? You two leave your badges at home?”
“Badges?” I said. What was he talking about?
“Don’t play dumb,” said Chase. “It’s pretty obvious. The two of you come into the bar and ask a bunch of nosy questions about Cori Donovan. And we’ve always had our suspicions about Levi, trying to get in good with the family.”
He wasn’t making any sense at all. “Look, whatever you think,” I said, “it’s not true. We’re not a threat to you.” Well, at least we weren’t if he hadn’t killed Cori. If he had… I wanted to get justice for her, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage that.
“Oh, sure,” said Chase. “You going to offer me a deal. If I roll over on my own relatives, you’ll set me up with a new identity and a new life? No, thank you. No one’s going down except you two.”
I furrowed my brow and looked at Levi. “What is he talking about?”
Chase laughed. “Oh, she’s good, isn’t she? Almost like she really doesn’t know.”
“She doesn’t,” said Levi. “Neither do I.”
“What I can’t figure out,” said Chase, “is what kind of cops you are. If you were so interested in the family, I don’t see why you’d be interested in Cori’s murder. Unless that’s the way you’re trying to get in. You figure you arrest me for that, and then you try to get me to flip or something?”
My jaw dropped open. “You think we’re cops?”
Chase nodded. “Don’t play it like that, sweetheart. You’re cops. Levi worked alone, but he must not have been getting the results they wanted, so they sent you in to have his back. Guys said you just transferred here this spring.”
“I’m not a cop.” I raised my chin defiantly. “I would never be a cop. I don’t even like cops.”
Chase laughed. “You think denying it is going to change my mind?”
“I’m not denying it. I’m just telling you the truth,” I said.
Chase looked at Levi.
Levi glared at him. “You got it wrong, man.”
“So, then, why did you come poking around asking questions?”
“Because I moved into Cori’s old room,” I said. “And I have to know what happened to her.”
Chase raised his eyebrows. “You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s like penance for a mistake I made,” I said.
“She’s bribing me to help her out,” said Levi.
Chase looked back and forth between us. “That’s the stupidest cover story I ever heard in my life.”
“Because it’s not a cover story,” I said. “It’s the truth. We’re not cops. If we were cops, we’d have a better cover story.”
Chase rubbed his forehead. “Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t.”
I hugged myself. “What are you going to do to us?” If he said he was going to hurt us, I’d tell him my last name. Then he’d know we weren’t cops. Or would he think I was making it up? Maybe I’d lost my chance to play that card.
Besides, what were the odds he’d tell us if he were going to kill us?
Chase narrowed his eyes. “You’re really not cops.”
“No,” I said.
“No,” said Levi.
Chase pointed at Levi. “But you’re always acting like a cop.”
“I am? How?”
“Trying to find out where we get our stuff, who makes the drugs, where big deals are going down. You always had your nose in all of that.”
Levi looked at his shoes. “Because I wanted to go direct to the distributor and not through you guys. Not because I’m a cop.”
Chase smirked. “You little weasel.”
Levi looked at him. “Cori figured out how to do it.”
“Yeah, that fucking bitch screwed a lot of shit up.”
“Did you kill her?” I asked.
He rounded on me. “Thought you weren’t a cop.”
“I want to know what happened to Cori.”
Chase stroked his chin, as if he were considering something. “Okay, okay. You guys aren’t cops? Prove it.”
“Prove it?” Levi said. “How are we supposed to do that?”
Chase pulled a baggy out of his pocket. It was full of white pills. He opened the baggy. “Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.”
Levi laughed. “Oh, come on, what’s that going to prove?”
“Don’t want to do the molly, Levi? Why is that, because you’re a cop?”
“No,” said Levi, “because your stuff is cut with speed, and it’s the furthest thing from molly—”
“My own personal stash,” said Chase. “Trust me, this is pure. You swallow the little pill, and then maybe I’ll decide to believe you.”
“Motherfucker.” Levi sighed. “Fine.” He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue in an exaggerated motion.
Chase put the pill on his tongue. “Swallow it.”
Levi grimaced. He closed his mouth and swallowed.
“Open your mouth,” said Chase. “Lift your tongue.”
Levi complied. “You got some water or something?”
“Oh, you’ll survive.” Chase turned to me. “Your turn, sweetheart.” He held up a pill.
I let him place it on my tongue, and then I dry swallowed it.
Chase grinned. “I’ll be back.” He went to the door.
“Wait,” said Levi. “We took the pills. We’re not cops. You can’t still keep us here.”
“I can,” said Chase. “I think we should give it a chance to kick in, don’t you? I want to make sure you’re enjoying it.”
* * *
Levi buried his face in his hands. “Shit.”
I hugged myself. “They aren’t going to let us go, are they?”
He didn’t answer me.
“And, oh hell, I’m barely recovered from taking that last ecstasy pill I took. I spent all day so freaking depressed. This is going to zap what little serotonin I have left. I’ll probably end up suicidal or something.” I paced the floor of the room. Then another thought occurred to me. “I’m going to be wrecked tomorrow. I missed half of my classes today because I slept too long. Now, I’m going to miss all my classes tomorrow. I’m going to fail out of school. Out of Keene. Who the fuck fails out of a public fucking college, huh?”
Frenzy Page 15
