The Dead List (30 page)

Seriously unlikely.

I knew it couldn’t be Gavin. That would be like thinking it was Jensen. There was no way you could grow up with someone and not know they were hiding the fact they were a serial killer.

At least I hoped so.

So who did that leave? Brock? It just didn’t make sense for it to be him unless it had nothing to do with Penn or it was some kind of guilt driving him, but I had a strong feeling that this all somehow tied back to Penn.

When we were halfway through season three of Supernatural, Mom ran out to the grocery store to pick up something for dinner and Jensen shifted. Somehow I ended up under him.

“What are you doing?” I folded my hands together under my chest, attempting to behave.

Resting his weight on the arm beside my head, he arched a brow at me. “You haven’t been paying attention to the TV at all.”

He was too damn observant sometimes. “Yes, I have.”

“Uh-huh. Your body literally has been tight as a bow this entire time. I’m afraid you’re going to snap in half. Talk to me.”

My eyes met his and I sighed. “Why do you have to be so observant?”

“I’m just that skilled.”

A grin pulled at my lips and then disappeared. “I think we need to warn Mason.”

Jensen didn’t respond.

“I know you don’t think it has anything to do with Penn. Maybe it doesn’t,” I said. “But I’d feel better if we warned Mason. Maybe even Brock.”

He sat up, pulling me into a sitting position along with him. “And it would make you feel better to… to warn them?”

Brushing the hair out of my face, I nodded. “It would.”

“Okay.” He smacked his hands down on his knees. “Okay. We can do it tomorrow at school. I can get Mason at—”

I jumped at the sudden shrill ring of the house phone traveling from the kitchen. Jensen groaned. “It’s probably someone from one of the news stations.”

They’d been calling all weekend, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they were camped out in front of my house. Teenagers getting attacked and murdered was big news. I got that, even understood the attention, but I didn’t understand what the reporters thought I could say to them. The police had informed me quite bluntly to keep my mouth shut and not talk to them. Not that I had any desire to mug it up for the camera.

Frowning, I stood and hurried into the kitchen, expecting it to be yet another reporter than had gotten a hold of our home phone number. The damn thing never rang before all of this happened.

Picking up the receiver, I cleared my throat. “Hello?”

Silence greeted me.

“Hello?” I turned, spying Jensen standing in the doorway. I shrugged when I raised my brows. “Anybody there? Look, if this is a reporter, I don’t have anything to say. Nothing at all.”

Jensen frowned. “Just hang up.”

Sounded like a good plan. I started to move the phone away from my ear when I heard it—a graveling whisper, barely audible over the sudden rush of static that raised the tiny hairs on my arms.

“
Murderer
…”

Ice drenched my veins as I froze. “What?”

The click of the call disconnecting was like a gunshot in my ear. I stood there, eyes wide as Jensen crossed the distance between us. He took the phone out of my suddenly limp fingers.

“Hello?” He scowled as he lowered the phone. “No one is there. Did someone say something?”

“I don’t know.” I wrapped my arms around me. “I thought I heard someone say ‘murderer.’”

A cold mask of anger slipped over Jensen’s face as he glanced down at the phone. He hit a button. “It says unknown caller. The number is probably blocked.”

“I don’t know if I even heard it correctly.” I left the kitchen, brushing past Jensen. Stopping at the window, I parted the blinds. Like before, I couldn’t see the street, but I wondered if the police were out there.

Murderer
.

I shivered as Jensen came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You’re not—” he started.

“I know.” And I really did. All those years of carrying so much heavy guilt now seemed so pointless, and I wasn’t going to let someone else dump that on me again.

#

School on Monday morning sucked more than it normally did. It had rained all the way to school, and the halls of the building felt unnaturally cold, unwelcoming.

Unwelcoming except for the crisis unit that seemed to be permanently parked in the school, which meant I spent most of third period meeting with grief counselors.

A whole lot of awkward abounded.

Cops were crawling over the school, both local and federal, and there were no more quick glimpses of them. There was no mistaking their presence. Media was camped outside, interviewing any student that got within grabbing distance of them. The attention, the whole atmosphere was surreal.

After eating a quick lunch with Jensen and Heidi, I waited out in the hallway while Jensen finagled Mason away from the ever dwindling table he sat at. Brock was noticeably absent, something that had my stomach twisting.

Was he skipping school?

Or had he gone missing?

I leaned against the wall beside the trophy case, wondering at what point in my life did I go from worrying if a kid didn’t show up for class if that meant something had happened to them?

Jensen rounded the corner, walking beside a surprisingly mellow looking Mason. His blond hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, hands shoved deep into his ripped up jeans.

He saw me and frowned. “What’s up?”

I straightened, glancing at Jensen, who thrust a hand through his hair. I started to just put it out there, but it was Jensen who spoke.

“Where’s Brock?” he asked.

Mason shrugged. “I don’t know. Haven’t heard from him since Saturday. He was worried about the shit that happened with Linds and what the police thought. He’s probably hiding out at home.”

I seriously hoped so. “What happened with Linds…I think you have to be careful.”

He looked at me, and then his gaze flipped to Jensen. “I have to be careful?”

“Yes.” I nodded just in case he didn’t understand the one word or something. Taking a deep breath, I decided to just get it over with. “Remember Penn?”

Mason’s brows flew up. “That nerdy little kid that offed himself a few years back?”

My hands curled into fists. “His name was Penn—”

“Yeah, I remember.” Mason glanced behind him quickly, into the cafeteria. “What about him?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but everyone, with the exception of Linds, who has been attacked, had something to do with Penn.”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets, brushing a strand of hair back from his face. “Yeah, like who?”

“Like Vee, Wendy, and Monica all picked on Penn.” Jensen folded his arms. “So did Brock, and so did you.”

A confused smile appeared on Mason’s face as he glanced back and forth at us. “So?”

My brows rose. How many brain cells did this boy burn on a regular basis? “So? What we’re trying to say is we think the killer is going after people who picked on Penn. That means you and Brock… wherever he is… could be in danger.”

Mason opened his mouth, looked at Jensen, who arched a brow at him, and then looked back at me. He laughed. “Are you fucking crazy?”

Jensen spun so quickly he was a blur. Slamming his hands into Mason’s shoulders, he pushed him into the wall. “You might want to rethink that statement.”

My eyes widened. “Jensen!”

“What?” Mason raised his hands. “That’s completely—”

His hands curled into the front of Mason’s shirt. “I’m serious. Think very carefully about what you say.”

“All I’m saying is that who thinks about that Penn kid?” Blood leeched from Mason’s face. “No one does anymore.”

No one thinks about Penn anymore? God, the well of sadness that opened up in my chest was almost too much. I grabbed Jensen’s arm because it really looked like he was about to punch Mason.

“Come on,” I said, shaking my head, done with this.

Jensen slowly let go of Mason, and as he turned, dropping his arm around my shoulders, his eyes glittered.

Mason pushed off the wall and backed off. “Look, I’m not trying to be ignorant. Just Penn? That’s crazy.”

“Shut up, Mason.” Then to me, Jensen asked, “You okay?”

I nodded. I did what I felt I needed to do, and I didn’t care if he thought I was a lunatic. I warned Mason, and now it was up to him to take it seriously. I really hoped he didn’t have to.

#

After the somewhat disastrous and somewhat embarrassing attempt at warning Mason, the school day ended with no more drama llama visitations, and Jensen and I headed to my house.

“I don’t regret saying something,” I said as he pulled down the street.

He glanced at me. “Well, I regret not punching him in the face.”

My lips twitched. “Sorry. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I’m sure I’ll get another opportunity,” he muttered, squinting at the windshield.

I let out a low breath as we pulled to a stop in front of my house, behind my lonesome Jetta. Mom wasn’t home yet, wouldn’t be for several hours. When he turned off the engine, I didn’t move. At least there were no reporters hiding in the bushes.

“Do you think he’s got Brock or…?” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Jensen sat back, clenching the keys in his hand. “Or Brock made a run for it because the police are on to him?”

I nodded.

“I don’t know, but if it is him?” Jensen shook his head. “Besides the fact that is so messed up in so many different ways that I can’t even think about it right now, it might be a good thing. Because if it is him and he’s hit the road, then you’re safe.”

“So are you.”

He tilted his head to the side. “I’m not worried about me.”

I frowned. “You should be. We all should be worried.”

“I’m too worried about you to really give it a thought.”

“While that’s sweet and all, I kind of want to punch you in the face.”

Jensen laughed. “Wow.”

“I don’t want you to do something careless and put yourself in danger.” I stretched over and kissed his cheek. “And I really don’t want to punch you in face, but if you do something dumb and get hurt, I’m going to, and you taught me how to punch. So it’ll hurt. Okay?”

He chuckled again. “Okay. You ready to head in?”

“Yep.” I reached back and grabbed my book bag. “You hungry?”

“Always.”

Climbing out, I waited for him to join me, and then we hurried down the walkway. The dark, fat clouds looked ready to burst at any given second. “I think we have some leftover pizza from last night.”

“Perfect.”

I took another step, and a fat drop of cold rain landed on my nose. “Crap.”

Halfway to the porch, we broke into a run, but we weren’t quick enough. The clouds ripped open and chilly rain poured down on us, soaking my shirt by the time we reached shelter.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, slopping my wet hair out of my face. “That is cold.”

“Cold?” His gaze was below my neck. “I really don’t feel cold at all.”

My gaze followed his and my cheeks heated. I slapped his chest. “You’re such a dog.”

Shoving his hair back from his forehead, he grinned. “You love me.”

The air caught in my throat as my gaze locked with his.
You love me.
The rightness of those three words were shattering, the truth undeniable. I loved Jensen. I had loved Jensen for years. That was no big surprise, but I was
in
love with him.

His grin started to fade. “What are you staring at? Can you see my nipples through my shirt? I doubt mine are as—”

“No.” I flushed, turning away as I dug my keys out of my bag. “I’m not staring at anything.”

“Yes, you were.”

I rolled my eyes as I shoved the key in.

Jensen stepped right up behind me, pressing his fingertips lightly on my hips. “Then what were you thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”

His breath was warm against my neck. “You’re such a terrible liar.”

Opening the door, I escaped inside, putting space between us. “You’re terribly annoying.”

Jensen laughed as I dropped my bag inside. “Where are you going?”

I stopped at the base of the stairs. “I’m going to go get changed.” And recollect my scattered, overly emotional thoughts. I knew Jensen cared about me. Deeply. But love? He hadn’t said that and we hadn’t been dating for long.

But we’d known each other for forever.

His lashes lowered, giving his eyes a heavy look. “Need help?”

I started to tell him no, but my heart leapt and parts of my body coiled tightly. I wet my suddenly dry lips. I really needed to say no. “Sure.”

Oh God…

Jensen blinked once and then twice. “Hot damn.”

Laughing loudly, I whirled around and headed up the stairs. The laugh… God, it had felt good. That moment of feeling free; I clung to it, but when I reached the landing and turned to see Jensen a step below me, I swallowed hard.

“You know.” His voice was deeper than normal. “The shirt is going to have to go first. It’s soaked.”

My hands opened and closed at my sides. “It is.”

“Glad we’re on the same page with that.” His eyes were fastened on mine as he came up the last step, stopping in front of me. “Need help?”

It was like someone else was in control of my body. I nodded.

He hesitated for a moment. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice, and I didn’t understand what he was thanking me for. But, then he brushed my wet hair back from my shoulders. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve thought about this?”

My throat dried and I shook my head.

Jensen didn’t follow up on that statement as he slipped his hands under the hem of my wet shirt. As he lifted it up over my head, my heart felt like it stopped beating in my chest. He made a deep sound in the back of his throat as he draped my shirt over the railing.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe normally so I didn’t end up passing out or something, because that would surely be a mood killer. But it was hard. I was standing before him in my jeans and bra, and I knew the latter, being as damp as it was, showed more than it probably covered.

“You’re beautiful.”