He swiped away a notification on his screen. Jen’s mouth dropped open. “Your phone works?” It would be just like Patrick to intentionally strand them at the cabin for some forced togetherness.
“It never works when I check. Data’s spotty. These news headlines must be slipping in the rare time it connects.”
“Anything interesting? Like a Slasher wannabe on the loose?”
He shrugged. “They found a dead guy in an alley in Fairvale.”
“So just another Friday night in the big city.” Jen made a face. “This is all your fault, you know.”
“Mine?” Patrick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and hurt.
“We arenevergetting together at a remote house again. No one gets killed by slashers in shitty little city apartments. No one stupidly runs up the stairs, because there are no stairs. There are lots of people around who’ll hear you scream. Andworking cell phones.”
She stabbed her knife into the air to emphasize each word. “Working. Cell. Phones! When I get my trust fund money, I’m renting a garret in Paris. You never see slashers in Paris. Everyone’s having too much fun eating bread and having torrid affairs with hot girls named Céline or Anaïs to go on killing sprees.”
“Come on, we still don’t know if we’re in danger from Russ. If he tried to drown Tiffany, wouldn’t his hair have been wet?”
Jen frowned, trying to remember Russ’s features. She’d just spotted the goofy uniform and immediately thought,Loser.“It wasn’t?”
“No. When I was trying to figure out why he looked familiar, I noticed his hair first. It was kind of bushy. Like my mom’s Pomeranian.”
Jen pursed her lips. Her earlier outrageous thought when they’d found the mask in Freddy’s van returned. No, it couldn’t have been Freddy terrorizing Tiff. He didn’t have the balls. She tried toremember who else hadn’t been by the lake when Tiffany had almost drowned.
Mikey and Jason.
Mikey could’ve been playing a practical joke, and in usual Mikey fashion wasn’t owning up to it for fear of the consequences. But he wouldn’t do that to Tiff. She didn’t take jokes well and he’d be afraid to make her mad. The only person Mikey would ever prank was Jason, because Jason would only laugh and not give him shit about it.
“Maybe it was Jason,” Jen said.
“What?”
“I’m trying to think of everyone who wasn’t by the lake while Tiff was swimming. Freddy, Mikey, and Jason. Freddy’s too much of a slacker to hurt anyone intentionally, Mikey’s too afraid of getting into trouble. That leaves Jason. Who actually has a motive as Tiff’s ex.”
“That’s impossible. He loves Tiffany!” Patrick said.
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. But they’ve split up again and maybe he’s jealous, or he’s had enough of her shit. She’s seeing someone new, you know. Again.”
Patrick was silent, and Jen could tell he was struggling with that thought. For many reasons.
“It’s like in theScreammovies,” she added. “It’s always the cute love interest. And there’s something off about Jason this weekend. It’s like he suddenly has a short fuse. You noticed it, too, didn’t you? He never used to be so shouty.”
Patrick’s silence was answer enough. Jen nodded. He most certainly had noticed a change in Jason, but didn’t want to admit it out of loyalty. “Why would you think it’s one of us in the first place?” he said defensively.
Jen cocked her head, mulling it over. “True. If one of us really was a psycho killer, my money would be on you.”
“Excuse me?” Patrick looked hurt.
“You’re the straitlaced yuppie freak who’s obsessed with horror films. You iron your boxers, don’t you?”
“I don’t like how wrinkled cotton feels against my skin,” he mumbled.
Jen cast a sidelong glance at him. His mouth was tight as he ambled by her side like a reluctant child. She tapped her chin thoughtfully with the flat of the knife’s blade. “There’s something off about you, too, this weekend. Like you’re hiding something.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Nothing except his feelings for Jason. Jen had enough mercy to not call that out. She arched an eyebrow. “Everyone’s got something to hide. Even if it’s just from themselves. Got any homicidal tendencies tucked under your starched collars, Velma?”
Patrick sputtered a protest. She grinned. God, she enjoyed winding him up. He needed to be flustered now and then. Someone needed to put some wrinkles into his khakis, and since Jason wasn’t rising to the occasion, it would have to be her.
