“Well, I can't—” Mr. Murphy begins again, a bit of sweat beading on his brow. “I can't talk about your sister, but I suppose if you wanted to just sit and chat for a moment …”
“I do.” Ranger steps up next to Mr. Murphy, and we all watch as they head inside, and he carefully draws the shades and locks the door behind them.
“We didn't just send him in there to get killed, did we?” Micah asks, leaning back against the lockers.
“Not so blatantly, no,” Church says, and then pauses as Nathan makes his way back down the hall. This time, the night watchman simply moves past us without a word, Church's amber eyes tracking his movements.
The rest of us wait quietly while Spencer digs around in his bookbag and pulls out a box with a new phone inside, powering it on and setting it up while we stand there.
It doesn't occur to me to be concerned about anything until I feel his eyes boring into me.
“What?” I ask, and he grins at me like a shark that's just smelled blood in the water. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, Chucklet,” Spencer says, and then he moves over, captures my chin in his fingers and kisses the ever-living hell out of me. There's something different about this kiss, less vicious, more … tender. There's some of that same tenderness in it that I saw in his face that day in the hall. I shove him back and he laughs, flashing me his phone screen and all those embarrassing messages I sent when I thought he was dead.
I think we could've fallen in love is just one example.
My face goes white, and I sputter as he chuckles and reads down the list, but then the door opens and Ranger steps out. His jaw is tight, his eyes like flint.
“Let's go,” he barks, taking off down the hall in his combat boots. He doesn't stop until we're standing in front of the boys' dormitory.
“What's wrong?” Church asks as Ranger turns around, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a purple Sharpie.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.“A purple Sharpie doesn't exactly pinpoint Mr. Murphy as the killer,” Tobias says the next morning, sitting on the J. Woodruff memorial bench outside the girls' dorm. I haven't been here in a while, and I miss it. This is, like, my place. But right now, with all this shit going on? I'd have to be fucking crazy to come here by myself.
“No, but it's something,” Ranger says, playing with the pen. “It was just sitting there on the edge of his desk, like he'd used it recently.”
“This is far-reaching as fuck,” Spencer says, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Mr. Murphy isn't a killer. Do you remember freshman year when he rescued a baby deer and nursed it back to health? That's like fucking Mother Theresa type shit.”
“The ink on the notes is purple; the pen is purple. There's a picture of Jenica snuggling up to this asshole, and when Chuck confronted him, he lost his fucking shit.” Ranger pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up. “We need to get into his office. I think Chuck should try the teacher's lounge thing, nab us some keys.”
“If he did write the notes, do you think he'd really leave the pen just sitting there on his desk when you waltzed in?” Spencer asks, but I notice that Church is unbelievably quiet, buried deep in thought. He's staring up at the girls' dorm with a contemplative expression. “How stupid would he have to be?”
“I still think we should keep an eye on him,” Micah grumbles, putting his chin in his hand. His eyes find mine, and I feel this shiver go through me. When he kissed me on the hood of his car, I felt something. It's confusing as hell.
I like Spencer.
I … really like Spencer.
But I also like the twins.
“Add him to the list,” Tobias says with a sigh, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “Mr. Johansen, Mr. Cruschek, Jeff Rabot, Nathan, Eddie, Mr. Murphy. Fuck, why don't we just get surveillance on the whole school?”
“I tried, but the school board blocked my request for a private security team,” Church says finally, glancing over at us. “We'll have to work this ourselves for a while. I'm still leaning toward the boys' club angle.”
“And yet that doesn't explain Eugene's death,” Ranger retorts, spiking up his inky hair with his hand. His fingernails are painted black, and even though back home, I probably would've made fun of him for that … I sort of like it now.
I bite my lower lip.
“Unless Eugene was just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Like maybe he saw something he shouldn't have?”
Church glances my way.
“Why not just bribe him some other way?” he asks, and I shrug my shoulders.
