"Cooper Cornelius Daniels."
Cooper froze at the threshold of his bedroom, fear rooting him to the spot. He'd barely slept a wink last night. What little sleep he had managed had been plagued by terrifyingly realistic nightmares: in one, a faceless shadow cornered him in his car, wrapping a plastic cord around his throat; in another, he was running through the field outside, chasing after a cat with a knife in his hand.
But it was the third nightmare that had woken him abruptly, a scream caught in his throat: he'd been in his bedroom, standing almost exactly where he was right now, except his hands were slick with blood. Vincent was lying dead on the floor, his arm outstretched toward the window, as if he'd tried to escape. His throat was torn open. Calla had appeared in the doorway and sighed. "You've made a real mess of things, haven't you?"
Cooper shuddered. Dreams. They were just dreams.
His nerves were absolutely toast, to say the least. "Yeah?" he finally managed.
His mom pattered down the hall, a smoothie in one hand and her car keys in the other. "What's this I hear about you skipping class?"
He ratted me out. Cooper scowled. Sheriff Marks had always been a periphery figure in his life—a man he knew and trusted. So this? This was a low blow.
He sighed, half-hanging from the doorframe. "Sheriff Marks told you?"
"You bet he did." She raised an eyebrow, giving him her classic I dare you to take a tone with me look.
He did not dare. "I just ran to get an orientation packet from—"
She wasn't having any of his bullshit. "And that couldn't wait until the weekend?"
He averted his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't do it again," she warned, poking his shoulder before returning to the kitchen. "Ted's a good man. He's just looking after you. He's been good to us, you know."
Yeah, well. I wish he would look after me a little less. But instead, he said, "I know."
She gave him a long look over her shoulder, assessing his tone. "No, Coop. I don't think you do." She turned away, facing the sink. "Lasagna okay for dinner?"
He grasped at the change in subject with a little too much gusto. "Yes, please."
She gave him another look and rolled her eyes—had all been forgiven, then?—and he took that as his cue to leave. Grabbing his backpack, he planted a kiss on her cheek, just for good measure, and then half-ran out the door, blowing out a relieved breath once he was safely inside his car.
Ted's a good man. He's just looking out for you. He's been good to us, you know.
Cooper couldn't help but think about the picture Calla had found in the sheriff's office. He's been good to us, you know. What was that about? Sure, his mom had always been friendly with the man. But a baby picture shoved in the back of his desk? Cooper wasn't so sure about that. It made him...uncomfortable.
Shoving the thought aside—he really did have other, more important matters on his plate at the moment—he picked up his phone. There were many things out of his control. Calla's temper. Vincent's curiosity. Tom's insufferable nose for trouble.
But this? This was something he could control.
Steeling his nerves, he called the first number that popped up on his screen. It rang. And rang. And rang.
"Come on," he murmured, leg jittering. "Come on—"
"What?"
"Come—hey!" Cooper sat up straight, butterflies erupting in his stomach. "Hi. Uh. I just...wanted to check in." An awkward pause made his cheeks grow warm.
Finally, Venus took pity on him. "Well. Hi. I guess."
He cleared his throat. "I miss you, V."
Why was this so hard? Vincent and Calla made it look so easy.
Not that easy, he argued, trying to find some silver lining for his own relationship—or lack thereof, depending on how this conversation went. Vincent is sneaking around, looking for clues, shutting her out. And so is she.
He tugged at his hair—one, two, three. Focus. He had to focus.
"I miss you too," Venus grumbled, breaking the silence between them. "Cooper—"
"I'm sorry," he interjected, before she could pick up steam and really get going. What was it Calla was always telling him? Girls like to talk about their feelings. Right. Conversation. Words. Feelings. He could do that. "Can we talk? Like, actually talk?" He bit his lip. "Let me take you out to dinner."
Things had been hard between them. Impossible, even. Cooper had spent a good part of his night—in between the nightmares, of course—contemplating if what he had with Venus was even worth salvaging. They weren't exactly soulmates. That much had become glaringly clear over the last few weeks.
But this relationship, for all its flaws, was one of the few good, decent things he had left in his life—unrelated to murder and death and suffering. Everything else had gone to absolute shit. If he could save this, he had to try. For his own sanity.
Venus sighed. "I don't know, Coop. It's just...this thing with Calla..."
He hesitated. He had to handle this carefully. Very carefully. "Look. Things are complicated right now. And I haven't been fair to you. But Calla and Vincent are...uh, kind of going through a rough patch." Not a lie. Not technically. "She's been asking for advice. And he's my best friend. I just...I felt weird sharing their business. I guess it came across wrong." He scrubbed his face. "I didn't mean to freeze you out or anything."
The other end of the line was silent. Cooper counted to ten. "Venus? Are you still there?"
"I—yeah. Sorry." She cleared her throat. "I...well, now I feel awful. I didn't know they were having issues—"
"No, no." He cut her off. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel like the bad guy. "Babe, it's fine. I just didn't want you to think...y'know. Calla's just a friend. She's my best friend's girl."
"Of course." The relief in her voice was palpable. "Did you want to grab dinner later? So we can...talk?"
"Yes," he answered immediately. And then he swore. "Wait. I promised my mom dinner tonight. Saturday?"
"Saturday," she agreed, her voice full of that warmth she reserved just for him. It brought a smile to his face. "See you at school."
He threw the car in drive, feeling better than he had in ages. Something had finally gone right. Or at least, it was heading in that direction. Despite the chill in the air, he rolled down the windows, savoring the sting on his skin.
His good mood held steady all through cell biology. The same couldn't be said for Mike Richardson. He usually kept the class entertained with his near-constant commentary, cracking jokes and generally causing a fuss, but not today. Today, Mike kept his cheek plastered to the surface of his desk, doodling absently in the margins of his notebook.
It was uncharacteristic, to say the least. The guy was normally a walking ray of sunshine. He had that easy way about him that Cooper had always envied. Even the teachers cut him slack, despite his penchant for trouble.
No one can be happy every second of every day, I guess.
Cooper barely registered when the rest of the class started to pack up their things. He straightened, shaking himself from his stupor. At the front of the room, Stephanie had busied herself with her collection of highlighters. Cooper caught himself staring and quickly looked away, gazing instead at the row of windows along the far wall.
Cooper had thought long and hard about his encounter with Tom Sahein. The kid knew more than he should have—it was clear he'd been keeping tabs on Cooper for a good long while. But it was also clear he'd been getting his information from more than one source.
Stephanie turned and caught his eye. She hit him with a bright, friendly sort of smile—her trademark. Cooper managed a weak one in return, but she was already turning away, striking up a conversation with a sophomore he recognized from the yearbook committee.
Stephanie always has her hands in the cookie jar. He stared down at his hands. Stephanie and Tom weren't close. They weren't even friendly. But if Tom knew about the confrontation between Astrid and Calla, that meant Stephanie had played a role in leaking the information, intentionally or not. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
Cooper's good mood was on the verge of collapse. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, trying to sort through the goldmine of information that had landed in his lap over the last twenty-four hours, when a quiet voice behind him said, "It's almost been two years."
Cooper twisted around in his seat. Mike sat up, rubbing his cheek. His eyes were still downcast, fixated on his notebook.
Cooper almost asked what he meant. But then he realized he already knew—knew, because he himself had been keeping track of the days. "Since Tracy," he said quietly. Around them, the rest of the class continued packing up their things, chattering about the upcoming game.
"Since Tracy," Mike agreed, nodding. He folded his arms, looking like a very moody, very athletically-inclined teddy bear. "And Jacob. Rachel. Jess..."
Cooper looked away. He thought often about the girl whose dead body he'd found that fateful night—about her pink ballerina costume, and her empty eyes, and the bruises at her neck. And Rachel...he thought of her more often than he would have liked to admit. Her laugh. The way her eyes lit up when she smiled.
And the hole she'd left behind, right at the center of their lives.
But Jacob Stein? Cooper had barely spared him a thought since his untimely death. And Jessica...well. He'd never liked her. But that didn't mean she'd deserved to die. She'd had people who'd loved her. Who grieved for her even now.
"I think I'll always love her," Mike said, echoing his thoughts. Cooper glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He'd returned to doodling on his notebook. "Things were complicated between us. Jess was complicated. And Blake..." His expression darkened.
Cooper analyzed a loose thread on his jeans. "Complicated," he surmised.
"Yeah."
Cooper picked at the thread. "Rachel..." He hesitated. "We never got the chance to get to know each other. But I would have liked that." He let out a low, humorless laugh. "And then I feel terrible for even thinking about it. Because of Venus."
He glanced up in time to catch the frown on Mike's face. "Venus." They locked eyes. "I never saw that one coming, you know."
"I don't think anyone did," Cooper joked. "I didn't."
Mike grunted. "Venus used to worship the ground Jess walked on," he said, his mood growing more foul with each word. "But I guess she replaced her easily enough, huh? Now it's Stephanie this and Stephanie that. Life goes on."
Before Cooper could ask what he meant, the bell rang. Mike stood, flicked his pencil into the floor, and grabbed his bag. "See you."
Cooper watched him go, feeling his good mood slip away. Well. It was nice while it lasted. He heaved a sigh and headed for his next class, decidedly less chipper.
Venus used to worship the ground Jess walked on. But I guess she replaced her easily enough, huh?
Mike had sounded so...bitter. Which was strange, given his recent infatuation with Stephanie. Did he feel guilty for finally moving on with someone else? Jessica certainly would've been furious to find her old life uprooted by her ex-best friend. But Jessica was dead. She was dead, and even in life she'd treated the guy like shit. Mike didn't owe her a thing.
Grief doesn't have an expiration date. Right, Coop?
These were the thoughts that consumed him all through second and third period. During their lunch hour, he ate his sandwich in contemplative silence, trying to analyze the situation from multiple angles. Maybe Mike's dark mood had nothing to do with his dead ex-girlfriend. Maybe the guy had other things on his mind. If he and Astrid were working together to cover up the truth behind Rachel's murder...
The bell rang, startling him from his thoughts. Cooper excused himself, presumably to drop by his locker. In reality, he just wanted a few minutes to himself.
Calla watched him go with wide, innocent eyes. They still needed to talk about their next move, but the very thought of that conversation exhausted him. He shook his head. Later, he tried to tell her. That can wait until later.
The hall had cleared out by the time he got to his locker. He propped his forehead against the metal grate and let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Coop."
He jumped. Vincent was striding toward him, his athletic bag slung over one shoulder. "Hey." Cooper started to dial in his locker combination. "What's up?"
Vincent leaned against the locker next to his, eyes speculative. "You weren't at lunch yesterday."
"Nope." Cooper fumbled with the combination and had to start over. "I ditched. Wasn't really in the mood for cell biology. You know?"
"Right. You mentioned that." He crossed his arms, looking quite content to stay perched against the lockers for the entirety of the period.
Cooper's lock finally gave way. He glanced down the hall. "You ditching econ?"
A shrug. Not much of an answer.
"Okay," Cooper drew the word out, feeling suddenly anxious. He grabbed a textbook and closed his locker. "Is something up?"
They stared at each other for a long moment. Cooper's feeling of dread grew.
Until finally, Vincent asked, "Why were you at the Diner with Calla?"
Cooper stood there in silence, at a loss for words.
"Calla cancelled our date," Vincent continued, staring at the opposite wall. A muscle in his jaw fluttered. "So I decided to run a few errands in town. I saw your car at the Diner." Another uncomfortable shrug. "Figured she was with you."
Cooper tapped the spine of the textbook with his index finger, thinking. Lie, Cooper. Lie. "She...wasn't. With me, I mean."
"I don't believe you." Vincent looked at him then. Cooper saw the anger there. The betrayal.
The suspicion.
Cooper laughed—a breathy, nervous sort of sound. "I'm not—"
"We share locations with each other," Vincent cut in. "I was curious, so I checked hers. Calla was there. At the Diner. With you. Why lie about it?"
Cooper felt heat rise to his face. Vincent had baited him. The question had been a test, and he'd failed spectacularly. "Yeah, well." He waved the textbook between them. "I'm not the only one lying around here. You 'decided to run a few errands'? Seriously?" He raised a skeptical brow. "With Tom Sahein?"
Vincent blanched. "How—"
"I was at the Diner, remember?" Cooper interjected. "I saw you there. Both of you."
Vincent straightened, pushing off of the lockers. Cooper refused to step away, to be intimidated by the sheer size of him. "He's tutoring me," Vincent said quietly.
Cooper waited a beat. And then he threw Vincent's words back in his face. "I don't believe you."
Silence descended. A long, uncomfortable sort of silence. The divide that had grown between them suddenly felt insurmountable.
Vincent's nostrils flared. His next words were a bit breathless. "Do you remember that night? At the mansion?"
The conversation had taken a dangerous turn. "Do I remember that night?" Cooper rolled his eyes and held out his scarred hand. "It's kind of hard to forget."
"You told me Cory killed three people," Vincent pressed. Cooper's gut clenched. "Three. Not four. It didn't make sense then, and it doesn't make sense now."
Cooper used the same excuse he'd pulled with Calla. "I'd just been knocked unconscious, Vincent." He shrugged and turned away. "I don't remember what I said."
Please let it go. Please, please. Just let this go.
"Coop," Vincent called. He hadn't followed. He still stood by the locker, his knuckles white as he clutched the strap of his bag. "I want to know the truth. Please."
That one word nearly broke him. In all their years of friendship, they'd never hid anything from each other. They'd grown up together. They'd laughed together and suffered together and survived together. And when they got older and their lives got messier, they relied on one another to see it through. Sure, it had taken Vincent a few weeks to come clean about his affair with Astrid. But he had come clean.
Because Cooper was his best friend.
His throat tightened. This was different. Vincent only thought he wanted the truth. He had no idea...
Cooper had to force his next words through his teeth."That is the truth," he called back, spreading his arms wide as he backpedaled down the hall. "That's it. That's all there is."
With his eyes, he tried to convey the words he couldn't say. Let it go. Let it go. Vincent held his stare for a few agonizing seconds. And then, slowly, he shook his head. Cooper had his answer.
Vincent wasn't going to let this go.
Cooper froze in the middle of the hall. He opened his mouth—to say what, exactly?—but it was too late. Vincent turned and stalked down the hall, shoulders tense. Only once he'd disappeared from sight did Cooper back against the nearest wall and slide to the floor, his head in his hands.
"That went well."
Cooper didn't look up as a pair of black boots stepped into his periphery, nor did he react as the newcomer slid to the floor beside him, her shoulder brushing his.
Calla said nothing more. And so they sat there in silence, side by side, contemplating what they'd just heard and everything that it implied.
Finally, Cooper lifted his head and looked at her. Her expression was carefully composed. Neutral. But he knew what to look for—the slight downward tilt at the corner of her mouth, the tic in her left eyebrow. Telltale signs of a dark storm on the horizon.
She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. It wasn't a reassuring touch. Cooper knew better than to hope for something like that from her.
No, her touch was a reminder—to stay the course and keep his mouth shut.
"Things will get worse before they get better," she said quietly. Her hand slipped from his shoulder.
He closed his eyes. "That's what I'm worried about. I don't know if we'll survive the worse part, Calla. Not this time."
"We'll survive," is all she said.
"Maybe we weren't meant to." He looked at her then. "Maybe we were supposed to die in that mansion."
Her expression hardened. "No."
But Cooper couldn't get the thought out of his head. What if the last two years had been borrowed time? What if their day of reckoning was coming at last? He wasn't sure if he believed in karma, or even in any sort of religion, but he was sure that they'd been playing with fire without consequences for far too long.
Someone had to get burned eventually.