Game Over (Whithall University Book 2)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  It’s not bad enough it tastes like shit, now it has to give me third degree burns, too? It’s lucky I have other shit on my mind, otherwise I’d destroy that machine.

  My laptop dings, letting me know the file I’m downloading is finished, and my heart leaps. I rush over, putting the coffee down next to my laptop, and open the first file.

  When I glance at the screen, my eyes widen in horror and shock. NO!

  “Motherfucker,” I growl.

  I reach out to grab my phone to ring Cole, and then Allie. I’ve been ignoring her calls and texts all day, but she needs to know about this. My fingers brush my screen, but before my call can connect to Cole, something bounces off the side of my head. The pain knocks me to the floor, my hand going to my wound.

  What the fuck?

  I land on my knees with a sickening thud, my vision blurring from the pain it causes. Warm liquid runs down the side of my face, and when I pull my hand away, it’s covered in blood. I fall to my side, looking up at my attacker.

  My eyes narrow into dangerous slits, and a murderous rage builds up inside me.

  I’m going to kill that sick son of a bitch.

  “It’s you,” I growl.

  A creepy smile spreads across his face. I’m so stunned, so angry, that I don’t get a chance to move before his foot comes down on the side of my face, knocking me out completely.

  Allie!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ALLIE

  PRESENT

  The storm is rolling in quickly, the rain already pouring down on my windshield, making it hard to see. I slow down to a stop when my sat nav announces I’ve reached my destination. It says the house should be here, but I’m driving down a dirt road with banks of trees on either side.

  “Where the hell am I?” I whisper. I check my phone, but with the storm and tree coverage, there’s no signal.

  I check my mirrors before pulling off down the road. Either the address Tina gave me is wrong, or my sat nav needs rebooting. It’s not the first time she’s given up on me or steered me in the wrong direction.

  Whenever Alex talked about his home life, I pictured him living on a busy street. Not in the middle of nowhere nearly an hour away from the university. How the hell does he commute to Whithall every morning? I’ve never seen him drive, but then again, I’ve never really asked how he gets from A to B.

  I hate driving down roads like this. They’re thin and have barely enough room for two cars, which is why they have little dips at the side for you to pull into. I’m always afraid a car will be driving too fast and hit me head on.

  Another road splits off to my right, and without thinking, I turn onto it, hoping for the best. I’m driving back on myself now, but as I follow the road for a few minutes, a house comes into view. I relax into my seat, pulling up outside next to an older car.

  I pull my hood up over my head and grab my umbrella and phone. My body starts shivering the second I open the car door and get out.

  I rush up to the house as fast as I can go without hurting myself. It looks old and could do with a lick of paint and new windows. They’ve got cracks in, some even covered with plastic.

  As I knock on the door, white paint peels off, and I wince, stepping back guiltily. I rub my arm, and bounce on my feet to keep my blood flowing. I should have brought a coat with me, but I wasn’t really thinking. I didn’t think it would rain, either.

  I knock again, louder this time, hoping someone is in.

  Maybe his nan was taken to the hospital, which is why no one is answering.

  “Come on,” I whisper, my teeth chattering.

  I’m about to give up when I hear a voice call out, “Coming.”

  The relief I feel at knowing his nan might be okay, relaxes me. The door opens, revealing an old lady, who I presume is his nan, Jessica. She’s bent forward, barely holding herself up.

  She looks startled to see me, so I put on my best smile, hoping to ease her worries. Her hair is as white as snow, her face wrinkled and sagging at the cheeks. Her glasses sit on the tip of her nose.

  “Hi, I’m Allie, Alex’s friend from school. Is he in?”

  Her smile lights up her face, making her look a little younger. “Come, get out of the rain, pet. Come on. It’s so lovely to meet one of my Alex’s friends.”

  “Thank you. You must be Jessica?”

  The second I step inside, I have to hold my breath. The house smells rusty and damp. It hits me in the face like a rubbish tip in the summer. I have to breathe through my mouth it’s so strong.

  She leads me into a tiny living room, filled with knick-knacks and pictures. There’s two, two-seater sofas, the pea green colour looking faded and worn. In the middle of the room is a coffee table with burnt cup rings staining the top. There’s a shelving unit in the alcove—my grandparents had one just like it. It’s filled with more pictures, ornaments, and other bits and bobs.

  I glance around again, taking in the old TV box that would need a crane to move. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one. The curtains are brown, with embroidered flowers on them.

  The house is old, outdated, but you can see she’s tried her best to make it a home. It’s the cups of tea or coffee left on the coffee table, the newspapers stacked beside the sofa, and the smell of days old food that has surprised me. It looks like no one has cleaned for a few weeks, if not longer. She shouldn’t be living in this condition.

  I’m so lost in a daze that I nearly miss her stumble. I grab under her elbow, steading her. “Are you okay?”

  Her hands are shaking, her knees bent like she’s struggling to support herself. “I just need to sit down, pet. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  I help her into the nearest seat, one I think is hers, as the remote is on the arm and another cup of tea on the little side table next to it.

  “Are you okay? Would you like me to get you something?”

  She waves me off, shifting the cushion behind her to get comfortable. “I’m fine, pet. Now, take a seat. My boy has told me all about you. He said you work in the library together?”

  I take a seat on the other sofa, cringing at the thought of what I might be sitting on. “We do. It’s actually why I’m here. Our supervisor, Tina, called me to say Alex walked out of work. We thought something had happened as he mentioned you’ve been sick?”

  Her eyes seem to glass over for a second, before her attention turns to me. “Hello, pet, are you one of Alex’s friends?”

  A little puzzled, I nod my head slowly. “Yes, do you know where he is?”

  She lifts her cup of tea, drinking it, and I inwardly cringe. It looks hours old. “My Alex isn’t here. He’s at work. Do you work with him?”

  “I do. Our supervisor said he walked out from his shift. We thought he would come home. He said you’ve been ill?”

  She nods her head enthusiastically, and she looks so fragile I’m worried it’s not good for her brain. “He’s a good boy. Always looking after me. He isn’t back from work yet, though.”

  I grab my phone out of my front pocket, checking to see if I’ve had any missed calls from Tina, and hoping for one from CJ. I’m worried he still hasn’t called.

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?” I ask.

  “He’ll be back soon with my medication,” she tells me. I sigh, smiling. So that’s why he rushed out of work.

  “That’s good. I’m sorry for interrupting your night.”

  “It’s no bother,” she says, before leaning over and coughing. I rush over, bending down to rub her back.

  “Is there anything I can get you? A glass of water?”

  When she sits up, she’s pale, and it’s worrying. “Can you be a dear and grab me my pills? I’ve got a headache coming and they always make me feel better. And a glass of water would be lovely.”

  “Where are your pills?” I ask softly, getting up.

  She looks around the room for a second, like she’s searching for something. She frowns. “I’m not sure where I left them
.”

  This woman isn’t well, and as much as I admire Alex for looking after her for all these years, she needs real medical care. She needs to be monitored all the time. She needs help.

  “Are you okay with me going to look for them?”

  “Of course. Are you Allie?”

  I smile, glad she remembered my name. “I am.”

  She pats my hand with her cold ones, making me frown. “Such a good girl.”

  I give her a soft smile before reaching over the back of the sofa for the red knitted blanket. I cover her, tucking it into her lap to keep her warm.

  “I’ll back in a few,” I tell her, leaving the room.

  The hallway is as dim and dull as the front room, the wallpaper peeling from the walls. A yellow patch covers most of one wall and the ceiling.

  God, Alex, why didn’t you come to me for help?

  There are stairs to my left, but I carry on walking down to the kitchen, gagging when the smell hits me.

  My god.

  Plates covered with leftover food, and piles of dirty washing, fills the sides and sink. The cupboard doors are non-existent, the one still attached barely hanging on.

  Not wanting to stay in here a second longer, I grab the cleanest glass I can find and swill it out. I fill it before looking around for her tablets.

  I find a basket filled with different bottles and packets of medication, and grab it, taking that and the glass of water with me to the front room.

  “Do you know what the medication is called, Jessica?” I ask, setting the water down on the side.

  She gets that distant look in her eyes, like she’s having trouble remembering. “Naproxen, I think.”

  “Naproxen, that’s good. I think my dad had to take that. He used to get headaches all the time,” I tell her, feeling one of my rambles coming on. I’m already feeling the effects of leaving the house too soon. I’m tired, sore, but there’s no way I can leave her here on her own like this.

  I sort through the medication, reading labels. There’s so many of them. She can’t possibly be taking all of these.

  One of the labels catches my eye, and I bring it up closer to make sure I’m reading it right. Methotrexate.

  I fall back on my arse, taking the basket of medication with me and spilling the tablets all over the floor.

  He wouldn’t.

  No!

  I shake myself out of it, placing all the medication back in the basket and finding the right ones. I quickly read through the instructions, making sure I have the right dosage, and pass them to her. I get up, pacing the floor, when a picture on the mantelpiece stops me. I walk over, picking it up and lifting it closer.

  In the picture are a middle-aged couple, so far removed from each other and unhappy, standing in a garden. They’re both staring into the camera with no emotion whatsoever. It’s supposed to be a family photo. The woman in the picture is holding a crying baby, and two kids are standing side by side, looking skinny and pale. The boy is staring at the girl, but she’s looking at the camera, looking as robotic as the parents behind her.

  Why would she have this on show?

  I put it down gently, ready to leave. I’ve seen enough, but a picture on the far end has me turning pale. I grab it quickly, nearly knocking the pictures close by off the mantelpiece.

  “Jessica, who is the lady in this picture?” I ask, moving over to her.

  She opens her eyes, smiling when she sees what I’m holding. “Oh, I’ve not seen that picture in years. That’s my daughter, Claire, and my son, Conrad.”

  “No, no, no,” I chant.

  This cannot be happening.

  It can’t.

  But it all makes sense.

  Alex is the killer. He’s the person we’ve all been searching for.

  “Jessica, I’m just going to find Alex. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

  She looks up at me in a daze. “Are you Allie?”

  I force a smile. “I am.”

  She takes my hand, and I have to do everything I can not to flinch or let the tears threatening, spill.

  “I’m so glad my boy has a girlfriend like you.” She inhales, squeezing my hand. “Not like those other girls. They were noisy,” she whispers, before closing her eyes once again.

  A shiver runs up my spine and I feel the blood drain from my face.

  This can’t be the Alex I’ve come to know and love like a brother. It can’t be. For once in my life, I want to be wrong about someone.

  He’s been there for me through a lot. He was there when me and Willow were going through a rough patch. We might have made up after her attack, but that rift was still there. He helped me through that.

  When CJ drove me mad, he was there.

  When we went to court, he stood by my side and supported me.

  He kept me company at work and made me laugh.

  He was my best friend.

  I move back towards the kitchen, starting there. There has to be something that can prove I’m right or wrong. Something—anything.

  I suddenly find it hard to breathe, my chest tightening. The backdoor comes into view and I rush over, flinging it open and taking in a breath of fresh air. I lift my face to the sky, letting the rain pelt down on my face whilst panting heavily.

  What am I going to do?

  What am I going to do?

  I take my phone out of my pocket, clicking CJ’s number. It goes straight to voicemail. “CJ, please call me, it’s important. It’s about the killer. I know who it is. Well, I think I do. No, I know I do.” I stop when I see a building at the bottom of the garden. “Call me. Call the police—something,” I tell him, trailing off and ending the call.

  Something about that building doesn’t feel right. It’s like when you watch a horror movie and the house is creepy as hell, yet the morons still walk inside to check it out.

  It looks like I’m going to be one of those morons, because before I know it, my feet are taking me down the path. I look around to check no one else is here, keeping my phone tightly clutched in my hand.

  As it comes closer, dread works its way through me.

  I press my ear against the door, but I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary. But that feeling won’t go.

  I flick through my phone, calling Jordan. She normally has Wednesdays free. Something tells me I’m not going to like what’s behind that door.

  When I hear it ringing, I put the phone down my hoodie and into my bra, hiding it. The second I put my hand on the door handle, my heart starts racing and my palms turn sweaty.

  The click of it opening causes me to flinch and pause, holding my breath.

  Oh, god. What am I doing?

  I push it open, my shoulders sagging when it only leads into an empty room. It’s short-lived when I see another door. I move towards it, nerves raking my body. I shake my hands out, taking long deep breaths.

  I twist the handle, pulling the door towards me.

  I had prepared for the worst—the worst of the worst. But what I’m seeing in front of me is so far from anything I ever imagined.

  “Oh, my God,” I breathe out, my shaking hand going to my mouth.

  Hearing my voice, the girl’s head lifts, her eyes widening. She starts screaming behind her taped mouth, her eyes widening, imploring something I can’t read. I take a step forward, needing to help her. She shakes her head, her body furiously trying to get free from her chains.

  Chains.

  I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

  I scream when a body steps out in front of me. I reach out for the door frame, feeling faint and sick.

  I gasp, struggling to understand what I’m seeing. “It’s you.”

  He smiles, opening the door wider. I stumble back a step, screaming at the top of my lungs. No! I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest.

  I fall to my knees, tears falling and blurring my vision, but I can’t take my eyes away from the scene in front of me.

  CJ.

  Bloody.

&nb
sp; His head hanging lifelessly to the side.

  It’s the last thing I see before I pass out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The grief of losing my baby hits me the second I come to, like it has done every time I’ve woken up since it happened. It’s suffocating. There’s a split second where I forget. For that split second, I’m a mum-to-be, and I’m happy, blissfully happy. Then it’s ripped away from me all over again.

  I open my eyes, a little disorientated, and blink, looking around the foreign room.

  What the hell? Where am I?

  I shoot up in the bed I’m in and everything comes flooding back. I’m drowning in emotions. I can’t hear over the sound of buzzing in my ears.

  CJ.

  I close my eyes, seeing his dead body all over again. All that blood… I rub my chest, breathing heavily. There’s a hole in my heart from losing him, from losing my life.

  This can’t be happening to me. It can’t. I can’t live my life without him. I won’t.

  I run my fingers through my hair, opening my eyes and letting tears fall.

  There’s not much to the room I’m in, but I don’t really get a chance to look. My eyes take in CJ sitting tied to a chair. I jump off the bed, and in my haste, I nearly trip over my own feet.

  He’s awake.

  My eyes aren’t deceiving me. He’s really awake.

  “Oh, my God, you’re alive.”

  He struggles against his restraints, the veins in his temples pulsing, his face bright red and covered in blood and sweat. The muscles in his arms bulge, and he growls deep in the back of his throat as he fights to get free. His wrists are red raw from the rope, and my breath gets caught in my throat.

  CJ.

  “We need to get you out of here. OhmyGod, ohmyGod,” I chant.

  I kneel on the floor in front of him and immediately fiddle with the rope at his wrists. My hands shake, making it harder for me to grip it. I begin to panic, my vision blurring as I struggle to get him free.

  We have to get out of here. We have to get him medical help.

  “CJ, I can’t get them loose. What do I do?” I cry, pulling on them harder.

  He tries to tell me something, but it’s muffled behind his gag. I look up through my tears, feeling helpless and panicked. He has a gash on the side of his head, blood still pouring from the wound. The left side of his face is just swollen, covered in a dark, purple and black bruise.