by Melissa Marr
Thoughts of the things Reid did, the awful events I heard about and the ones I saw, threaten to overwhelm me. I don’t want to think about any of it. Mixed in with all of those horrible details is one more truth that repeats like a refrain: I shot a boy tonight.
I shot him.
In that last moment, I wanted to kill him.
I shot him.
For a moment, I came near to shooting him again.
“Eva?” My mother’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts and closer to the world around me.
“I shot him,” I whisper to her.
“I know,” she says.
I reach up and take her hand in mine. I try not to think about sitting in another car earlier tonight. My mother’s hand in mine is an anchor, one I am afraid to release. “He would’ve killed Grace. She wasn’t moving. I wasn’t sure . . . I thought she might have died for a minute, and then Reid was going to kill Nate. He told me to get in his car, and he wanted to kill them, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Shhh,” my mother says. She holds my hand tighter. “It’s okay. They’re safe. You’re safe.”
“Everything is going to be all right,” my father adds. He has both hands on the steering wheel, and I can see how tightly he holds it. His knuckles are white in the dim lights of the car. “Everyone is safe now, and your grandfather’s attorney is already at the police station. You’ll be fine, Eva.”
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DAY 136: “THE AFTERMATH”
Eva
4 months later
LATE THE NIGHT WE were released to my parents’ custody, I copied the recording of Reid’s confession onto my laptop. I also gave the police a copy the next day, along with my statement. They took my phone into evidence, but I’d have given them pretty much anything they asked without hesitation anyhow.
I’m glad I kept my own copy of Reid’s confession though. It’s not right to let the true story be controlled by lawyers and journalists. Micki wasn’t their friend. Amy wasn’t in their school. Madison didn’t spend her last day in their homes. It’s my story. These were things that happened to me, in my life, to my friends.
Over the last month, I’ve transcribed it. I’ve typed out every sick thing Reid said to me when he drove me to see Grace. Once I started doing it, Grace and I both started writing down our own memories of what happened. Last week, we told our therapist.
He says it’ll help. I don’t know if he’s right or not. All I have figured out is that having our part of the story typed up on my laptop seems like a good idea. It makes me feel better knowing that Reid’s version of reality isn’t the only one on record.
I’m not sure if anyone will read it, but I’m keeping it all the same. I reread what I just wrote:
He’s made the national news because of their deaths. We all have. For the first time since I can recall, I don’t want to watch the news. My father has started sending me texts of news articles unrelated to this so I can keep up on the news but don’t have to wade through discussions of the “Code Killer,” as the media has dubbed him. Papers and magazines are filled with speculation on the girl the media says was “made for” a killer, the girls he murdered, and, of course, the Code Killer himself. I’m grateful the media didn’t explode with stories about all of us while Reid was on the loose and unidentified, but they’re plenty attentive during his trial and incarceration. The media has latched on to Reid, and his lawyers are letting it happen—maybe they’re trying for sympathy or maybe he’s overruling their decisions. I don’t know.
What I do know is that I’ve researched far more about killers than I want to. It’s not that knowing more helps, but I keep thinking it will. There aren’t a lot of serial killers as young as Reid. I know now that there were some: American killer Jesse Pomeroy was only fourteen, so was the British murderer Graham Young. There are others, and whether or not Reid is a serial killer is not something I can debate now.
Maybe it’s because of Reid or maybe it’s my death visions—which aren’t going away—but I finally know what I want to do next. I might not have the specifics all figured out, but I’m looking at a future in law or criminology. If I’m going to be seeing deaths anyhow, I want to find a way to stop some of them. I want
A voice interrupts my typing: “Eva?”
I look up to find Nate standing in my doorway. He’s been at my side through every awkward day in the aftermath of Reid’s arrest. The first week back at school was hard, but it’s getting easier. People stare. They whisper. The rumors are worse because of the news coverage, but I walk through the halls of Jessup High with either Grace, Nate, Piper, Robert, or CeCe at my side. I’m never alone even though I no longer need help navigating crutches and books. After a little over four months on crutches, I’m finally walking well.
“Your parents are watching a movie with Aaron,” Nate says. “We can join them or go out.”
“I swear they think he’s their nephew these days.” I shake my head at how things have changed. My parents and Grace’s parents have all grown closer to Nate, and by extension, closer to Aaron and to a lesser degree Nate’s mom and Aaron’s mom. The downside, of course, is that getting any alone time with Nate is harder than I could’ve expected. When everyone watches your every move, stealing away is a challenge.
I click save and turn my attention to Nate. “So they’re downstairs with the television on?”
He grins and steps farther into the room. “They are.”
“And we’re up here alone for a few minutes?” I pull him closer.
“True.”
“Why aren’t you kissing me already?” I wrap my arms around him as he lowers his mouth to mine.
We’re safe, and we’re together. That thought has carried me through a lot the past few months. It carries me through early morning nightmares. Things get better every day, and I know I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE MEDICAL ADVISORS: KATHY Lamb and Lauren Remley for prescription help and TBI info; the entire amazing team at EMMC Pediatrics for being the inspiration for my pediatrics ward in a fictional hospital; Kimberly and Kaitlyn Vargas for talking to me about living with cystic fibrosis; Dr. Jennifer Lynn Barnes for articles on prosopagnosia.
The criminal advisors: Diana Williams for insight on forensics and crime scene investigation; Laura Bickle for patients’ rights and legal procedure; Bryan Jeter (chief of police in Puyallap, Washington), Michael Prince (Apex, North Carolina, police department), and Detective Suzie Ivy for information on police procedure and criminal investigation. All the things that are right are theirs; the ones that are wrong are mine.
The support system: Kimberly Derting, John Kwiatkowski, Jeanette Battista, Jeaniene Frost, Sera Lewis, Nikki Marckel, and John Dixon for critical reading and moral support; Laura Kalnajs for copious copyediting and general life organization; Alison Donalty for cover magic, gluten-free snacks, and ongoing fabulousness; and Anne Hoppe, Molly O’Neill, Kristen Pettit, Kate Jackson, Sally Wilcox, and Merrilee Heifetz for shepherding a book on obsession, murder, and romance over this long, long window of time.
The essential: Asia for reading a dozen drafts of this and offering me wise notes every single time; Dylan for not reading this one; both of you for helping with your baby brother and a gajillion little things that you do that enable me to write; and Loch for giving me the idea that became a book (and being an amazing father to all three of our babies during such a difficult year).
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MELISSA MARR is the New York Times
bestselling author of the Wicked Lovely series as well as the adult fantasy novels Graveminder and The Arrivals. When not writing, editing, or traveling, Melissa is buried under a plethora of books, dogs, and children in Virginia or online at www.melissa-marr.com.
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ALSO BY MELISSA MARR
Wicked Lovely
Ink Exchange
Fragile Eternity
Radiant Shadows
Darkest Mercy
Wicked Lovely: Desert Tales
(Art by Xian Nu Studio)
Volume 1: Sanctuary
Volume 2: Challenge
Volume 3: Resolve
Faery Tales & Nightmares
Graveminder
The Arrivals
Writing as M. A. Marr, Coauthored with K. L. Armstrong
Loki’s Wolves
Odin’s Ravens
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HarperCollins Publishers
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COPYRIGHT
MADE FOR YOU. Copyright © 2014 by Melissa Marr. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or here in after invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.epicreads.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
[TK]
ISBN 978-0-06-201119-0
EPub Edition April 2014 ISBN 9780062341204
14 15 16 17 18 XX/XXXX 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
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