“Uh…”
“This is confirmation Lionel has his lockbox, Reverie. You’ve been questioning yourself for years if you imagined that thing, and he confirmed that not only is it real, but he possesses something that could prove without a doubt he’s the Locksmith.It could convict him forallhis crimes.”
My eyes widen, and my veins fill with an emotion so unfamiliar, it’s almost unnerving.
Relief.
I was so goddamn overwhelmed by hearing Lionel sent me Georgia’s hair, it didn’t even occur to me thathe still has her hair—which means that box was never a figment of my imagination like I feared.
For several moments, all I can do is blink in stunned silence.
“Holy shit,” I whisper once I find my voice, my stare reflexively snapping over to Dread.
He has his elbow propped on the door while he runs his long fingers over his lips contemplatively, sightlessly staring straight ahead out of the windshield. Tension radiates from him in waves, but I can’t decipher what exactly he’s feeling.
“Can you get a search warrant?” I ask Barry, turning my stare ahead and giving Dread the space to process.
This time, it’s very clear what type of sigh Barry gives me. It’s full of frustration.
“Not without probable cause,” he answers, his voice more despondent.
My relief is short-lived, replaced with foreboding. Lionel’s been calling me home this entire time, and I’ve continued to defy him, but maybe it’s no longer in my best interest. Now that we have confirmation Lionel is still holding on to his lockbox, maybe Ishouldgo home so I canfind it.
“Rev…” Barry’s voice draws me back to reality. “It’s obvious someone is helping him, and there’s a chance it could be a student.”
I frown. “Well, yeah, Ro?—”
“But it’s not Roxi,” he says quickly, causing me to stutter.
“Wh— H-how do you know?”
Another heavy exhale, but this one sounds as if he doesn’t want to tell me something. My heart rate kicks up.
“Barry?” I push.
“She has an airtight alibi.” The crease between my brows deepens, along with my confusion. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her since you first told me about her, and…” He hesitates. “She was in California, sweetheart. The press has photos of her walking into Lionel’s house only an hour before you called.”
My mouth drops, and while my brain short-circuits, I sputter yet again.
“Wh-what? Then… Who the fuck is helping him?”
It’s a rhetorical question, of course, yet it still enrages me that we don’t know.
“None of this makes any fucking sense, Barry. It’s not Lionel, because Officer Hillcrest confirmed him to be home. It’s not Roxi because she’s with Lionel. And it’s not the copycat because he’s in California going on a murder spree?”
My hand flies to my forehead as I shake my head, my frustration mounting until it feels as if I’m on the verge of spontaneously combusting. This is all just so fuckingconfusing.
“She’s the obvious suspect, but it’s entirely possible she was meant to be a red herring. A way to manipulate you, nothing more. Lionel is smart and could’ve befriended another student to do his dirty work.”
I understand why Barry has to consider all angles and possibilities, but something about Lionel bringing multiple people into his fold just screams the complete opposite of something he’d do. Granted, maybe he’s found a way to manipulate or blackmail them into doing his bidding without revealing who he actually is, but it still seems too risky to me. Working with the copycat, I can understand—the necessity of maintaining his innocent image and needing another to continue the Locksmithmurder spree while he’s in prison. But young students who are likely not major criminals and would crack under pressure if caught?
It’s just… implausible.
Then again, who else could it be if not someone else?
An uncomfortable feeling prods at the back of my mind, and it has my heart dropping into a well of anxiety in my gut. The first time I got this feeling when I called Barry to tell him about the box being thrown at the window, I refused to put words to it. Now that it’s returned, I still don’t want to.
All my information has come from one source, yet none of it is adding up…
