Second Nature (17 page)

And he was true to his
word.

We drove to his house and
napped in his room.

I woke, again feeling
like the walls of the room protected us from everything else. His
arm,
draped over my waist and pinning me to him, was a
comfort like no other, except that it was cold in his room. Even he felt kind
of cool.

I sighed and closed my
eyes again but my phone vibrated. I reached over his deeply sleeping body and
grabbed it and my glasses, pulling them on.

The whole world stopped
when I saw the text.

It was a picture of Jake
and me sleeping, sent from Rachel’s phone, into the group chat, with a text
below it.

Something you want to tell everyone, Lainey?

My breath became rapid as
I looked around the room. The time on the clock in the photo was 5:13. It was now
5:40. The angle was from the far corner of the dark bedroom, where his desk
sat. I scanned the area, looking for the angle the photo would have been taken
from. Was it an object on the desk or the computer itself? Was the house
completely bugged?

My phone rang. I closed
my eyes when I saw Lindsey’s name, but I answered it, dreading the fact that
she had seen the picture but even more worried the killer might have hacked
Jake’s computer or planted a camera. “Hello?”

“Dude, what the hell?”

“I can explain.” I shook
my head as fear and panic crept into the small spaces of my mind. “Jake and I,
we are kinda—”

“I don't give a shit that
you’re dating Jake. We sort of knew anyway. He told Vince about being crazy
about you ages ago. I told Vincent you loved Ash, but no one cares who you
date. What the hell is with the picture? Is the killer in the house with you?
That pic came from Rachel’s phone.” Her voice was a whisper.

My mind had gone to a
camera, something planted that might have been watching us, but her words
created a very different story in my head. “Oh God, I don't know.” I swallowed
hard, pushing on Jake. “I’ll call you back.”

“Get out of the house!”
She hung up as I shoved Jake again, rolling him. He didn't budge. I pushed him
onto his back, and through the shirt he wore, I noted there was a distinct lack
of rise and fall to his chest.

I
shivered,
reaching with unsteady hands to the spot on his neck I should feel a pulse. My
jaw trembled as I realized there was nothing and he was cool. “Jake?” I whispered.
I wanted to shout and scream but there was no sound in me. Fear had crippled my
body. I wanted to run, but I couldn't leave him there. Tears filled my eyes,
fogging up my glasses. “Jake.”

I pressed a quick text to
Lindsey:
Help me! Call 9-1-1! At Jakes!

There was no way the
killer was going to let me call 9-1-1 if he was watching.

She started messaging
back, but I clicked off the phone and put it in my back pocket before trying
again to find his pulse. He wasn’t so cold that I thought he was dead but there
was no pulse.

He could be drugged or
just—
shit!

I dragged my fingertips
up and down him, looking for a wound but there was nothing—until I found
the dart in his arm. I plucked it out, staring at the red tip where his blood
had coated it. I dropped it on the floor, looking for an answer.

The wind toyed with his
curtains. Had someone shot at him through the window? Were they still out there
on the ledge?

My brain didn't want to
register his being dead or hurt. It wanted to survive the next few minutes. It
pushed Jake to a dangerous place in the back of my mind.

I sniffled, taking
breaths, trying to come up with a plan.

My phone buzzed, making
me jump, but I ignored it, scanning the room. His desk area was clear and I
could see behind it. There was no one. I glanced over my shoulder, jumping with
a gasp when I saw a hoodie on the floor. It was dark gray but it was empty.
Just dirty laundry on the floor.

Or was it? Had the killer
left it behind?

Or was it a ghost who had
melted into the floor?

There was no one in the
bedroom with us.

But then I glanced at the
closet doors, and I knew.

One door was slightly
ajar, making a thick black line in the seam. It was enough for a person to peer
through. The room wasn't dark but it was dusk outside. The light was muted.

The killer was in the
closet, hiding in the shadows. He had to be.

I needed to run before
they burst from there or shot me too.

I glanced down, not
actually taking my stare from the closet doors and took three breaths. I used
them to count as nerves built inside me.

My route was planned.

On the third breath I
jumped off the bed, sprinting for the door as a silver barrel lifted and the
smallest measure of light glinted off it, as it
raised
in the dark space between the closet doors.

I wasn’t going to make it.

A scream tore from my
lips as I threw open the
door, hearing something whistle
past my ear and hit the wall beside me.

“HELP! HELP ME!” I ran
down the hall for the stairs, seeing a dark figure behind me. I grabbed for the
railing, taking the stairs two and three at a time, leaping at the bottom,
twisting my ankle. My body didn't register the pain I knew it felt.

“HELP!”

I slid on the marble
floor, skidding for the door, throwing it open too. It banged on the wall as
fresh air surrounded me. I screamed again, “HELP!”

I raced past Jake’s car,
realizing I didn't have keys or a car here.

My feet on the driveway,
slapping and scraping was the only sound.

Everything got quiet.

A stabbing pain started
to pulse up my calf. The twisted ankle was going to get me killed.

I knew that was true, and
yet I fought the notion. I refused to die for being clumsy.

I didn’t look back. I ran
hard for the end of the driveway.

Each breath shot from me
as my heart pounded in my head.

I didn't hear
anyone else, just me and the panic bursting from myself in breaths
and sobs that slipped past my spit-covered lips
.

Seeing the guardhouse, I
pushed harder, ignoring the pain in my leg.

When I got closer, I
cried out, “HELP! OPEN THE GATE! CALL THE POLICE! PLEASE!”

But the gate stayed closed,
and it didn't look like the guard was there. Instead of running to the gate and
trying to climb it, I hurried into the guardhouse, slamming the door. I locked
it and checked the windows to ensure they were locked.

My fingernail slammed
into one of the window locks, ripping off. I screamed and cried, with tears and
snot and spit making the labored breaths and sobs sound gross.

I spun in a trembling
circle to see if anyone was there.

My whole body shook as my
eyes fuzzed, even with my foggy glasses on.

A dark shape ran past the
window, making me jump and scream.

It ran past again.

I dropped to my knees,
slumping on the floor and pushing on the door.

It was the only way into
the guardhouse.

Noises outside tried to
drive me crazy, but I plugged my ears and closed my eyes and waited for death.

I didn't know what else
to do.

The hanged
man
heart

The sound of the sirens
and screaming was what told me I was still alive. Before that there had been
doubt in my mind.

Everything was in flashes. My eyes
didn't see everything. My brain didn't comprehend half of what I saw. My ears
only caught small bursts of words being screamed that didn't make whole
sentences. It was like I caught some of what each person said but not enough
from one person.

My father was there. He
was crying again. Twice in two weeks was more than I’d seen in my entire
lifetime.

He wrapped around me and
helped me walk. He pushed a police officer. I didn't see why. Something
happened and I was sitting—was it a wheelchair? I glanced down, and as my
finger touched the rubber wheel, everything came rushing back in.

Sound, screaming,
flashing of figures moving so fast and someone crying, “WHERE’S JAKE?”

I looked for the person
screaming, but they weren’t there. I was alone in the room. Everyone had been
there and then they were gone.

I was in a bed.

A
hospital bed.

I didn't recall coming
there.

My mind caught up with
me, the way it had the night Rachel died. I would always remember what I saw
and heard, even if my brain wasn't technically working in that moment. It just
took a little time for the events to catch up with the shock and trauma they
caused. Everything was just fuzzy.

I rubbed my fingers
together, remembering the feel of blood from the tip of the dart.

“Lainey?” my mother
whispered as she crept into the room. Her eyes were red and puffy and her skin
was blotchy.

“Did you find Jake? Was
he poisoned? I couldn't feel a pulse.”

She swallowed hard. “He’s
gone, baby. They can’t find him. They wanted to know what you were doing in his
room.”

Was that what she was
upset about, because I was there? Was that actually the thing that she was
worked up about? Not the killer or the possibly dead boyfriend but the fact I
had one?

Was he my boyfriend?

I wanted him to be. We
hadn’t really cleared that up yet though.

“I was sleeping.” I said
it, praying she would focus on other things. The brave girl who wanted to shout
about her virginity was gone. She had been left behind with the boy she loved.

Loved?

Had I really just thought
that word?

“My head is moving slow.”
The words fell out of my fat lips. I smacked them together.

“They gave you something.
You were screaming and scaring the other patients. You were wailing, actually.”
Tears leaked from her eyes.

My parents were becoming
people I didn't know. My china-doll-looking mom was missing, along with the
brave girl I had imagined myself to be.

“Where’s my phone?”

She sat on my bed and
pulled it from her pocket, laying it in my palm. I swiped and entered my
passcode. A sigh heaved from me when I saw the picture. “I was sleeping, Mom. I
was finally sleeping.” I showed her the picture. A sob escaped her lips.

I didn’t care if she was
disappointed in me.

“Did they find him? He
was drugged I think.” I shook my head, wishing I could block it out. “I
couldn't wake him, and he had no pulse. But that could have been the point,
right? Maybe the drugs slowed it down.”

She reached forward,
wiping my tears as her own drowned her face. “No, honey. The dart they found on
the floor in the bedroom, it wasn’t a sleeping drug. It was poison.”

“Maybe not enough got in
his wound, maybe he only got a little.”

She pressed her lips
together. “I don't know, maybe.” She was lying.

“Did they find him?”

She looked confused. “No.
They don't know where he is.”

“He was in his room. He
was on the bed. We were sleeping.” The ridiculous calm in my voice didn't match
the stabbing pain in my heart.

“Okay.” She rubbed my leg
as we sat in silence.

I blinked slowly and then
I blinked again quickly, and she was gone and I was alone. I sat up sharply,
the room spinning.

The drugs were making
everything strange. I passed out, even when I didn't need to. I wasn't seeing
the whole picture. I wasn't in control.

I needed to get out of
here.

Vincent walked in,
offering a pathetic smile. He smelled good, reminding me of the way Jake
smelled. Tears filled my eyes. I closed them, sending streams of agony down my
cheeks.

He sat on the bed,
staying quiet for a moment, the one I needed to pull it together.

“It’s likely he’s alive.
Why take the body if he’s dead? Why not display it the way he did the others?”
He rested a hand on my knee. “It’s time to feel better, Lainey.”

I opened my eyes and
nodded. “I know.”

“Your doctor is doing
rounds now. You need to pull it together so he will release you. He’s going to
be here any second, and you need to be careful what you say. Everyone thinks
you’ll hurt yourself if you get let out.”

I scowled, offended by
that. “Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head.

“What the fu—”

“Lainey, how are you?”
The doctor walked in the door and saved me from my first real cuss word.

“I’m good.” I couldn’t
fight the look on my face. From behind the doctor, Vincent smiled wide,
hinting.

I sighed and nodded,
getting control of
myself and my angry look
. “I’m
worried about my—Jake. I’m worried he’s not okay.”

“Are you okay?” He sat on
the end of the bed and stared at me.

“No.
Of
course not.
Some psycho just took my boyfriend and chased me through a
house and then trapped me in a guardhouse while he did laps outside to torment
me. Would you be okay?”

Vincent closed his eyes
and sighed, but the doctor shook his head. “No. I would be angry and scared.
How are you feeling?”

“Angry. I’m not scared,
not here. Maybe I will be at home, but I’ll make my friends sleep over. Or make
my mom sleep with me.” The realization that I had been here for more than one
day, hit me hard. Ashton. Who was feeding and watering him, if Jake and I
weren’t there? Where was he going to the bathroom?

I forced a smile on my
lips. “I hope the police catch whoever it is, and I hope they spend the rest of
their life in jail.” That wasn't what I wished at all. I didn't want it to be
the police who caught him.

“You are angry.” The
doctor chuckled. He signed the clipboard in his hands. Vincent gave me a
disappointed look. His green eyes were filled with annoyance.

“I am releasing you,
Lainey. I think you’re the right amount of pissed off. I don't think you’re a
threat to yourself at all, but God help the person who chased you.”

“I’m not a threat. I hate
pain.”

He glanced at my ankle.
“Careful on the ankle then. It was a slight sprain. It’s still a bit swollen.
Ice it and rest it when you’re feeling any pain. I will give your mom a
prescription for some antianxiety meds and maybe some sleeping pills, just in
case.”

I wanted to say no, to
say that I didn’t need them. But I knew he would insist. Not that I would take
anything. Then I would just be a sitting duck.

“Your mom and dad are
just outside. I’ll let them know you’re good to go.” He nodded at the door and
waved at me. “I’m glad you’re okay, Lainey.”

“Thanks.”

Vincent gave me a look.
“You had me worried.”

“Me too.”

He turned and glanced
around. “I don't think this is the safest place for you right now. I think we
need to start thinking about security.” He nodded at the bag of clean clothes
on my bed. “Get dressed and I’ll be waiting with Lindsey and your family.” He
left the room, acting weird.

Lindsey was here and she didn't come in?
I tried not to dwell on
it as I climbed from the bed and winced my way to the clothes. I’d only gotten
out of bed to use the bathroom and brush my teeth so I didn't know how long I’d
been here. I assumed the drugs had the days blending nicely.

In the mirror I
accidentally caught a look of my face and recoiled at the sight. My eyes were
puffy like I’d been crying for weeks. My pale skin was almost see-through. I’d
visibly lost weight. And the dark bags under my eyes had me looking a little
heroine chic.

But in the mirror I saw
other things.

Cowardice.

Pathetic fear.

Selfishness.

Saving my own skin had
cost me the person who had meant the most to me.

I wished I saw fierceness
or a thirst for vengeance but the shame of leaving him behind was in my eyes.

Recalling it and the
feelings I felt, brought the terror right back for me.

I hadn’t looked for a way
to fight, only run.

My hands shook so I
clenched them as I walked out the door to my family.

Lindsey rushed me,
wrapping
herself
around me. She shook as she cried
into my shoulder. I didn't cry. I didn't feel like there was anything left.

When she pulled back she
wiped her eyes. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head. Her eyes
were filled with something, but I didn't know what.

My dad was next. He held
me tight and started walking to the front of Norwalk Hospital.

“We’ll go out the back
doors. Dan is waiting for us. There’s press out front.”

I glanced back at my mom
and by the look on her face realized they were keeping something from me.

The reason Lindsey hadn’t
come into the room, but hadn’t left the hospital either, was they were keeping
something from me and Lindsey knew I would see it on her.

When we got to the car,
Dan offered his most sympathetic smile. “Lainey.” He nodded.

“Hi, Dan.” I climbed in,
completely frightened of what else there was.
What could there be?

I sat in the dark limo,
glancing about the large space, nervous of what else might be in there with me.
It lasted the second it took for the others to climb in and it told me that I
would not be bouncing back from all of this. In fact, I realized I might end up
with Rachel’s mom over at Silver Hills.

When we were seated in
the back and Dan had started the car, everyone looked away. Down or up or at
their
nails.
Everyone except Vince.
He looked at me. He was the first one to speak too, “The entire house, maids,
cooks, drivers, the guard—everyone is gone from The Van der Walls’
house.”

I swallowed the lump his
words were building in my throat. “I don't understand.”

“His parents came home to
the police. Their entire house is a crime scene. The dog is missing. They found
blood in the main room and foyer belonging to the cook and Jake. But that's
it.”

“Where did they go?”

“We were hoping you might
have an answer.” He gave my father a look. “The police need your statement.”

“Oh. I mean, of course.
But I don't know anything. We went there to nap; I passed out hard. I haven’t
been sleeping.” My voice trailed off as the memories awoke. “My phone woke me
up, I think. We got a message in—” I paused and looked at Lindsey.

She shook her head
subtly. “They know we got the threats.”

“The killer sent a
picture of me and Jake sleeping. I thought it might be that his room was
bugged. Lindsey phoned and she was the one who mentioned the killer in the
room.”

“The photo looked like it
was at the correct downward angle for it to be taken by a person.”

Vincent reached over and
squeezed Lindsey’s hand as he nodded. “It did.”

“And then I realized the
killer was in the closet. I just had a feeling. Of course they wanted to watch
me get the message. This is all for fear, of course they wanted to see it. I
tried to wake up Jake, but he-he had n-n-no p-pulse.” My words started to get
harder to say as the sentences heaved from me, “He-he was cold. Not icy,
j-j-just cool.” I snorted a bit as I shook my head in small twitches. “I knew I
had to r-r-run. I didn't even think—I didn't even think to f-f-fight.”
Tears burst from my eyes as I closed them. I pulled my glasses off and covered
my face in shame.

“How would you have
fought, Lainey?” My mom pulled me into her. “How do you fight something like
that? You don't even know how to fight.”

“He would have fought for
me.” I sobbed, disgusted with myself.

“Jake was a big boy,” my
dad added.

My eyes popped open.
“What do you mean was? He is. He’s still alive. I can feel it.”

All of them lowered their
gaze. Not one of them shared my belief, except Vince. I slid my glasses on and
wiped my face.