Game Over (Whithall University Book 2)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  I laugh at his horrified expression. “I don’t mind going shopping with her. I never did any of that with my mum, so it’ll be nice, and I can get to know her more. Maybe she’ll let slip about your real name.”

  He chuckles. “Cupcake, I told you: she won’t reveal my secret. Not even Cole would. And he only knows it because when my great-grandparents were alive, they called me by my given name.”

  “Chris, wasn’t it?”

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s—” His eyes widen. “You nearly had me then.”

  I giggle. “I’ll find out eventually, you know. I’m like a little Nancy Drew.”

  His lips twitch as he leans forward, pressing them against mine.

  A throat clears and we break apart. I blush at being caught, but turn to greet his mum, smiling.

  “Sorry, that was work.”

  “Everything okay?” CJ asks.

  “Yes. They want me to go in shortly to look around some new woman shelters.” She gives him an apologetic smile.

  “We need to get going soon, anyway, Mum. I’ve got to start my paper that’s due in a few weeks.”

  “You’re such a good boy,” she tells him, giving him a soft smile. Then her eyes widen as she turns to me. “CJ told me it’s your birthday in a few weeks. Would you like to go shopping with me? I can treat you. It would be nice to have some girl time. I understand if you’d rather not. You probably have loads of girlfriends you can go with.” Her rambling is endearing.

  CJ playfully nudges my knee under the table, as if to remind me he told me so. I nod at Milly, thrilled with the idea. “Yes, I’d love to. But I have to warn you, I’m more into buying books than shoes. My friend Willow, however, has a million pairs of the things, some of which I’m sure she’s never even tried on.”

  Milly laughs. “If you want your friend to tag along, the more the merrier. With CJ, it was a case of running to the shops, grabbing what he needed and getting out of there. Any longer and he’d have a meltdown.”

  “It’s for girls,” CJ mutters dryly.

  She looks at me as if to say, you see. “Let CJ know what days and times you’re working or have class, and I can work around it. We could go for lunch while we’re there.”

  “Sounds really good. I’m looking forward to it.”

  And I am.

  Before, whenever Willow would even mention shopping, I’d have a cardiac arrest. The thought of spending countless hours in a shop, trying on clothes, would be enough for me to fake a deadly illness. I hated it. But because she was my friend, I’d go.

  We would compromise, and she’d come to a book shop with me. The idea of going with Milly and Willow is actually something I’m looking forward to. It may not be the same as my mum taking me, but it’s close. I’m also thrilled she asked me. I feel honoured.

  Maybe when we go, I can get her to spill CJ’s real name.

  With that in mind, we hug Milly goodbye and leave. And for the first time since I can remember, I’m truly excited about something.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Linda Cooper was reported missing by her parents on Monday 23rd. Seventeen-year-old Linda was last seen heading out for her run Sunday morning. Police are asking for anyone who may have seen this girl or witnessed anyone who seemed out of place around Whithall River at roughly nine a.m. to please come forward.

  “An inside source says: “The parents are completely devastated and beside themselves with grief. Linda is a bright young girl who is training for the August Charity Marathon in London to raise money for Leukaemia. They’re positive something has happened to their daughter. She’s never had problems at school or at home. What happened has come as a huge shock to them, and they are pleading with anyone who may know something to come forward.”

  The picture of a young girl stares back at me from the television. She has light brown hair, hazel eyes, and a blinding smile. I can’t look away from the screen, even when they show a picture of her parents walking out of the police station, their eyes swollen and red. They go on to describe how they’ve been searching for her nonstop since Sunday afternoon.

  My heart pummels to my throat as I watch it. They look distraught. The husband does his best to console his wife, but the grief and sorrow on his face is crippling.

  When we applied for university, we checked to make sure the area was safe. We didn’t want to end up in a town where crime was at its highest, especially since we were moving here without our parents. Even though there is no place on Earth where someone isn’t doing something illegal, we didn’t want to be in the centre of a gang war.

  A town an hour away has two gang rivals constantly at war, but other than that, Whithall seemed like your normal place. In fact, when we researched Whithall, there hadn’t been anything other than petty arrests for fighting or theft.

  So we moved here, and since then, we’ve had a serial rapist, a murder, and now a missing girl. It just seems like a lot has happened for what was known as a relatively quiet town.

  If my father sees this on the news, I’ll be expecting a phone call and demands to move back home.

  The television draws my attention once again. The Cooper’s had gone to the police station to file a missing person’s report on Sunday night after they still hadn’t heard from her, but the police couldn’t do anything for twenty-four hours because she was classed as an adult. It’s now Wednesday; four days of the Cooper’s not knowing what happened to their daughter, and it must be killing them.

  From what I’m hearing on the news, Linda Cooper isn’t someone who would go somewhere without telling her parents. She’s never been in trouble, not at school or with the police. She even has a few charities she helps raise money for. And according to her Facebook account, she was well liked. There wasn’t one person on there who was arguing and saying she just ran away.

  The news reporter had her old high school headteacher give a statement, as well as some of her friends. They’ve also been showing Facebook posts from all her friends on the bottom of the screen and with the twitter caption, #FindLindaCooper.

  The clock mounted on the wall catches my eye and I hiss out a breath. I’m going to be late for class if I don’t get a move on. I’d been so consumed with what was happening on the television and reading the kind words from her friends that I’d forgotten about my Historical Literature class.

  I’ve been dreading this class since I returned to school. When I first applied, I thought the class would be a breeze, but I had been wrong. I’ve been struggling a little on the archaeology of Greece and the historical development of literature from the medieval period to the 17th century. Both are a requirement to pass my course.

  It’s hard to enjoy the class when I’m struggling so much, and the only student study group is held on the nights I work. I asked a few people if they wanted to meet up on different days, but they declined.

  With one last look at the news playing on the television, showing a picture of Linda Cooper smiling, I grab my bags and keys, and rush out the door. It’s only when I’m half way to class that I realise I didn’t say goodbye to Rosie or let her know I’ll be going out to lunch with CJ, so won’t be back.

  *** *** ***

  I’m late.

  I slow my run to a walk when I reach the door, and take a deep breath, preparing myself for all the stares that will come—like they always do when someone disrupts their class.

  I quietly open the door, hoping I can sneak in unnoticed, and as I reach the back of the classroom, where my chair is located, I think I’ve gotten away with it.

  “Nice of you to join us, Miss Davis.”

  I inwardly groan, feeling my face heat as I pull out my chair and take a seat. My gaze turns to our teacher, Geoffrey Flint. “I’m sorry.”

  He gives me a disapproving gaze before focusing back on the class. Quietly, I take out my notepad and pens and listen to what he is teaching. I try my hardest to follow but somewhere along the way my mind drifts back to the girl plastered all over the news.


  She’s out there somewhere. She could be scared, alone, hurt. She could be happy and feeling guilty about scaring her parents and family. It is a mystery that only Linda Cooper can answer. That thought alone is horrible, because if something bad happens, only she will have the answers to give her parents the peace of mind they’ll need.

  I guess it’s another reason why I’m so determined to write about Christie’s murder. Only she and the killer know what happened to her that night.

  Her parents have pleaded and even offered a reward for any help that leads to an arrest of the person who killed her. They will do anything to know why their daughter was taken away from them so cruelly. I want to find them justice, but in order to do that, I need to get into the mind of the killer, and to do that, I need to figure out why Christie. Why did he kill her? Was it something she had done, said or saw? There’s a trillion and one ideas that come to mind, making me more determined than ever to find out.

  I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t notice Mr. Flint standing beside me. He kneels down next to me, and like clockwork, leans forward—too close for my liking—and rests his arm along the back of my chair.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I try to scoot away without it looking too obvious. Mr. Flint has a way of making me feel uncomfortable. Whenever he comes to see me about something, he always gets far too close. My personal space is just that: personal.

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Good. I’d like to see you after class today. Make sure you wait behind, okay?”

  I nod, wringing my hands together in my lap, scared I’m going to be in trouble. It’s the first time I’ve ever been late, and although I’m struggling in class, I still do my work to the best of my ability. “Okay.”

  He stands up, his fingers running across my neck, causing me to stiffen. He doesn’t seem to notice or care as he squeezes my shoulder and goes back to his desk.

  I watch him closely as he takes a seat, not wanting to take my eyes off him. When he picks up his coffee cup, our gazes meet. He smiles and I look away, a shiver running down my spine.

  I glance around the room to see if anyone else had seen what happened, but they’re all looking down at the worksheets in front of them. When I look at my desk, I notice my own one on the wooden surface and inwardly kick myself. How did I miss this being handed out to me?

  Not wanting to give Mr. Flint another reason to keep me longer, I get to work. Every so often I feel his eyes on me, and when I look up, he’s staring at me, and a sense of foreboding creeps through me. It’s creepy and, in my eyes, utterly unprofessional.

  By the time class is over, my nerves have got me sweating. Everyone is piling out of the room, not giving me a second glance as I pack my stuff away.

  “Come take a seat, Allie.”

  I grab my bag and make my way down to the front of the classroom. Mr. Flint sits back on his desk, his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms gripping the edge of the dark wood. The way he gazes at me—the slow appraisal as his eyes rake up and down my body—has me itching to bolt.

  I’ve never been in trouble before, so this is all new for me. I swallow hard when he gestures to the chair he’s put in front of his desk.

  “I’d like to talk to you about your coursework.”

  Okay, this isn’t about being late, then?

  “Okay.”

  I clasp my hands together in my lap, watching him closely as he pulls another chair up next to mine and takes a seat.

  “I’ve noticed you’ve been struggling and was wondering why you weren’t attending the study group I arranged for everyone.”

  “I work during the times you allocated. I did ask if there was any way one of them was willing to meet me when I was free, but they’ve got too much schoolwork.”

  He hums in the back of his throat. “I have night classes Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, but if you’re free Friday, I can help you catch up. You don’t have to struggle alone,” he tells me softly.

  I jump at the feel of his hand landing on my thigh, my body instantly freezing at the bold, unwanted move. I try to move away, but his fingers tighten a little; not enough to hurt, but enough to make me take notice. I stop moving and pick up my bag.

  “I…well… I’m busy on Friday nights. I’ll be fine. I promise to catch up, and come to think of it, I just remembered a friend of mine took this class last year. She said she wouldn’t mind tutoring me.”

  His thumb rubs slow circles on my thigh. My throat closes, and with adrenaline pumping through my veins, I jump up to my feet. His hand slips free from my leg as he stands with me, standing close enough that if I were to move he would be touching me.

  “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. We could meet up here, or somewhere more… private.”

  My eyes widen at the way he says ‘private’: slowly, deliberately. “Okay. Thank you. I have to go; my boyfriend is waiting for me.”

  Something flashes in his eyes but it’s gone when the door to the classroom is pushed open.

  “Cupcake, there you are. Did you forget we were meeting for lunch?”

  Relieved to see CJ, I step around Mr. Flint and walk over to him. I force a smile, but CJ being CJ sees through it and eyes me more closely.

  “See you in next class. I shouldn’t have to remind you to be on time.”

  I quickly turn around after taking CJ’s hand and nod. “I won’t be. Thank you.”

  Mr. Flint grunts something under his breath that I don’t hear. CJ notices and pauses. Not wanting anything to happen, I take his hand and pull him out the door.

  The air leaves my lungs the second we’re out of the classroom. Even with the room being one of the biggest lecture halls, it felt claustrophobic in there.

  “You okay?” CJ asks, once we’re outside. It’s raining, so I pull my hood over my head, hoping to cover my facial expression from him. He’ll be able to tell that I’m lying. He always does.

  “Yeah.”

  “What was all that about in there, then? You seemed uncomfortable.”

  I sigh, moving closer to him to get warm. “He wanted to talk about my work. I’ve been struggling a little with the subject so he offered to help me. I was also late for class.”

  He chuckles. “You, late?”

  I gently nudge his shoulder with mine, grateful he believed my half lie. CJ has a tendency to act first, think later when it comes to someone being hurt. I don’t want him to get into trouble over something that is probably nothing.

  “Yes, late. I got distracted watching the news.”

  “And I can help you if you’re struggling, but I’m pretty sure they do study groups you can attend.”

  I shake my head when I notice he’s watching me. “I can’t. They meet up on the day I’m working at the library. I’ve asked them if they would consider having it there, but they said there would be too many interruptions with people coming and going. Honestly, I think they just didn’t want to add one more student to their list.”

  He scoffs. “Sounds about right. But I can help you.”

  I look at him dubiously. “How? You aren’t in that class.”

  Sending me a smug smile, he pulls me into the dining hall. “No, but I got bored last year so I did some online classes in my spare time. Historic Literature was actually one of my favourites.”

  Why doesn’t that surprise me?

  Here is the thing about CJ. He may look like some careless, easy-going, kind of clueless student, but he’s not. Not only does he ace every subject, but he also has a high IQ that he doesn’t put to any use. He loves sports and wants to get a degree in sport news. He’d be good at it. He’d be good at anything he wanted to do.

  “If you don’t mind, I could really use the help. I’d rather not be called to stay after class again.”

  We step into line and he turns to face me, pulling my hood down, grinning. He kisses me, pulling me against him, before his hands roam my back and backside.

  “My little rebel,” he wh
ispers as he pulls away.

  I can’t help but smile. “Shut up.”

  I jump when Jordan steps up beside us, looking a little upset.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, did you see the news?”

  “I did. It’s terrible.”

  “What is?” CJ asks, after ordering us enough food to feed an army.

  Jordan turns to CJ, startled, as if she didn’t notice him standing there. “Oh, hey, CJ. A girl is missing. She went for a run and never returned home.”

  CJ seems unfazed as he shrugs. “Probably a runaway, or she’s out partying with friends.”

  As much as his answer pisses me off, he’s entitled to think that. It’s what anyone would think, given the circumstances. She’s a teenage girl.

  Jordan shakes her head at him. “No, it’s not like that. Her parents did a press conference this afternoon and explained this is out of character for their daughter. She’s never run away before, she doesn’t party with friends, and also lets them know when she does go out. Plus, she was dressed for a run, not to go clubbing. She had leukaemia as a child, so she doesn’t do anything that could risk her health again. She’s been training to do a charity run to raise money for the cause.”

  We take a table in the back by the window. We’re barely seated when Willow and Cole join us.

  “What are you all looking so serious about?” Willow asks as she opens her water.

  I answer, watching her closely. She looks so much happier now that we’re back here. “A girl went missing whilst out on a run Sunday. Her parents are worried because it’s unlike her. It’s been all over the news today. I’m surprised you haven’t seen or heard about it. She lives five minutes away.”

  Her eyes widen in shock. “Oh, my gosh. What do you think happened to her? What on earth is going on with this place. We can’t seem to catch a break!”

  “They don’t know. But it’s unlike her, according to her parents and everyone the news reporters have spoken to. Even her friends have spoken up about this being out of character for her, and they’re worried. The police are finally taking it seriously since they found her phone earlier this morning down by the river. I think it’s why they got on the news so quickly. Seeing her parents so distraught on the television, begging for anyone who knows something to come forward, was really upsetting,” Jordan says, her eyes a little distant.