SAY YOU LOVE ME (Eva Rae Thomas Mystery Book 4) Page 5

  She opened her eyes and looked at the two of them.

  “She said that when she addressed Jack, when she tried to talk to him about his behavior, he began to cry.”

  “And what else?”

  “And he said that he was scared he would get in trouble at home for this.”

  “What were his exact words?” Rivers said.

  “His exact words were … my dad is probably going to beat me.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I met Lauren and Chris in the media room, where Principal Green had brought them. I had sent Sydney back to the car so she wouldn’t be recognized. She was wearing sunglasses and her black wig as a disguise, but I wasn’t sure the young kids would be as easily fooled as the principal.

  Lauren was a tall, skinny girl with brown hair and green eyes. She seemed nervous as she sat down and looked around. Chris was a small guy who was using crutches. He smiled at me pleasantly, then explained to me that he suffered from a hereditary disorder called Cutis Laxa and that it was okay to stare; he was used to it. He knew he looked peculiar.

  “Adam was one of those that didn’t see it. He saw me for who I was inside, without these stupid sticks,” he said and came toward me, leaning on the crutches. “He could even joke about it and tell me I was just faking it, that I didn’t even need them, but I refused to walk on my own because I was so lazy. He never treated me like everyone else does, like I was fragile and could break any second.”

  Chris went silent for a second. I sat down on a couch in a small reading corner. They both followed me.

  “Tell me about Adam,” I said and looked at Chris. “You were close?”

  “He was … is my best friend. I keep reminding myself that he’s not dead, but then again, if he wakes up, we’ll probably never see him.” Chris stopped himself with an exhale. It was obviously hard to talk about him.

  “I feel like I should have stopped him,” Lauren said. “Like I could have stopped him somehow.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “That’s exactly how I feel too,” Chris said. “That I should have seen it, seen what was going on with him somehow. Maybe I could have said something to stop him?”

  “I saw the gun in his hand,” Lauren said. “When he pulled it out. I could have said something. I could have stopped him. Maybe even when I saw him earlier in the morning, I could have said something to make him feel better. That’s what I keep thinking in my mind. Over and over again.”

  “But now that they say he also killed Allyson,” Chris said. “Then maybe he had just lost it, you know? He kidnapped her first and then killed her. He wasn’t well.”

  “Why didn’t we see it?” Lauren said, tears welling in her eyes. “We were his friends. We were the ones closest to him.”

  “You can’t do that to yourself,” I said. “You can’t blame yourself for this. Adam made the choice to bring the gun to school. There was nothing you could have said or done to stop him. But did you sense any change in his behavior leading up to the shooting? Did anything happen in his life that might have caused him to snap?”

  Chris and Lauren looked at one another, then shook their heads almost simultaneously.

  “Adam was … a happy kid,” Chris said. “He was always fun to be around. We’d go fishing and goof around together. He knows a guy who has a boat we can borrow from time to time. Those are some of my favorite memories with him. I didn’t notice anything change in him; did you, Lauren?”

  She looked at me pensively. “No. I can’t think of anything.”

  “When did you talk to him last?” I asked.

  “I saw him in the hallway on the morning before the shooting, but we didn’t talk. He seemed lost in his thoughts, and I was late for class. So, it has to be on the day when Allyson disappeared,” she said. “It was on a Saturday. He texted me and asked me if I wanted to go to the beach with him and Allyson. I told him I had to do my project for French class, so I didn’t have time. He said they’d stay there all day and maybe make a bonfire at night. From what I heard, it turned into a party with lots of other kids from school.”

  “Were either of you at the party?” I asked.

  They both shook their heads. Chris pointed at his crutches. “Doesn’t really go well with sand. Unless someone carries me, I usually stay away from the beach.”

  “Of course.”

  “I didn’t have time to go,” Lauren said, “but from what I heard from others, Allyson never came home. The other kids told me she and Adam walked home together. The police later came to Adam’s house, but he wasn’t there. He came home early in the morning, and the police interrogated him about her disappearance, but they didn’t arrest him. As far as I’ve heard, he told them that he had dropped Allyson off at her house and that he then walked back home. But he doesn’t live that far from her, and everyone wondered what he was doing in those hours. Still, no one ever thought he could have hurt Allyson. But we didn’t think he’d show up at the school and try to kill us all either.”

  Lauren paused to gather herself. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she was fiddling with her student ID card between her fingers.

  “We have to make sure they are visible at all times now,” she said. “So, no one from the outside can come into the school. No one dares even to go close to the cafeteria. Just a car that backfires on the street outside makes people jump inside the classrooms. We’re constantly on the lookout, constantly suspicious of one another, ready to report even the smallest change in behavior. They’ve made a hotline for us to report suspicious behavior anonymously. It’s Hell. I still just can’t find it in my heart to understand how someone like Adam could lose it like that. I thought I knew him. I’ve known him since Kindergarten. How did I not see this?”

  Chris reached over and grabbed Lauren’s hand in his. “We both thought we knew him, but we didn’t.”

  “I just don’t get it. I just don’t,” Lauren said, tears dripping onto her ripped black jeans. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  “Did he have any suicidal thoughts?” I asked. “In the weeks leading up to it?”

  She shook her head. “No. He never said anything about wanting to kill himself. He was always happy, you know? Always trying to make the rest of us happier too, always goofing around.”

  “Often, depressed people try to seem like the happiest,” Chris said.

  “But he loved Allyson,” Lauren said. “It makes no sense to kill her. I just don’t get it.”

  “None of us do. I mean the guy didn’t even like guns. He hated them, and I don’t understand how he got ahold of an AK-47,” Chris said and looked into my eyes. He seemed confused, frustrated even. I sensed he too doubted Adam’s guilt deep down. He was struggling with it because common sense told him it was foolish. He had seen Adam with the gun; he had heard the shots and felt the fear in his chest.

  “Tell me about the morning in the cafeteria,” I said addressed to Lauren.

  “I was eating my lunch, wondering where he was,” she said with a sob, “when the door opened, and he stepped inside. I was so happy because I thought he’d come sit with us, but then I saw it; I saw the gun, and next thing I knew, he lifted it, closed his eyes, and began to shoot.”

  I leaned forward. “He did what?”

  “He began to shoot,” she repeated.

  “No, the thing you said before that. You said he closed his eyes?”

  She sniffled and nodded. “Yes. That’s the last thing I remember. Next thing, I’m screaming because Adam is on the floor, shot by Officer Conroy. It all went by really fast.”

  “But you say he closed his eyes before he started to shoot?” I asked. “You’re certain of that?”

  She thought it over for a second, then nodded.

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “He closed his eyes. Can you believe it?”

  I was speaking with my mouth full. Sydney and I had driven to downtown Fernandina Beach and found a place with v
iews over the Intracoastal waters where they served fish burgers.

  “I mean that doesn’t sound like someone who wanted to kill a lot of people, does it? If you want to kill people, you look at where you shoot. That’s pretty basic. It sounds more like he was scared.”

  “It also explains why he didn’t hit anyone if he didn’t aim,” she said and grabbed a fry. She looked at it, turning it in the light. “You know I actually used to eat really healthy. Lots of greens and smoothies keeping myself slim and my skin radiant. Since you came back into my life, I’ve been eating so unhealthily; I’m not sure I’ll ever get another movie … looking like this.”

  “Ah, come on, you look amazing,” I said and took another bite of my burger, grinning. “Just admit that you like it.”

  “I’m afraid I do,” she said and ate the fry, then reached for another one. “So, what are you saying with all this?”

  “I don’t know,” I said and stopped chewing. “But something is off. Adam didn’t bring that gun to kill people; that’s for sure.”

  “Could he have regretted his intentions in the last minute? Been unable to follow through with it after all?”

  “That’s one theory,” I said and sipped my Coke. “But there’s also the thing about him not fitting the profile of a school shooter at all. No suicidal thoughts, no obsession with guns, no mental health concerns, no signs of depression, or even anxiety. There was no identifiable crisis in the weeks or months leading up to the shooting.”

  “We don’t know if he had a crisis with Allyson,” Sydney said. “She might have broken up with him that night when he walked her home, and after that, he could have snapped.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “That’s true. But usually, it takes time to plan for this type of event. They don’t just wake up one morning and decide to do it. It is known that most school shooters have studied the actions of other shooters and sought validation for their motives. There was no fascination with mass shootings. I’ve gone through his Internet history on his computer and social media. There’s nothing there to indicate he was obsessed with other school shooters, and he didn’t frequent online fora that talked about these things like most other school shooters have. That’s the thing about school shootings; they tend to come in clusters. They are socially contagious. Perpetrators study other perpetrators and model their acts after other shootings. And they usually do it online in their search for validation from others that their will to murder is justified. They are often suicidal and decide that life is no longer worth living and that murdering others would be a proper way to go, and at the same time get their revenge and become famous, be somebody. Often, their crisis is well known to their friends and family before they perform their act. You often hear people say afterward, I knew something was wrong, that something was off, but I didn’t do anything. These kids and his parents all say it was a total surprise. They still struggle to believe he really did it, even though they saw him pull out the gun. And you want to know why? Because he never intended to shoot anyone. He came in, lifted the gun and closed his eyes, then shot right under the ceiling until someone stopped him like he knew they would. I want to know why he did what he did. I think our brother is a victim here, and it’s related to Allyson’s murder. I just have no idea how to prove it.”

  “It sounds like crazy talk,” my sister said and finished her burger with a satisfied sigh. For years, she hadn’t been able to eat food like this, and even though I envied her for her good looks and complexion, I could never live the way she did.

  “It is crazy talk,” I said. “But there is something here; I just know there is. And I intend to get to the bottom of this, no matter what.”

  Sydney smiled. “I love a good crazy talk, especially when it comes from you. Count me in.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Hush now, baby; don’t you worry about a thing. Momma is here.”

  E.T. crawled closer to her body and put her arm around him, spooning in the bed. He was supposed to sleep, but couldn’t find rest. His arm was still hurting from where he had cut himself. The skin was swollen where the knife had gone through the skin. The four letters stared back at him, reminding him forever never to forget:

  LOVE

  E.T. ran a finger across the cuts while humming to himself. He thought about Eva Rae Thomas and fantasized about her. At first, it had scared him a little that she had shown up in town, especially when he found out who she was and that she was known to have taken down some of the biggest murderers in the history of the country. But then he felt kind of flattered.

  Had she come here for him? To chase him?

  The more he thought about it, the more he realized that she was only going to make everything so much more spectacular. Her chasing him could end up making headlines like it had down in Miami. He would be famous. He’d finally be a somebody. They’d talk about him with awe and shake their heads in fear like they did when talking about the Iron Fist. People would fear him. They’d shiver when mentioning his name. Others would be inspired by him. They’d study him and his methods for years, then try and do the same. Books might be written about him, maybe even one by Eva Rae Thomas herself? Like the ones he had found online that she had written about the worst serial killers, those that were so gruesome that they made your skin crawl.

  Just like those.

  E.T. wanted to be just like them. Just as big. And Eva Rae Thomas could definitely help him achieve that goal.

  Yes, her coming to the island did speak to his advantage. To be honest, he couldn’t have scripted it better himself. It would be like in those cartoons where the cat chased the mouse, but never got him. She would force him to be the best — or worst, depending on how you looked at it — version of himself that he could be. She would force him to push himself to new heights, to go where no one else dared to go.

  He was in the big leagues now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “It does sound like crazy talk to me, to be honest, Eva Rae.”

  Matt stared at his screen. He was sitting at his desk in an almost empty room at the station. He was only halfway done with his report while everyone else had left for the day.

  He had been on call last night when a drunk tourist had decided he had enough and beat up his wife right outside of Coconuts on the Beach. Other tourists had taken photos as evidence and called for CBPD. They had arrived just in time as the perpetrator decided to make a run for it, and they had chased him down. He had spent the night in a cell, and Matt and his colleagues had spent the entire day interviewing witnesses and the man himself. The wife was in the hospital and would have to stay there for a few days, they said, to recover from her bruises and a concussion. Her eyes were swollen, and her lips cracked. She was visibly shaken up and scared when Matt spoke to her earlier.

  Of course, it wasn’t the first time her husband had done this. Hopefully, it would be the last.

  Matt felt good about taking him in and nailing him for what he did. There was nothing worse in this world than a wife-beater in Matt’s opinion. They were the scum of the earth. No, worse. They were the parasites that lived on the scum.

  As he was in the middle of writing his report on the incident, Eva Rae had called him. Hearing her voice was just what he needed right now, and he had listened carefully as she had told him all about her day and how she had looked into her brother’s case and how she believed her father might be right after all, that maybe Adam was innocent. Maybe something else was going on.

  “Hey, you were the one who told me to look at it,” she said. “Don’t you tell me it sounds crazy. I know perfectly well how it sounds, but that’s not gonna stop me from taking a closer look.”

  “I know,” he answered. “I know that very well, indeed. So, how are you going to approach it?”

  “I don’t know yet, or … well … that’s not entirely true. I do have one idea,” she said, then stopped.

  He imagined her biting her lip like she often did when she was pensive.

  Go
sh, I miss you, Eva Rae. Why are we always apart?

  “Of course, you do.”

  “But it involves you,” she said cautiously. “It involves you doing something for me. Do you think you can do that?”

  He leaned back in his office chair with an exhale. Was that the only reason she had called him? Because she needed his help? It had been like this a lot lately, that he felt like she was always too busy for him or always too occupied with some case to be with him, to have time for him. Every time he went to her house, there were always so many people that she barely had time for him. There was always a kid who needed something or her mother or her sister who needed her. Or Chad would be there because of the kids, always butting into their conversation or getting in Matt’s way.

  When was there going to be time for them to be a couple?

  I need you too, Eva Rae.

  “All right,” he said. “You know I can’t say no to you. What is it?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  They were screaming in the hotel lobby.

  “We did it. I can’t believe we did it!”

  George Reed put his arms around Liam Bell, his partner through the past fifteen years. When he let go, he had tears in his eyes … tears of happiness.

  “Can you believe it, old buddy? We finally did it. We’ve dreamed about this for how long? Five years? Ten years? Heck, I don’t even remember anymore. But now, we’ve finally done it.”

  “It is truly amazing,” Liam said. “I can hardly believe it. I mean, is this really happening? Did we just do this? Am I dreaming?”

  “If you are, my friend, then please don’t wake me up,” George laughed.

  George kept his arms around Liam’s neck as he looked at the others in their group. They had all been with the company for years; they too, had fought to make this happen. They too were smiling, their eyes moist, while patting each other’s backs.