Shadowface

Chapter 16

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

SUMMER

I step out of Lincoln’s office and can’t contain my heart rate, which spiked the moment I walked in, and escalated in those final seconds when I saw the monster in Lincoln’s eyes right before I left. I press my back up against the hallway just to breathe, slapping my hand over my mouth.

A couple of students walk by and stare at me curiously as they disappear into the shadowed hallway, leaving me alone with a psychopath in the psychology department of all places. Does this school not realize what he is? How has Lincoln been able to hide what’s inside him?

It’s him—I know it in my heart. Those near-translucent eyes came back. The same ones I saw at the rave. Watching. Waiting. Whispering. It invigorates me.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t there when I first walked in. It showed itself at the very end. The insidiousness was inside of Lincoln.

That memory, once lost and forgotten, now plays out in my mind. His creepy teenage gaze fixated on my body and he looked sad. I tried to smile at him but his eyes grew dark and heavy. All I could see was darkness inside his soul, pure evil. I refused to look at him the rest of dinner.

A prickling discomfort ran up my spine and I wished he would leave. The boy at the dinner table was Lincoln—they are the same person. His eyes flickered the same way.

M y dreams began the night he spent in our guest room. My father wasn’t helping an orphan; he invited in a monster.

I remember him so clearly now, and I’m kicking myself for not seeing it sooner. I can’t find anything about Lincoln Kennedy online, because Lincoln Kennedy doesn’t exist.

My heart rate slows, and I make my way down the darkened hall and take the stairwell down to the main floor. Even though his presence in this building is all-consuming, I need to get away from him. I need to regroup and think about my next move, especially if I want to stay alive.

I stop mid-step and sit down, my heart in my throat. My phone dings in my purse and I take it out, secretly hoping it’s him.

It’s Dani, wondering what the hell is taking me so long, and that she’ll wait another ten minutes before she’s going home.

I ignore it, my thoughts entirely consumed by the man in the ivory tower.

Lincoln was not at all what I was expecting. His cool indifference in class must be a mask, because the man I met was smart, kind, and seemed to know my inner thoughts. He’s even sexier up close, his skin pale and soft.

I can’t imagine he was the same awkward boy I met all those years ago, but there is no denying it. I’m so attracted to him, I could burst. Lincoln Kennedy is everything.

I close my eyes, remembering the rave. His soft hand when he held mine through the crowd, the way he took care of me, and the clear shift in him when he started cutting my clothes and burning my skin.

The references to we and him, like there are two of them inside his mind.

My scar starts to pulse, shifting from pain to desire. My phone buzzes again, pulling me from those dark thoughts.

Dani: Okay. Where the fuck are you? I saw Lincoln leave already, and I’m not leaving you with some psycho on the loose. Meet me now.

Once I’m out of the sandstone building, Dani and Misty are both waiting for me, leaning against a gargoyle statue, the sun low in the sky, giving off a doomsday glow.

Misty perks up when she sees me, her blonde hair peeking out of a wool hat. Dani frowns, and I can tell she is annoyed with me. The two of them seem inseparable lately. Their friendship is growing while I seem to be fading away—much too absorbed with studying with a certain someone while they are matching their outfits.

“So what did he say?” Misty asks, and Dani barely spares me a glance.

I keep walking past both of them, making them catch up to me. “He’s keeping my F, but he’s letting me make it up with a new essay.”

“Okay…that’s good, right?” Misty offers.

“It’s good,” I say dryly.

I make eye contact with Dani as she steps in beside me in her knee-high boots. She narrows her eyes. “You were in there for a long time. What were you doing?”

My teeth find my bottom lip. “We were just talking.”

“Ha. Yeah, whatever you say.”

My eyes flit up to hers, but I don’t say anything.

Dani continues, “Remember that rumor I was telling you about Lincoln? He makes girls?—”

My stomach swirls. “Makes girls, what?”

She licks her bottom lip, her eyes gleaming. “He makes them go on their knees.”

Misty’s eyes grow wide like saucers, and I cut her a glare. I’m acting guilty, so guilty. I pull my hair behind my ear as Misty stares at me curiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All we did was talk. If you’re insinuating I sucked off my TA to get a better grade, you can rest easy, Dani.”

Dani just smirks and crosses her arms. “You’re blushing, Summer, and I’ve only ever seen you blush once.”

I place my hand to my cheek and she’s right, it’s burning hot.

“I didn’t do that. All we did was talk, and he’s letting me make up my assignment. But thank you for thinking the best of me.”

Dani crosses her arms. “Okay, I believe you. But you’re hiding something from me, I know it.”

I roll my eyes, attempting to conceal the complex feelings I have for him, as well as my desperation for him.

We pass a group of security guards, and I’m reminded of the missing girl from a few towns over. A tight ball forms in my chest—jealousy tightening its grip on my heart, not the guilt I should be experiencing.

“He offered me extra help, too,” Misty says out of the blue. Both Dani and I whip our heads to her. “I’m going to visit him every week.”

She darts her gaze between the two of us as we head to Dani’s car in the dark parking lot.

I glare at her and bite the inside of my cheek until my jaw locks. “Did you go down on your knees? You were in there before I was,” I ask her, and Misty’s face fires red.

She shakes her head. “I would never do that, that would be unethical…but he was flirty with me, too.”

That word.

Ethics.

He made me recite every sentence of that chapter.

“He’s a nerd,” I mutter, pulling my seatbelt over my shoulder. “Why are we even talking about him?”

Dani grins and slides in next to me. “That nerd is really hot, Summer. I can’t see how a guy who looks like that is single. And if he was flirting with you, then you need to get me closer to Xander.”

“Well, ask Misty, then,” I say flippantly. “Apparently, she’s the one he likes.” I turn back and wink at her. She scowls, but I don’t miss the tears forming in her eyes.

It seems as though I have lost all sense of life within me. The words that fill my heart with bitterness are not my own. They can only be attributed to my nameless monster, and the years of him whispering in my ear while I was asleep. I have no other explanation.

We drive the rest of the way in silence. When we arrive home, Misty grabs her things, heads to her room, and slams the door.

I stand in our small kitchen, and I give Dani a what the fuck did I do look.

She merely frowns. “You haven’t exactly been warm to her.”

I place my head in my hands and lean over the barstool. “Well, I haven’t exactly felt like myself since my father died.”

This summer was the hardest of my life. When I left home, I also left the life my mom wanted for me and trounced around Europe. I was going through the motions. I had these images of what college was going to be like, that it would make me better. Coming here, following in my father’s footsteps, seemed like the right thing to do.

My time, though, has largely been spent in solitude, engrossed in books, and captivated by a psychopath with potentially duplicitous personalities. One who cursed me with the mark of death.

Dani looks sad, and I can tell she’s reflecting on her own father, who’s been away for years. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Dani grabs the kettle and starts boiling some water, placing tea bags in two cups. I’m relieved she’s not following Misty and ignoring me after my outburst. I miss talking to her.

She turns to face me as I slouch on the island. “I hope you can start to enjoy yourself soon, because it looks like you’re tearing yourself apart.” Her eyes drag up my body. “You’ve lost weight.”

I place my hands on my waist and graze my hip bone, and give her a weak smile. I hate fighting with Dani, and I hate lying to her even more.

Waiting for the water to boil, she scoots her butt on the edge of the counter and stares at me. “So tell me about your conversation with Lincoln. Was he really flirting with you?”

I bite my lip and can’t help but let out a small smile. “I don’t know if I’d call it flirting, but he gave me a vibe.”

Her eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. “A vibe? What kind of vibe?”

I lean forward, resting my chin on my hands, propping my elbows on the table. “He was kind of sweet. I maybe kind of get what girls see in him. We talked about my father.”

Her eyes are curious. “And you’ve never met him before?”

“My father kept his home and work life separate. I might have met him once, but that was a long time ago, and I was young.”

She stops in her tracks as if putting two and two together. “You don’t think… Is he the freak messaging you?”

My stomach drops. “I don’t know…probably not.”

She looks at me like she doesn’t believe me. “Has he messaged you since you told him to fuck off?”

The kettle whistles behind her as I think about what sweet lie will roll off my tongue next.

“No. I haven’t heard from him since that first week.”

Now, Summer. Tell her everything now. Do it for Cali, do it for all the people he might kill. Tell someone that you think your life is in danger.

Apparently, I have a death wish. Either that, or I’m extremely sexually frustrated because I say nothing.

“Good.” She turns her back to me and pours the hot water into each cup. “You probably scared him off. Tell me if he messages you again, though. Especially with everything going on and the missing girl and that creepy photo. I don’t want you to end up as a statistic or something.”

Emphasis on the or something …

I sigh, rise, and grab my tea. “I promise I’ll tell you. I’m sure it was nothing.”

I head upstairs to my attic bedroom and get ready for a really long night. My eyelids are heavy, and I lean back on my bed and rest my eyes for only a few minutes, ignoring the hot tea but enjoy its spicy aroma.

I snooze for a few minutes, then force myself to get to work. I pull out my textbook, sip on my lukewarm tea, and start working on my make-up assignment for Lincoln.

I read the words, try to understand the concepts, but they just don’t resonate. Not the way they did when Lincoln talked through the theories with me.

He made me understand them so I could comprehend them. I could feel them.

Eventually, I grab my computer, sit at my desk, and type in Lincoln Kennedy and Kinsmen University. All that pops up is his university profile, which I’ve already seen, and he’s like a ghost on his other socials.

So I take a different approach and type in Mikael Peters, but no one by the name Mikael Peters comes up as a student at this school. It’s like Mikael with his odd, spelled name, died along with his mother. Except he didn’t because my father brought him to my house years later.

I clench my jaw and bring up the journal site Lincoln showed me and type in his name. He’s in at least thirty published journals, every one of them co-authored by Dr. Garcia and my father.

Genetic mutations, brain abnormalities, inherited psychological traits, and emotional responses.

Nature, Summer. Nurture has nothing to do with it.

It’s like his only existence is around his research. As if nothing else matters.

I’m suddenly very curious as to what Lincoln’s doing his PhD on. What is his ultimate theory?

I type in my father’s name. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, but it was inevitable. Hundreds of search items pop up, dating back at least twenty years. Nearly all of them are co-authored with Dr. Garcia, until they abruptly stopped three months ago when he died.

I never really understood what my father studied, but I believe that matters now, given he was the world’s leading expert on fear.

Fear. Synonymous with death. Death equated with murder.

Four missing girls…hundreds before them. One of them staring up at him lovingly in a photo.

Serial killers instill fear. Shadowface instills fear.

I look at photos from the killings of 2002 and try to imagine each victim as a person, a girl like me. Each photo represents life lost at the hands of a monster. Needless deaths…unless?—

His own personal test subjects…

What is a better way to study fear than instilling it? How many did he need until he got what he wanted?

Was four enough, or were there more? Was Kimberly Peters a Shadowface victim, too?

Did my father savagely murder four women? He’s the only person smart enough to do it and get away with it.

My stomach convulses as the evidence starts to unfold. I saw something as a child and blocked it out. I saw him do something he shouldn’t have done. Something so heinous, it was easier for me to pretend it didn’t happen.

My father was Shadowface…I feel it in my heart.

I quickly press the back button and close the browser. I can’t look at that right now. The back of my head hits the headboard behind me. And the sickness in my stomach spreads into my veins as an icy breeze ruffles my curtains.

“What did you do to those girls, Daddy?” I whisper. Who was Mikael to you? Are Mikael and Lincoln the same person?

I place my computer down and close my eyes, ignoring the tears streaming down my face. It only takes me a minute to fall asleep, and as I drift off, I think of masked faces and tears of blood.

Warm feelings, love, acceptance.

The years my nameless monster spent manipulating my mind to crave death. And now…now when I think about him, he has an actual face.

Lincoln’s face.