I just had to hold on to the hope that they were right, that this would all mean that the stalker wouldn’t strike again. Not until we had time to come up with a plan, one that would keep us all safe and allow us to find out who was behind everything.
“We need to do this.”
Gray’s hushed voice snapped me back to the present, and I nodded, realizing we’d come to a stop after driving for a while. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t even noticed us leavingthe campus behind. We silently exited the car as planned, and I moved around to the driver’s side. Grayson probably couldn’t see me in the darkness, so I reached out blindly, finding his arm and squeezing it. He reached out with his other hand, catching my gloved fingers between his and squeezing back, a silent agreement that we were in this together.
Up ahead, a set of headlights flashed once, illuminating the high stalks of corn around us for a second before plunging them into darkness again. Wind rustled through the field, sending a shiver down my spine and I moved closer to Grayson, tightening my grip on his hand.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, dipping his head to my ear, his breath warm on my chilled skin. Together, we moved toward the light source as silently as we could, treading lightly across the dirt surface beneath our feet.
The clouds parted to show a sliver of crescent moon suspended in the night sky, allowing me to see the outline of the car that waited for us. Grayson released my hand as we reached it, opening the door. Before he could make a move, I climbed into the back seat. He huffed out a breath but slid into the front passenger seat, closing the door behind us as quietly as he could.
“Here it is.” Cruz’s voice was solemn in the silence. It was unusual for him, and it sent another shiver down my spine, for a whole different reason. A tiny glow appeared around him, dimmed by a black shadow above the light source, and I realized he had his phone flashlight on beneath what was probably a heavy jacket or something. Grayson leaned in, ducking his head, and I shifted forward, leaning between the seats and following his gaze.
“Fucking hell,” Grayson choked out, clamping his hand over his mouth. I swallowed down the bile in my throat, concentrating on breathing in and out until the nausea receded enough for me to speak.
“Are…are there more?”
“Yeah,” Cruz said hoarsely. “I got two more.”
“Show us,” Grayson commanded. None of us missed the shake in his voice.
Cruz slid another photo on top of the first one. This one was a close-up of Olivia’s torso, the slice in her throat at the top of the image, the red line dripping with blood. On her chest, right above her heart, was a symbol, crudely smudged over her skin with smears of red.
“It looks like the symbol,” I whispered, at the same time as Gray’s muttered, “Fuck.”
“It’s linked.” Cruz shuffled the images, placing the next one on top. “See?”
The final image was of the symbol itself. There were differences to the one carved into the stone of the crypt entrance, but there was no doubt in my mind they were related somehow. The same sharp lines, the same style, almost like runes.
“What does this mean?” I said eventually, after Cruz clicked off the flashlight, plunging us back into darkness.
Grayson exhaled harshly. “It means the game has changed. It means we know that whatever we found at the lake, it connects with this. It means that whatever we thought we were dealing with, we’ve only scratched the surface.”
“It means,” Cruz concluded, “that this shit we’re in? It’s deep. And I don’t know how we get out.”
4
CRUZ
What was normal?
I asked myself that question on the day of the funeral while I sat at home staring blankly at the television. My friends—were they even my friends?—my maybe friends were at the memorial that the school was throwing in honor of Olivia. It made no sense for me to be there since I never spoke to Olivia. Other than Micah and Ava, I wasn’t friendly with anyone in the sports system.
Half, if not most, of the school would be there today. It was normal for people to want to have a sense of community when bad things happened. What happened was fucked up and tragic. Things like that didn’t happen to normal people.
I almost scoffed at the thought.
There had been no normal for me growing up. If I had been following a pattern of sorrows, then what was happening now shouldn’t have been all that surprising. The list of abnormalities stared back at me.
Abandoned when I was a baby—check. I was so lonely I made friends with a sweet old lady who felt sorry for me and shared bread with me on Fridays.
I lost my virginity at fifteen to an eighteen-year-old girl who was making money for tricks—double check.
A year later, my bunkmate drunkenly kissed me, and I came to the conclusion it didn’t repulse me, so I explored my sexuality with him—triple check. And now I could maybe add murdering someone, or being responsible for someone’s death. No, my life wasn’t normal at all.
I told myself I made light of these things because otherwise I would come down with an aneurysm, and that would fucking suck. I mean, could it suck if I ended up dead? Not like I would feel anything at that point.
Ignorance wasn’t helping any of us anymore. I picked up my phone and almost hated what I had to do next.
