Winter (Four Seasons #1) (14 page)

My voice
cracks when I speak, broken from sleep. “Hey.”

He starts and
almost drops his phone, giving me a half smile. “Hey
yourself.”

“
Sorry about
earlier.” I drag my hands back through my hair—God, what must I
look like?—and sit forward, stretching out stiff joints. Luke
stoops down and collects a takeaway coffee cup, which he then hands
to me.

“
It’s okay.
You were polite compared to some of the crap I get at work, trust
me. Drink this, it should still be warm.”

I take a swig
and smile a little when I taste how sweet it is; Luke has sat and
watched me empty sachet after sachet of sugar into my drinks during
our many coffee catch ups back in Break. It’s nice that he
remembered. “Thanks, Luke. Thanks for being here.”

He nods,
scratches at the back of his neck. His eyes have that soulful look
to them that always makes me think he needs protecting from the
world. I have no idea why, when he’s the one protecting everyone
else for living, but that’s what I’ve always thought.

“
Just
finished?” I whisper.

“
No, it’s
nearly ten.”

“
What?” I
can’t believe I managed to pass out for so long. “Has the nurse
been by again?”

Luke nods,
leaning back in his chair so his shoulder touches mine. “Yeah. No
change. They’re going to try waking her up soon,
though.”

I draw in a
shaky breath and clench my fists. “Do you see this happen to many
people?”

“
A few,” he
sighs, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“
And what
usually happens? Do they…do most of them make it?”

Luke dips his
head into his hood, staring at his hands. “Some of them
do.”

Some of
them
. I blow out a strangled breath and
bury my face into my hands. “This can’t be happening. This
seriously
can’t be
happening.” Luke doesn’t lie and tell me everything is going to be
okay, because there’s a real chance it isn’t going to be okay. Lies
aren’t going to change that. He places his hand on my back, and the
physical contact loans me enough strength to pull myself together.
When I uncover my face, he leaves his hand there and I don’t say
anything because I need him right then. “So are you going to tell
me about those symbols?” I murmur, chewing on my
thumbnail.

“
They were
left on the bodies of the murder victims,” he says in a hushed
voice. “There were only three symbols for a long time, but toward
the end the fourth one appeared. That information was never
released to the public. I wanted to see if they were familiar to
you. Killers are usually looking for recognition when they start
out murdering. If your dad…” I suck in a breath. Luke pauses, but
only for a second. “If your dad was responsible, he probably would
have had these drawn out somewhere.”

“
Why? Why
would he…wouldn’t the killer have hidden it so he wouldn’t get
caught?”

Luke twists
the drawstring from his hood through his fingers, tapping his foot
against the scuffed linoleum floor. “No, not really. Serial killers
usually want to get caught. Typically they’re proud of their
handiwork. They want to claim responsibility in the
end.”

“
Proud?” I
can’t breathe. My dad would never have been proud of intentionally
hurting anyone, let alone
murdering
them.

“
I know, it’s
sick. But these people usually are. Sick, I mean.”

That’s a
given. A caustic remark is on the tip of my tongue, but when I turn
to look at Luke, the nurse from before is walking down the
corridor. A pair of glasses perch on the end of her nose now, and
the rings under her eyes are even more pronounced. The statue-like
people around us realize she is approaching at the same time, and
everyone turns to face her. It’s like watching a speeded up version
of flowers opening to the sun, as fifteen or so hopeful faces
gravitate towards her. She walks past them, crushing them each in
turn as she makes her way over to me and Luke.

“
Morgan’s
awake,” she says bluntly, her shoes squeaking as she pulls up in
front of us. Those are the most amazing two words I’ve ever heard
in my life. A tidal wave of relief crashes over me and I slump
forward, drawing in a ragged breath. Luke’s hand finds mine. “You
still won’t be able to see her for another couple of hours until
we’ve got her stats leveled out a bit, but she’s going to be fine.
No sign of brain trauma, no internal damage. She’s one lucky girl.
We’re going to need to discuss rehab for Miss Kepler once she’s
feeling up to it, but—”

“
Rehab?” The
nurse is stoic when I meet her gaze. She’s obviously had to tell
people this before. “Morgan doesn’t need rehab. She was
spiked.”

“
It’s standard
procedure for us to ask some questions when OD patients come in,
kid. And from her responses and the notes we have on file for her,
Morgan requires medical attention.”

“
What? No way!
I’m her friend. I’d know if she were doing drugs.”

The nurse
plants her hands on her hips and gives Luke the kind of look that
suggests she’d like a little help. “I can’t discuss the content of
Miss Kepler’s interview with you, but I will say this: drug users
hide their addictions well. They get good at concealing things, and
they get good at lying. You should talk to your friend, Miss
Patterson.” She stalks away and vanishes through a set of double
doors at the far end of the corridor, and I watch her back the
whole way until she’s gone.

“
Morgan
doesn’t need rehab,” I say, clenching my fists.

Luke doesn’t
look at me. He swigs his coffee and sighs. I’m on the verge of
repeating myself when the elevator doors
ding
open and a man and a woman with
panicked expressions burst into the corridor. I know in an instant
they’re Morgan’s parents; the woman’s auburn hair is a dead
giveaway. Luke starts to stand but I hold my hand out. I definitely
don’t want to be the one to tell them about their daughter, but
they deserve to hear the news from someone who knows her. I can at
least do that.

Twelve

Addict

TURNS OUT I
don’t know Morgan as well as I’d thought. Her parents aren’t
shocked when I tell them she OD’d, and they don’t believe for a
second that she was spiked. Morgan has landed herself in hospital
twice before through drugs. TWICE. She’s struggled with cocaine and
pills since her senior year, and her mom and dad packed her off to
Seabrook House in New Jersey for three months. They only let her
come away to college this far out of state because she maintains
regular appointments with her doctors there, and they apparently
know what kind of behavior to watch out for.

Well, her
doctors can’t have been doing their job. And I haven’t been the
only one keeping secrets. The difference is Morgan knows all of
mine, or most of them anyway, and I’ve trusted her. She hasn’t
trusted me.

Luke drives me
back to Columbia after Mr. and Mrs. Kepler start shouting at the
already harassed nurse in the ICU; there’s no way I wanted to go in
and see Morgan while her parents were there and her mom was crying
so hard. I’ll go back later during visiting hours. Mad isn’t even
close to describing how angry I am at Morgan, but she still needs a
friend right now. When she’s out of hospital and capable of
standing on her own two feet, that’s when I’ll tear her a new
one.

“
I’d offer to
go grab you some breakfast,” Luke says as he unclips his seatbelt,
“but I had a hell of a shift and I’m gonna pass out any second now.
Can you come by my apartment later? I’m sure there’s some things
you’d like to look at.”

I swivel in my
seat. “So you’ve got it? You’ve really got the Wyoming Ripper
file?”

Luke gives me
a small nod. “It’s a copy, obviously. My old partner, Chloe, she
scanned everything and emailed it through for me. I…I could get
into some serious fucking trouble if I showed it to you, Avery. So
could she.”

“
You’ve
got
to show me, Luke. I
have to know! I have to—”

“
Okay, okay,”
he says, placing a hand on my knee. “I figured as much, but you can
never,
never
tell
anyone, all right? I don’t wanna get ass raped by all the people
I’ve put in prison because you let this slip.”

“
I would
never. I swear.” Luke seems content, if a little uneasy with my
promise. Reality suddenly hits me—the file that could condemn my
father as a serial killer is within Luke’s possession. Can I do it?
Can I really open up that file and rifle through it? I guess I
don’t really have a choice. “It won’t be able to come by until
later. Is that okay?”

Luke reaches
across and unfastens my seatbelt, his knee pressing up against
mine. I shift uncomfortably and stare at him. He seems engrossed by
the way I’ve gripped my hands tight in my lap. His forehead creases
a little when he looks up at me. “No problem. I’m off for the next
three days so it doesn’t matter what time. Call me, though. I don’t
want you travelling across the city after dark, Beautiful. I’d
prefer to come and get you if it’s late.”

******

“
What the hell
were you thinking, Morgan?” Her skin is even paler than usual, her
eyes are bloodshot. She’s so weak she can barely sit up without
help, and even then it seems like a lot of work.

“
It’s not like
I did this on purpose,” she croaks.

“
Didn’t you?”
Mrs. Kepler snaps, stuffing her used tissue up the sleeve of her
cardigan. Why people do that I can never work out. It’s so gross.
“People are beginning to wonder if this was a cry for help, Morgan.
The doctors have already explained that to us. Addicts use these
events as a way of getting attention.”

“
I don’t need
help, Mom!” Morgan yells, suddenly more awake than she was a second
ago.

“
Oh yes you
do, young lady. And you’re going to get it. You’re going back to
Seabrook. My daughter is not going to end up dead in some
seedy—”

“
I can’t go
back to Seabrook, I have school!”

“
And what use
is school to a dead person, Morgan Marie? If you’re dead, then it
won’t matter whether you graduated college or not. You’re only a
freshman. You can go back to Columbia next year when you’re fit and
healthy.”

The look on
Morgan’s face is distraught. I want to comfort her but that would
feel weird with her mom staring at me like I’m intruding on a
private family moment. I probably am. I twist the leather strap of
my purse nervously and make to get up.

“
Don’t leave,
Ave, please. Mom, can you give us a little while to
talk?”

Mrs. Kepler’s
severe expression deepens. “I’m not letting you out of my sight,
kiddo. Who knows what you’ll get up to while I’m gone. If this is
the only way you’ll—”

“
Mom!
”

“
No, Morgan.
I’m sorry. You can’t be trusted.”

Morgan’s face
turns bright red, something I’d never seen before. She bunches up
her bed sheet in her fists and squeezes, her whole body locked
tight. “Mom. Get the fuck out of my room right now. I want to talk
to my friend. You can come back in when she leaves.”

Mrs. Kepler
flinches back. Her lower lip wobbles like she might burst into
tears. I feel sorry for the poor woman; she must be worried out of
her mind. She gets to her feet and slings her woolen trench coat
over her arm, trying to appear unflustered. Her eyes are wet with
tears when she looks at me. “I want to thank you for waiting here
all of last night, Miss. Patterson, but I also want you to know
that I don’t trust you. I don’t trust any of Morgan’s friends,
seeing as it’s likely one of you gave her that dirty pill. In the
future I won’t be leaving Morgan’s side, and if you want to come
and visit her again, I’m going to have to ask that you don’t bring
a bag with you into the room.”

She swings
around and slams the door behind her as she storms out, blowing
over a get well soon card that must have come from someone on
campus. My jaw hangs open. Morgan’s mom just accused me of
potentially supplying her drug addicted daughter with pills. I feel
like laughing, it’s that absurd. Me!

Morgan cringes
and falls back against her pillows. “I’m sorry. That
was—”

“
Totally
okay,” I tell her. “She’s worried about you.”

“
She’s always
blowing things out of proportion.”

I give a hard
laugh and get up out of my chair so I can sit on her bed. It’s all
I can do not to grab hold of her and shake her hard. “She’s not
blowing anything out of proportion. You nearly died. Are you gonna
tell me what the hell you were doing at that party and why you
were
taking drugs
?”

Her eyes drop
to the bed, avoiding mine. She looks like a naughty five year old
who’s been scolded for no reason. That’s enough to make the anger
I’m fighting to control flare up brightly in my chest. “Seriously,
Morgan. Tell me, because I am shit outta clues as to why you’d do
something like this. How many did you even take?”