Chapter 15
Rick parked the Beast in front of Nika’s house, taking a moment to examine it while Martina double-checked the address.
Once they knew they were in the right place, they got out and headed to the front door.
Nika lived in a cozy duplex in a cul-de-sac of identical duplexes.
It was gray with white trim, and while it was in good order, little to no effort had been made to make it look anything beyond what it was—a cookie-cutter home in a neighborhood of other cookie-cutter homes.
A few other houses had Halloween decorations up or had added planters, but Nika’s house looked like they’d only just moved in.
“I always wonder why people paint their houses gray in western Washington,” Martina said as they walked up the front path. “Like we don’t see enough gray? Seasonal depression is basically handed out here like candy. Why add?”
“I guess I’ve never thought about that.” Rick eyed Nika’s house. “It’s better than my house, though.”
Martina hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, baby poo was an interesting color palette choice.”
Rick looked at his friend. “And so many people were involved. I mean, someone had to originally make that color. Then someone approved it. Then someone had to sell it. There was a long line of people going, ‘Why, yes, baby poo is the look we want this season.’ ”
“Out of context, that sounds really weird,” Nika said.
Rick’s head snapped forward to see her with her front door open, her head tilted quizzically. “I’m not sure context exists that would make it not weird.”
“We were talking about house paint,” Martina said cheerfully, probably because Rick was turning red with embarrassment as he tried to turtle into his own hoodie.
“We didn’t see you there,” Rick mumbled.
Nika examined her own house, her mouth pursed.
“Yeah, gray is pretty boring, I guess. My dad hates it, but the paint is in good shape, so he thinks it would be a waste of money to change the color.” She laughed.
“Besides, he works so much that most home improvement ideas don’t get beyond the discussion stage. ”
She waved them in. “Come on. Shoes off at the door—house rules.”
As Rick toed off his sneakers, he noticed that Nika’s feet were bare. He’d never seen her feet before. It seemed oddly intimate. She’d painted her toenails a light purple.
Martina jabbed him with her elbow.
He waited until Nika had turned and was walking down a carpeted hallway before he whispered, “What?”
“You were staring at her feet. It was getting weird.”
Rick didn’t think he could blush any harder, but it turned out he could. “It’s just…they’re cute,” he finished awkwardly.
Martina drew her head back, a disturbed expression on her face. “Is this a thing for you? Do you have a foot fetish?”
“No,” he said, his tone sharp. “Don’t even say that shit. That’s how rumors start. I do not have a fetish.”
“It would be okay if you did.” She placed a hand over her chest. “The heart wants what the heart wants, Rick, and as fetishes go, it’s pretty harmless.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Why am I friends with you?”
“Because you love me,” Martina said, pulling her arm through his and dragging him along the hall. “And you couldn’t live without me.”
Rick didn’t argue, because they both knew it was true, so instead he took his chance to look around Nika’s place. The walls were white, probably the same color they were when they moved in, but a few paintings were hung, along with pictures of people Rick didn’t know.
The hallway coughed them out into a tidy living room with a couch, easy chair, and coffee table taking up a lot of the space.
A few brightly colored pillows were stacked next to the couch, two of which were already full—Camryn and Zara were using them to sit around the coffee table.
They had their laptops out and notebooks.
A TV perched on a short, wide bookcase that was jam-packed with paperbacks of all kinds.
A few small plants sat next to the TV, and Rick had a feeling those were Nika’s doing.
He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. A set of sliding doors presumably led to a backyard or a porch, but right now Rick could only see darkness through the glass.
Camryn popped a chip into her mouth, making Zara snort. “You’re just in time,” she said. “Camryn was about to eat all the chips.”
“My body has needs, Zara,” Camryn drawled. “And those needs are sodium and powdery cheese substitute.”
Nika rolled her eyes. “And this is why I got a second bag of chips.” She turned to Rick and Martina. “Drinks?”
They joined the rest of the group at the table while Nika brought them sodas. Despite the couch being open, Martina and Rick ended up sitting on the floor with the other two, while Nika curled into the easy chair with her laptop.
“I’m so glad you’re not Paxton,” Zara said. “I have reached my limit.”
“He said he was busy, same with Alexis and Landon.” Camryn ate another chip. “I still can’t believe you dated Paxton freshman year.”
Zara glowered at her. “We promised to never speak of that. I can’t believe I fell for his bullshit for even a minute.”
“I remember him being less of a dickbag in middle school,” Martina said as she popped her soda open. “Or maybe I just didn’t pay much attention to him.”
“I think he definitely got worse,” Zara said. “Or at least he stopped hiding it.”
Nika sipped her soda thoughtfully, her gaze a million miles away. “I guess I never really thought about how intertwined we all are.”
Rick leaned in to grab a chip. “Small town. It’s unavoidable, I guess.”
“Speaking of which,” Zara said, shifting on her pillow, “I tried to get Kylie Mason to join our group again. She flipped me off, so I gave up.”
Camryn shrugged. “Can’t make her do what she clearly has no interest in doing.”
Nika tapped her fingers on her thigh. “Camryn’s right. We’ll just have to move on without her. Okay, so we stopped by Allison’s house and talked to her mom.” She gave them a quick summary of the encounter while Zara took notes on her laptop.
“Okay, well, that’s something,” Zara said. “Hopefully we’ll hear from her soon. Anyone else dig up information about Bryce?”
“Well, Mrs. Porter seemed to be a no-go.” Camryn dug around in the bowl for another chip. “She barely knew Mr. Stephens and seemed to honestly like Bryce in a ‘lovable rogue’ kind of way.”
“Bryce drove me nuts on the regular,” Martina said, sipping her drink, “but most people felt like Mrs. Porter did, and I can’t really see him doing anything someone would actually kill you for.
He was annoying but not awful. He didn’t really hurt anyone.
” She frowned. “I don’t even know where to start with Mr. Stephens. ”
“Yeah.” Rick leaned forward, putting his elbows on the coffee table. “I guess it’s a lot easier to sort out what we’re up to—everyone at school talks, but it’s like the adults are in their own sphere. We talk about them, but, like, we don’t talk about them.”
Zara stared at him, her brow furrowed. “I have no idea what you just said.”
Rick turned to Martina, assuming she would chime in and translate for him as she usually did, but Nika beat her to the punch.
“He means we talk about them as to how they relate to us—who’s mean, who gives out easy A’s, who’s a hard-ass—but we don’t really talk about them as people.”
“Wait, they’re people?” Camryn deadpanned.
Martina reached over and stole a chip from the bowl. “I get it. Like, I used to think Mr. Johnson was a pretty normal dude, but then I saw him running in the park one day with those shoes that go around your toes.”
Zara shuddered. “I had him for math last year. He’s also into historical reenactments. He is not a normal dude.”
“I’m not sure you can make the kind of choices you need to make that lead to you being a high school math teacher and be a normal dude,” Camryn said.
“Is that all teachers,” Rick asked, “or just math teachers?”
Camryn considered this, but only for a moment. “All teachers, I think. I’ve met high school students. No way are you getting me to do that job with those people for that pay.”
Nika settled deeper into her easy chair and adjusted her laptop. “Let’s focus on what we can dig up on Mr. Stephens, then, since we know so little about him and he was the first victim.”
“Okay,” Zara said, concentrating on her screen. “Let’s see what we can find. Text people you know. Dig up some dirt. I’ll see what I can discover online.”
An hour later, the only thing Rick had figured out was that he didn’t know very many people well enough to text them random questions and that sitting on the floor had made his legs fall asleep, even with the pillow.
He excused himself to use the bathroom and stretch.
He turned the wrong way out of the bathroom and ended up in the dining room.
Or at least the room with a table and four chairs in it.
The table had a large puzzle spread out, mostly covering it, so Rick didn’t think they were eating in here frequently.
The walls were lined with bookcases. Rick had never seen so many outside of a library or bookstore before.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and glanced at a few of the titles. There seemed to be a little bit of everything, some biographies, some fiction, and true crime. There was an entire shelf just about poisons and their history.
“I went on a true crime kick,” Nika said.
Rick only just stopped himself from jumping. He wondered how long she’d been standing in the entryway watching.
He waved a hand at the poison shelf. “This is very concerning.”
Nika walked toward him, her feet making almost no sound in the carpet. “Lots of women are into true crime.” She tapped a book called Savage Appetites. “This book is all about that. Why women are so fascinated.” She pulled out the book and handed it to him. “Want to borrow it?”