Chapter 15 #2
“Sure,” he said, taking it. He’d never really read much outside of school, but from this room alone, he thought he probably should start. Otherwise how would he keep her attention? He tucked it close to his stomach. “Does the book say why?”
She gave him a half smile. “I should tell you to read it and find out, but there are lots of reasons. The big one seems to be that we’re much more likely to be the victims of violent crimes. Forewarned is forearmed, and all that.”
Rick frowned, an uneasy feeling sloshing through his gut. “That doesn’t seem to be the case here. Both Bryce and Mr. Stephens were male.”
Nika put her hands in her back pockets as she thought. “So far. There are women on the list, though.” Her brow pinched in worry. “I’ve been thinking. About the murders, I mean.”
“I think we all have,” Rick said. “But I bet your thoughts might actually help. Mine have mostly been ‘maybe we should just move.’ ”
Her lips curled into a smile, but it was weak and died quickly. “If Bryce didn’t overdose on purpose, and I don’t think he did, then someone gave him something. Pills, poison, who knows.”
“So what?” He couldn’t help picturing Bryce, dead in the Wildcat costume, and it made his question sharp. He softened his tone. “We don’t know how he died.”
“True, but pills and poisons—in fiction they’re usually women’s methods,” Nika said, unbothered by his sudden sharpness. “Read Agatha Christie sometime. You’ll see.”
“Just in fiction?”
“Reality is more complicated. Ninety percent of homicides are perpetrated by men—that’s from a United Nations global study, by the way—and men prefer guns.
” She straightened a few of the books that were tipped on the shelf.
“So when you look at it that way, no matter what weapon you choose, men use them more than women.”
“I’d like to be the kind of person who never has a weapon of choice.” That earned him a smirk.
Nika gave the books a final nudge. “But serial poisoners are more likely to be women, and if you’re any good at poisoning, you’re never caught. It’s an incomplete data set.”
Rick tapped a hand against his leg, trying to rid himself of a sudden stab of anxiety. “But maybe the killer only used them on Bryce so that his murder scene would match the yearbook. Maybe it’s less a weapon of choice than of necessity.”
Nika blew out a breath. “That’s a solid possibility, which is one reason I haven’t said anything. I also don’t think we should narrow our focus based on it anyway. It’s too soon.”
She looked so worried that Rick wanted to reach out and give her a hug. Comfort her in some way. Instead he hugged his borrowed book, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying.
Nika’s next words came out so soft, Rick had to lean to catch them. “I’m scared.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
“My dad’s working nights right now. Camryn is staying tonight so I’m not alone, but…” She grimaced, looking away.
“What about your mom?”
Nika’s mouth tightened as she gave her head a sharp shake. “Just me and my dad. My mom doesn’t factor in.”
The way she said it made Rick think that was a permanent setup and that he’d just inadvertently reopened a wound. “Aw, hell.” He set the book down on the table, stepped forward, and put his arms around Nika.
She stiffened, but only for a second. Then she burrowed into him, her hands clasping the shirt on his back in tight fists.
Her shoulders shook with quiet tears, and Rick’s heart broke.
He tucked her as tight as he could against him and rested his chin on the top of her head.
Then he let her cry. He didn’t try to say anything.
What was there to say? Sorry your mom is gone? Sorry someone wants to murder us both?
She had good reason to cry, so he let her.
Even if she hadn’t had a good reason, he would have let her.
Rick was starting to think that there wasn’t a single thing Nika could want or need that he’d say no to.
It was a little frightening, knowing someone had that power over you.
Not quite as frightening as knowing that someone wanted to—and could—murder you, though.
After a few minutes, Martina peeked into the room. They locked eyes, silently communicating the way some best friends can manage.
Martina gave him a thumbs-up and backed slowly out of the entryway.
When Nika was done crying, she sniffed and turned her head to the side but didn’t let go. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Rick didn’t let go, either.
Nika gave a wet laugh. “You’re my cry buddy, huh?”
She’d meant it as a joke, Rick knew, but he answered her seriously anyway. “Yeah. And, Nika?”
“Yes, Rick?”
“You get scared out here, call me. I can sleep on your couch just as well as I can at my uncle’s.”
Nika sniffed again and peered up at him. “Not sure my dad would be okay with that.”
“Probably not.” Rick wasn’t sure about that, though. Considering the situation and what little he knew of Nika’s father, he might be more amenable to bending the rules than she thought. “I can always leave before he gets home from his shift.”
“Can you stay tonight? Camryn will be here, but…”
“Whatever you need, Moose,” Rick said. “Let me text my uncle and drop Martina home. Then I’ll come back.”