"Stephanie?" Cooper blurted. He couldn't mask his shock—or his disgust, for that matter. For some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he'd kissed her. His lips burned at the memory.
Astrid Baker, my ass. He shot Calla a scandalized look. "How do we always get it so wrong?"
She scowled back at him. "This is not the time or the place for that conversation."
"Lover's quarrel?" Stephanie crooned.
"Fuck you," Calla said evenly, moving to stand directly in her line of sight. She glanced over at Cooper, eyes dark with warning.
Whatever happens, just...focus on Vincent. Nothing else. Got it?
Stephanie clucked her tongue and withdrew a dull black object from the waistband of her jeans. A gun, Cooper realized, horrified. Where the hell did she get a gun?
"Such a temper." She brandished the weapon like a pair of ceremonial scissors. Cooper suddenly understood how she'd managed to lure Vincent to the school. A pistol to the head could be quite convincing. "I didn't know you had it in you."
Calla was drawn taut as a bow. Her focus never wavered from the gun in the other girl's hand. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb," Stephanie said, pouting like a child. She began to circle them. The sound of her heeled boots echoed across the gym. Clack. Clack. Clack. "That's no fun. No fun at all."
"Is that what this is about?" Calla raised a skeptical brow. "Having fun?"
"Yes and no." Stephanie stood directly behind them now, having continued her circuit around the basketball court at a leisurely pace. Cooper moved as if to face her, and as he did so, he took a surreptitious step to the right—one foot closer to Vincent. If Stephanie noticed, she didn't let on. "This is your fault, you know. Because you didn't play by the rules."
Calla's right hand flickered, moving to her back pocket. "Rules," she repeated dully. "You're going to have to be a little more specific."
Stephanie paused. "You took away my plaything." Her eyes slid to Vincent, hungry. "Now I'm going to take away yours."
You took away my plaything. Cooper inched further to the right. "You're talking about Cory," he guessed, stalling for time. "Because he was your date to the gala, like, one time?" He scoffed in a show of false bravado. "I really don't get the allure. The guy was...what, an eight on a good day?" He looked to Calla for confirmation. "Was he a good kisser, or something? Because I'm just not seeing what the fuss is all about."
Calla shot him an exasperated look. We have to keep her distracted, he tried to say, widening his eyes to convey his intentions. Something flickered in her expression. Understanding, maybe. But then it was gone just as quickly.
Stephanie curled her lip at their exchange. "Yes, Cory was plenty pretty to look at. Until Calla ruined him." She frowned down at the gun, considering it with distaste. "I read the autopsy report. You really did a number on him."
"He was trying to kill us." Cooper glared at her. "What were we supposed to do? Hold hands?"
"You were supposed to die." Stephanie rolled her eyes, as if this were obvious. "All three of you."
You were supposed to die. Cooper stared at her, stunned. "You mean..."
Calla barked out a laugh. "Oh, that's rich. You were helping him, weren't you?" She folded her arms. "The Robin to Cory's Batman."
Anger flitted across Stephanie's face. There and then gone, quickly replaced with a conspiratorial smile. "Cooper was right about that, at least." She wandered back across the gym, gun held loosely between her fingers. "You really do get everything wrong. Don't you, Calla?"
While her back was turned, Cooper inched closer to Vincent. Close. He was so damn close. But did it matter, really? He had no way to cut Vincent loose, and no strength to haul him bodily from the gymnasium if he didn't wake from his stupor. And if his head injury was more severe than it looked...
Cooper swallowed his panic, refocusing on the problem at hand. Stephanie had deposited herself onto the lowest bench, and stared at them now with the kind of smug superiority that made him want to break her nose. The gun was nestled in her lap. Harmless.
For now.
Calla merely analyzed her, speculative. At last, she smiled. "Unless, of course..." A raised brow. "Cory was your Robin?"
Stephanie picked at a loose thread in her artfully ripped jeans. "What makes you say that?"
"Several things." Calla wandered over to the free throw line, seemingly at random. Stephanie tracked her every movement. "Like the fairytale book, for one. I don't think Cory had anything to do with it."
Cooper turned to her, momentarily distracted. "What?"
"Yes." Stephanie spread her hands. "Do tell."
Calla gazed at the rafters overhead. "Cory's disappearance at the party went unnoticed, so he couldn't have been gone all that long. That's my theory, anyway," Calla mused, turning to pace back to their side of the court. When she passed in front of Cooper, momentarily blocking him from view, he risked another step to the right.
"Which means Cory had to have gone upstairs, stolen the book, left the note..." She paused. "And he did it all before Cooper could find the body. We're talking minutes. That's a pretty tight window for anyone. How did he know which book to choose? And how did he find it so quickly? He wasn't familiar with that house, or the library. The dots just don't connect."
Stephanie smirked. The sight unnerved him. "That's a pretty weak observation."
"Maybe." Calla stopped. Looked to the bleachers. The two girls assessed each other in silence, broken only when Calla murmured, "But then I remembered something. You told me once you used to read your little brother bedtime stories. I'm going to take a wild guess and say he liked the fairytales. Snow White. Faithful John..."
Stephanie tossed back her head and laughed—a short burst of delight. "You do have quite the memory. I'll admit." She raised her hands. "I'm impressed."
Cooper's astonishment glued him to the spot. "But if the book was your idea..."
He turned. Behind him, Calla's expression had turned grim. "That means you were upstairs that night. You saw everything."
"Every. Little. Nasty. Thing." Stephanie looked at Cooper then, eyes bright with amusement. "Our girl here is a ruthless murderer. Poor Tracy. All she ever did was laugh."
"Yes. She laughed at my expense," Calla hissed. Her mask of ambivalence had cracked. In its place, she wore her fury like a plate of armor—hands clenched and eyes ablaze. "And everyone else's."
Cooper tried not to react to her words. He wouldn't give Stephanie the satisfaction. Very carefully, he tucked the information away for safekeeping. If they survived this—
When, he corrected himself. When we survive this, we'll address whatever the hell that meant.
Stephanie laughed at the sight of her so undone. "Tracy, Tracy. She begged like a bitch at the end, didn't she?"
Calla said nothing. Cooper closed his eyes and saw Tracy as she'd been when he'd found her: sightless eyes staring ahead, bruises lining her throat.
She begged like a bitch at the end.
"Naturally, I was caught off guard," Stephanie continued. "I'd followed Cory upstairs for my own reasons. Like I said..." She winked. "He was just so damn pretty. But then Tracy was stumbling in and out of rooms like a drunk fool, ruining everything, and up you came. And the rest...well, I never expected anything like that. Not from you, at least. Calla Parker. Miss good grades. Miss pretty red hair."
Stephanie tilted her head, thoughtful. "Looking back, I'm not sure why I didn't see it. You've always been so...perfect. Too perfect. I suppose that's because you're not real. You're just...an empty shell, full of blood and endless rage." A mocking sigh. "Poor thing."
Calla's expression hardened back into ice. Impassive. Unreadable. "You have no idea what I am."
"And you do?" Stephanie's eyes widened with childish disbelief. "I really doubt that. Look at you, wandering around town with your lost little puppy." A glance in Cooper's direction. He stiffened. "Can you do any tricks, little puppy?"
"Come over here and I'll show you a few," Cooper snarled.
Stephanie grinned. "Don't be like that, Coop." She wagged her eyebrows. "You were so much nicer at the party. A very...hands-on kind of guy."
He took a step forward, away from Vincent. "I'll make you beg like a—"
"Why?" Calla asked, interrupting him. "Why did you do it? Why did you do any of it? Encouraging Cory. Keeping my secret."
Cooper flushed. Stephanie had baited him, had drawn him further away from his goal—Vincent, unconscious, bound and helpless. Whatever happens, Calla had told him. And here he was, losing himself to the antics of a deranged lunatic.
Because Stephanie was deranged. There was no other word for it—except maybe egotistical, or maniacal, or sociopathic to an unhealthy degree. She'd witnessed a murder, and her first instinct had been to plot how best to make it into a form of entertainment.
Cooper shifted, placing himself in front of Vincent. Stephanie paid him no mind. She grabbed the gun and pushed herself to her feet, balancing precariously on the edge of her bench. Cooper had the sudden, savage wish she would fall and break her neck.
"Well, I was gonna go to the police. Scout's honor," Stephanie announced, spreading her arms wide to better keep her balance. "But Cory...he begged me to keep your secret. He knew I had evidence, and he was just so desperate to protect you. Which was kind of sweet. And really annoying." She made a face. "He would've done anything I asked. For your sake, of course. And that's when I realized how much fun I could have with it all."
Calla had gone very still. "What evidence?"
"Hmm? Oh. Yes." Stephanie smiled serenely. "I took a few pictures. For the memories."
Cooper swore. Calla didn't react. She expected something like this, he guessed.
"That's why I never go anywhere without my phone," Stephanie continued. "Unless, of course..." Her smile turned wicked. "I want it found."
They both stared at her, lost for words. Calla was the first to find her voice. "The party. Blake. You let me think—"
"—that you were being clever? Look at that. She finally catches on." Stephanie snickered. "It was the highlight of my night, really. Watching you scramble around. I figured if I just let you have your fun, maybe rifle around in my things, it'd get you off my trail. Make you doubt yourself."
Furious color rose to Calla's face. It was a testament to her self-control that she held her tongue, seething in silent humiliation.
"Speaking of which," Stephanie murmured, reaching into the pocket of her oversized jacket. "Is this what you were looking for?"
She brandished a hot pink flash drive between her manicured fingers, triumphant.
While Stephanie continued to grandstand, Cooper managed to slip further to the right, sliding steadily nearer to the center of the court. If he could just grab Vincent, he might be able to...what? Haul his body across the gym, all while avoiding the barrage of bullets that would likely follow in their wake?
He had a sinking feeling it wasn't going to be that easy. And even that would be a monumental effort.
"That's too bad." Stephanie pocketed the flash drive with a weary sigh. "So close, and yet..." She snapped her fingers.
"You know what? I think I'm done with the villain monologue," Calla said. To Cooper's horror, she began to stalk forward.
Stephanie raised the gun. "Unfortunately, you aren't calling the shots here. And Cooper?" She flicked the gun to indicate he should step aside, away from Vincent. "A for effort. But let's stop trying to play the hero. Step away from my captive."
Cooper grudgingly retreated, hands raised. Calla did the same, and within seconds they were standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
"What now?" Cooper whispered out of the corner of his mouth, dropping his hands.
"We keep her talking."
"Talking is my specialty."
Calla smiled at that. "Then let's play to your strengths."
Stephanie glanced down at the watch on her wrist and frowned. Cooper latched onto the distraction. "Running behind schedule? Kidnapping seems like pretty time-consuming work, if you ask me."
She sneered at him. "Then it's a good thing no one asked you."
"Then what's the plan?" Calla asked. "You can't hold us at gunpoint forever."
Stephanie sighed. "Are you really so eager to die? That's how this ends, you know. Vincent? Dead. Cooper—"
"Alive?" he offered hopefully.
Her lips flattened into a thin line. "No. But don't worry, Coop. You'll die a heroic death."
"Sick," he muttered. Calla smacked his shoulder, and he grimaced. "Kidding."
"Let me guess," she drawled, turning the full force of her ire on Stephanie. "You're going to make it look like I killed them. Aren't you?"
"Isn't it fitting?" Stephanie beamed. "Everyone will think you were just...tying up a few loose ends. For your dead lover," she purred.
Calla made a face of disgust. "Cory? Seriously?"
"Finishing what he started." Stephanie looked rather pleased with herself. "I'll plant the flash card and Detective Blowhead will put together the rest."
Cooper's hand shot up. "Question. If Calla kills us both, how does she die?"
"I'll make it look like you put up a fight," Stephanie said simply. "You'll wrestle her for the gun and get off a lucky shot. And then you'll...kill yourself, or something. From, y'know." She waved the gun in a vague gesture. "Grief, or whatever. I guess that technically means she'll only kill one of you, but—"
Calla choked on a laugh. Cooper made a face, dampening his budding panic. "Hold on. That's terribly unrealistic. Why would I kill myself?"
Stephanie sighed, impatient. "Because your best friend will be dead, you idiot. And so will the girl you love. Obviously."
Calla giggled. The sound was so unexpected, Cooper found himself grinning. "Uh, newsflash," Calla managed to say. "If Cooper was going to kill himself over Venus, he would've done it months ago."
Stephanie sneered. "I wasn't talking about—"
"She's right," Cooper cut in, much to Stephanie's chagrin. "Plus, I'm not a big gun guy. I'd probably miss the important bits or something. And then I'd end up in a shitty vegetative state, and that would be embarrassing as f—"
"Shut up!" Stephanie waved the gun between them. Her eyes were wide and somewhat wild. "Both of you!"
Cooper fell silent. The fear he'd been keeping at bay through sheer force of will broke at last, setting his hands to shaking. Before he could think better of it, he wrapped his fingers around Calla's wrist, seeking an anchor to steady himself. After a moment's hesitation, she slipped her hand into his.
He thought he might say something to her then, like thanks for not letting me die here alone. But the words burned, and so did the back of his eyes. He blinked away moisture and took a steadying breath.
There was nothing left to say and there was too much to say. Cooper squeezed her hand and hoped that it would be enough.
"Cooper—" Calla started.
She was interrupted when the side entrance to the gymnasium burst open, momentarily blinding them both. Cooper grimaced and turned his head.
"You're late," Stephanie whined, squinting at the figure that had materialized in the sunlit doorway.
Cooper blinked away the red spots dancing across his vision, and at last recognized the newcomer as he moved out of the doorway and onto the court, his eyes downcast.
"Is that..." Cooper stared, aghast. "Mike?"