Mr. Taylor, the school’s basketball coach, came on screen with a grim look on his face. He was normally young-looking for his age, but today he looked haggard and worn out. His short, dark hair was messy, and I could see why as he moved his hand to the top of his head and roughed it up some more. He was nervous about being on TV and maybe even worried to put his face out there for the killer to see. If there was a killer. I shook my head to get rid of that thought. There had to be a killer—why else would a young girl drop dead in the woods?
Marissa raised the microphone to her mouth. “Mr. Taylor, how is the news of Sophie Peters’ death affecting you, as someone who spends a lot of time with the kids in this town?” She held the microphone to his mouth and waited for his response.
Mr. Taylor shook his head. “It’s horrible. How could anyone harm a child, or anyone for that matter, like that? That poor little girl. She had so much to live for.”
Marissa pulled the microphone to her mouth again. “It truly is such a tragic event.”
I stood watching the news with Mr. Woodward for a while. It went on like that until Mr. and Mrs. Tyson, the town’s preacher and his wife, stepped on screen. Marissa asked them how the news of Sophie’s death was affecting them, and they answered the same as everyone else. It was sad, tragic, and shocking. There wasn’t much variation in the statements, which for some reason bothered me. They were all talking about a girl they barely knew. They didn’t know anything about her, so they could only say the generic, “It’s a tragedy.” Mason would have had something different to say, even if it was just to say that it happened, and while he missed his sister he couldn’t bring her back now.
Then Marissa asked, “What do you think is the scariest thing about this situation?”
Mrs. Tyson leaned toward the microphone. “I think the thing that’s hitting home the most is that someone in this town is a killer. One of our own is capable of murder. It’s scary that it could be anyone. Someone is hiding in plain sight, and targeted this girl for a reason. It’s horrifying. We have other children in town. What do we do to keep them safe? Tell them they can’t talk to people they’ve known their whole lives? Say, ‘You can’t talk to anyone’ until this is solved? These people are our friends. What makes someone do this to friends and families?”
Mr. Tyson shook his head sadly.
Marissa brought the mic to her mouth and turned back to the camera. “Without the reports from the autopsy, it has yet to be confirmed that Sophie’s death was a murder.”
“It sure sounds like a murder to me,” Mrs. Tyson mumbled, but the microphone picked it up.
“If it turns out that Sophie was indeed murdered, then it is possible that the killer could have been someone just passing through town. It happens on TV all the time,” Marissa said, her voice a little too bubbly for her statement. Maybe she was upset that Mrs. Tyson had interrupted her on television, and was forcing the positive attitude out. Maybe working this case was her first big step up in her career. Either way, I scoffed at the remark. Nothing that happens on TV is ever how it happens in real life.
Mr. Woodward grunted. He raised his eyes to me and shook his head slowly. “It’s a tragedy either way, but I do hope it was someone just passing through town. They may never catch who did it, but at least then it’s not someone who lives here. Could you imagine it being one of us who killed that young girl? I wouldn’t be able to look at the person again.”
I nodded in agreement, but my thoughts had drifted further than our conversation. If it was someone passing through, then why target Sophie? Was she just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was it something more sinister?
Chapter 7
Overdose
Math class. It had to be my most hated subject in school. I never did well, no matter how hard I tried, and frankly I think Mr. Miller just took pity on me. He tried extremely hard to explain calculus in a way that would make sense to me, but honestly I didn’t think it ever would. There had to be a major I could take in college that required little to no math. I don’t think I could make it through college math when I could barely pass it in high school. Sometimes the stress and frustration at my lack of understanding made me want to tear my hair out.
I sighed, resting my head on one hand and staring at the front of the room with obvious boredom on my face as Mr. Miller continued to discuss disk and washer methods, whatever those were. All I knew was he had a picture of Jabba the Hutt on the chalkboard, a rather poorly drawn Jabba at that, and was proceeding to slice the image into disks. Why? I had not a single clue and I was just hoping that it wouldn’t be on the test. Unless the test involved his drawing and instructed me to slice it as he had just done, then I’d be seeing another big fat, red F on my test.
I slumped into my chair, relinquishing my last bit of willpower to absorb whatever Mr. Miller was talking about. I usually tried to follow along with his notes on the board in my notebook, but I just wasn’t feeling up to it today. With a sigh I leaned back in my uncomfortable plastic chair and stretched my back and straightened my legs out in front of me. As my attention drifted away from Mr. Miller, I glanced around the room at my fellow classmates—those who were actually paying attention were busy scribbling away in their notebooks. I noticed that Mark Greenlaw was asleep in the back of class in a clever position that gave off the appearance that he was looking down at his open math textbook. Not far from him, Gina Powell was surreptitiously passing notes to her boyfriend, Chris Alister, who had grown up down the street from me. In front of him, Kate Contario was tapping away at her smartphone, which was hidden behind her desk.
It made me feel better that I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t paying attention. I tried not to look behind me and two desks over. Mason had come to class today, for the first time in weeks. He hadn’t shown up the first week of school because he had to be added into the class, according to the excuse he had given Mr. Miller, anyway. Then he skipped out the day Sophie was killed, for obvious reasons, and thankfully wasn’t here when we all heard the news. I guess he decided it was time to return to class.
Mr. Miller cleared his throat, regaining my attention before giving me a warning glare. I gave him an apologetic smile before he turned back to the board and continued to mark up his picture. I knew he was telling me to pay attention or I would never learn it, but I spent time with him after class to prepare too, and worked with my father after school to pass the tests. There was just a point where I had to give up and come back to it later. They also needed to come to the realization that I was probably a lost cause.
Once his attention was back on the board, mine shifted to Mason again. The last time he had spoken to me was moments after he’d pushed himself off of me and left me surrounded by worried townspeople, and when he did grace me with his presence—in school where it was mandatory—he glared at me the entire time. Each time, the anger and hatred were set deep in his eyes, but even as I took the blunt force of his anger I knew it wasn’t directed at me. He was upset because of the rumors, and how everyone in town pretended to care when they didn’t even know Sophie personally. I couldn’t blame him for being upset.
“Oh my God,” Kate screeched, her words spoken quickly as they tumbled one after the other from her mouth. After she realized that she had spoken aloud, she slapped her hand over her mouth and widened her eyes in embarrassment.
“Do you have something to share with the class, Miss Contario?”
Kate shook her head, a blush creeping over her cheeks as she grew more embarrassed.
Mr. Miller lowered his glasses on his face and gave her a stern look. “You know the rules about phones in class. Please read the text aloud.”
“Uh…I w-would, Mr. Miller, but it’s n-not a text,” Kate stammered, hoping to get out of reading whatever was on her phone’s screen. She knew it was no use, because Mr. Miller was strict with this one rule. Anything else was a free for all, but he believed in shaming so that behavior would improve.
“Read it,” he ordered, crossing
his arms.
Kate sighed, and shot an apologetic glance to the back of the class; to Mason.
“Authorities have determined that a drug overdose was the cause of death of Sophie Peters, whose body was found in the woods in Shady Hallows, Maine last Tuesday. The drug is still undetermined, says Nicolas Fiat, Chief of County Investigators of the Shady Hallows Prosecutor’s Office. However, a toxicology report revealed signs of cardiac arrest, which is a symptom of a drug overdose, especially in cases where the victim could have consumed alcohol. Sophie was the newest resident of Shady Hallows. She was originally from Nantucket, Massachusetts, and is survived by her brother, Mason, and their parents, Charles and Amy Peters.”
She turned around to mouth an “I’m sorry” to Mason, but it was too late for that.
The chatter had started. The gossip would spread through town before school let out today. Everyone whipped their phones out, messaging their friends to spread the news. A few of my classmates didn’t believe Kate judging from the, “No seriously, Google it,” and the, “She’s telling the truth!”
“My sister never did drugs,” Mason yelled, slamming his hands on the desk for emphasis, which effectively silenced the classroom. Even Mr. Miller had seen it was a lost cause to stop him from venting, and stood back and let it happen. He walked over to his chair and took a seat, waiting for the madness to be over.
All eyes were on Mason as he continued. He looked furious, and I had to admit that I was scared. A vein in his neck became prominent and all of the lean muscles in his arms flexed and bulged as he leaned on his desk, his eyes roaming the room. “None of you knew her,” he said, taking the time to look in everyone’s eyes. I blushed when his eyes met mine for a second. “You don’t know what she did, or how she lived her life, so let me tell you. Sophie was a kindhearted and caring person. She took care of her friends and her family. She even risked her life to save someone in your town the second day we were here.” He allowed himself a quick glance in my direction again before he continued. “She didn’t do drugs, and she didn’t drink alcohol. Your police are trying to sweep her death under the rug so everyone can calm down. I hate to tell you this, but someone in your town is a murderer, and whoever it was will probably strike again.”
He stopped to let that information sink in. Most of our classmates tilted their heads down and looked at the ground in shame, while others just seemed unaffected. Brad, being the jerk-off that he was, had his phone pointed toward Mason and was filming. I was sure this was going to end up on the internet tonight, either on YouTube or other social media sites.
“If anyone has anything to say about my sister,” he said, “then you can say it to my face instead of behind my back. How about a little respect for those still living, since you clearly don’t respect the dead.” He slammed his chair underneath his desk. The room was completely silent, which allowed the rattling of the metal chair legs to echo around the room before he slung his backpack over his shoulder and stormed out of the room.
Chapter 8
Death Wish
Everyone was silent after Mason stormed out. Even Mr. Miller was in shock at what happened. Then, with a sigh, a longing glance at the board and then at the clock, he gave us our homework assignments and dismissed class ten minutes early. I had a feeling he was going to let us out after Mason left because there was no way anyone would turn their attention back to class after his outburst. I waited impatiently through the few minutes it had taken for Mr. Miller to tell us what pages and questions from the textbook we were supposed to complete for homework. When he let us go, I was already packed and ran out of the door. I wanted to find Mason and make sure he was all right. I wasn’t sure why since I knew he still didn’t like me. I had felt the urge to follow him out when he left, but I didn’t want to get into trouble with Mr. Miller, and have the class thinking that we had something between us anymore than they already did.
I walked fast as I exited the classroom. I whipped my head left and right, looking for Mason in the hallway. When I didn’t see him, I assumed that he left school. I hiked my bag up higher on my shoulders and ran to the left toward the main entrance of the building. My classmates stared at me like I was a chicken with its head cut off, but I didn’t care anymore. They were going to think whatever they were going to think, though I doubted it would top a supposed overdose. I ran down the hall, turning fast and running down the next. I slowed down as I passed the windows to the main office so I wouldn’t seem suspicious to Mrs. Nancy behind the front desk, and then sped up again once I got to the doors. I pushed outside into the humid air just in time to see Mason crossing the street.
“Mason!” I screamed, trying to get him to stop.
It worked. He turned to see who had called his name. When he saw that it was me, he shook his head in disbelief and turned back around. To my utter annoyance, he kept walking down the street.
I groaned and ran down the staircase in front of the school, stopped to check for cars, and then ran across the street. By the time I caught up with him, I was gasping for breath. I anticipated that he wouldn’t stop unless I blocked his way, so I ran in front of him and raised a hand to stop him in his tracks. When he stopped, he gave me a cold look, but I didn’t back down. Instead, I braced my hands on my hips and took a deep breath in, and then let one out. I had never been a strong runner, but it had never mattered until now.
“Seriously, what do you want now?” he asked, his eyes in slits. He crossed his arms for good measure. Clearly he thought I was a waste of his precious time, but I wasn’t always after information. Sometimes I could be nice.
“I just wanted to make sure you were all right after what happened back there,” I answered. My cheeks were burning under his cold stare and I felt like a child being punished for bad behavior. He hadn’t forgiven me for snooping, and I didn’t think he ever would. I tried to stand taller, hoping to make myself seem more confident and sure of myself.
Mason ran a hand through his dark hair with a heavy sigh, effectively messing it up and causing strands to fly in various directions. “Why can’t you and everyone else just leave us alone?”
I shrugged in response. I didn’t know who he meant when he said, “us.” Was he referring to his family, or to him and Sophie?
My silence only seemed to upset him more. “It’s happened, it’s done, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” he said as a convertible with its top down, filled with some of our classmates, drove past slowly. Everyone, even the driver, was staring at us. Mason seethed, raising his hand and flipping them the bird. They sped off, and Mason returned his attention to me.
“I know, but I wanted to say that I don’t believe what Kate read is true. I thought you should know that.” I knotted my hands together and wrung them nervously. Maybe now would be a good time to leave. I could leave one of our conversations on a high note, and maybe then he’d stop glaring at me every time we were in the same room, but just as I was about to turn around, Mason spoke up.
“Why does it even matter to you?”
I turned back around.
Mason raised an eyebrow. I tried to ignore the way the sunlight hit his eyes, making the green seem to glow.
I stopped myself from shrugging, and instead answered with, “I don’t know. I just figured it would help to know that I don’t think she committed suicide. I know I didn’t know her, but from what I’ve seen I think Sophie was a happy girl. I don’t think she had a reason to kill herself, and if she didn’t do drugs, then she wouldn’t have overdosed.” I looked around, making sure we were alone before I continued. I scratched my upper arm, a nervous tick of mine, and didn’t meet his eyes as I added, “I also think someone targeted her. I don’t think anything that ties Sophie and me together is a coincidence.”
Mason squinted at me, furrowing his eyebrows. I could see the anger returning to his eyes. “What does that even mean?”
I sighed, not wanting to explain any further. I knew I should have left when I had the chance. I could have jus
t walked away and pretended I didn’t hear him. That would have saved me a lot of trouble. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter,” I said, hoping to appease him. This conversation was going to take a bad turn, I could already see it happening and soon we’d have an audience when classes let out.
“No,” Mason stated. “You’ve brought this up before, so clearly you want to discuss it. Tell me what you mean by that. What, if anything, ties you and Sophie together? It has to be more than you two just looking alike, otherwise you would have dropped it by now because I told you that you and her look nothing alike. I think I would know if she looked like you, considering I grew up with her. You’re not Sophie’s long lost twin, you weren’t her friend, and frankly, according to the police, she died of a drug overdose. So please, go ahead and tell me what you think you know.”
I glanced around, suddenly wishing the convertible would come back so I could escape. Why was it that every conversation Mason and I had ended up in an argument?
“Well?” he pushed, wanting an answer. I just didn’t have the one he wanted to hear.
“I think someone targeted her,” I whispered. It was so quiet, I barely heard what I said, but it caught Mason’s attention.
His eyes grew wide, showing the white sclera all around his green irises. His mouth hung open slightly, just enough to show a gap between his lips before he recovered. He looked around, as if he was afraid we were being watched. When he turned his attention back to me his expression was fearful, as if he was scared of me before it turned to the emotion I knew him for the best—anger.
“Are you crazy, or just so bored in this one road town that you’re creating something to fill your time?”
I shook my head. Why was I bothering with this, with him? Why did I care? I didn’t need him, and I certainly couldn’t convince him something was going on. I could do it on my own, but at the same time I knew I wanted his help. He knew Sophie, and would be able to help me connect the dots, but he wasn’t going to help unless I could prove it. Maybe even then he wouldn’t work with me.
Deadly Hallows (The Dead Ringer Series Book 1) Page 5
