Chapter 19. Tessa
Tessa
“Third time’s a charm,” I say as we set the clock back once again. This time we do it in the entranceway, making our best guess at when Tilly and Carl got in their fight. We arrive a few minutes early, which is good because I need to sit on the steps for a minute to process what we witnessed.
We didn’t stay to watch ourselves take our final breaths, but I’d seen enough. It’s one thing to know you’re dead. It’s another thing entirely to watch it happen. A shiver sweeps down my spine, followed by a growing ball of fury in the pit of my stomach over Carl kicking me loose from his leg.
“I can’t believe we didn’t suspect the guy called Creepy Carl. We are absolute shit detectives.” Reed slumps onto the step beside me.
The scientist in me hesitates. “We can’t say it’s definitively him. We need proof.”
“Oh, come on, his behavior was so sus. Did you see the way his eyes kept shifting, like he wanted to watch but didn’t want to be seen with us? Was he mad we told him to leave earlier? I mean, what the actual fuck? Is that any reason to murder someone?”
“I thought he left the party. We saw him go.” I gesture toward the front door.
“Clearly he did not.”
Right on cue, Tilly races into the foyer with Carl on her heels. Reed and I hop up for a better look.
“What are you doing here?” she asks under her breath as some students from the chess club wander by.
Carl pulls Tilly’s hobo bag out from behind his back and thrusts it at her. “You’re sick. Let me get you out of here.”
“Why do you have my stuff, Carl?” She narrows her eyes, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “And how did you know I’m feeling crappy?”
He shrugs. “I saw you leaning against the wall looking like you might pass out.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere with you.” She turns, a little wobbly on her feet.
“Why not? You think you’re too good for me?” He grabs her wrist. “Let me take care of you.” I feel so helpless watching him put his pervy hands on her. Was he calling and texting her, and I didn’t know? Why didn’t she tell me?
“Carl, this needs to stop. We broke up months ago. I don’t want to be with anyone right now.” She pulls out of his grasp. “Stay away from me.” Some heads turn at her raised voice.
Carl’s arm shoots against the wall, blocking her path. “You want this, you know you do. Come over and I’ll remind you how much you used to like me.”
“No. How many times do I have to say it?” Tilly shoves past him, her eyes filling with angry tears.
“You’re sick and don’t know what you’re saying. I’m getting you out of here.” He tugs her arm, pulling her up short.
It’s in this moment the other Tessa races downstairs to step between them. “What’s going on?”
“This doesn’t concern you, Tessa.” Carl shoves the other me aside and starts dragging Tilly toward the door.
“Carl, what part of ‘It’s over’ don’t you understand?” Tilly shouts. More people have gathered, including Reed and Santiago, who push their way through the crowd. I hadn’t noticed before, but Reed’s eyes burn with stone-cold fury.
“I am trying … to … help you.” Carl bites out every word.
“Get off her!” Then-Tessa tugs his arms.
“You heard her, asshole. Back off.” Reed from the party glares at Carl as he steps between us.
Santiago steps forward, too, arms crossed, looking just as menacing. “I don’t think you’re wanted here.” I’d forgotten how much the two of them had shown up for Tilly in that moment.
“Go.” Waves of anger roll off the old me.
The other Reed pulls the door open and waits, facing off with Carl in the entranceway. It’s such an intense standoff that at any second, I half expect a tumbleweed to blow past or one of them to suggest drawing pistols at dawn.
When Tilly flips Carl off, the look he gives her is so full of longing and hatred, the hairs rise on my arms. Santiago subtly positions his body between them. From this angle I can see his hand slide protectively in front of Tilly, resting gently on her arm, though he doesn’t turn around.
Carl tracks it, too, eyes flashing, but scenting defeat, he pivots down the porch steps. “Whatever. I was trying to do you a favor, bitch.”
“Yeah, keep walking!” Tilly shouts as he skulks down the garden path.
“And that’s our cue.” I nod for Reed to follow.
When Carl reaches the gate, he turns around.
Whatever he sees makes him howl, spit flying.
I glance behind me to find us all lit in the doorframe.
But there’s a moment I didn’t notice before.
Santiago’s reached for Tilly’s shaking hands, their eyes locked as he whispers something reassuring to her.
It’s a moment of kindness. But Carl doesn’t see it that way.
“Slut,” he hisses, stomping out the gate.
We always assumed he’d left the party, but he lingers, kicking some gravel on the road, sending the pieces skittering into the rock wall surrounding the estate.
He swears and paces twenty feet away from the entrance.
I catch occasional phrases like “two-faced liar” and “screwing someone behind my back.” A few people gathered on the street side-eye him.
Carl pulls out his phone. At first, I assume he’s calling someone to pick him up, but then I recognize the pissed-off voice coming through the speaker.
“I mean it, Carl, leave me alone.”
“You told me you weren’t interested in anyone, you lying slut.”
“I’m blocking your number.” Tilly hangs up.
“FUUUUUUUUUCK!” He violently throws his phone on the ground.
Some partiers eye him carefully as they get out of their car. “You okay, bro?” one asks.
“Bitch just made me break my phone.”
They shoot him a weird look and hurry past.
“Nobody talks to me like that.” He retrieves his cell from the pavement—the screen now cracked—before marching back to the party, muttering to himself.
“I was going to help nurse you back to health, but now … you sneak around behind my back.” He shakes his head.
“You’re gonna regret not coming home with me. ”
Reed and I share a worried glance and take off after him.
“Why is he so fixated on taking her home?” I ask.
“It’s weird, right?”
My blood runs cold. “Do you think he did something to her, before he came after us?” Oh God, did he poison Tilly first? Roofie her? Did he get to her earlier in the night?
“We know if he did come after her first, she survived it.”
Waves of anger roll off Carl as he marches toward the house. Everyone he passes keeps their distance.
My mind struggles to understand the scope of what he’s done. “Maybe he didn’t want to kill her. Maybe he only wanted to harm her, so he could sweep in and be the hero. ‘Take her home.’ ‘Nurse her back to health,’ he said. What if this was all part of some sick plot to win her back?”
Reed’s eyes go wide. “Didn’t he say something at one point about doing her a favor? Only it didn’t work.”
“Or it worked, but not enough.” Shit. How have I missed all these signs?
I was so focused on Reed and myself, I didn’t see all the terrible trouble Tills was in.
What kind of friend does that make me? “She told me she felt queasy earlier in the night. I thought she was upset over running into him, but maybe it was something more. Though, how did he slip it to her?” I come to a halt, smacking my hand against my forehead.
“Her water. She’s never without her water bottle. ”
“So, he roofied her water or something, but maybe he got the dose wrong, or she didn’t drink it all.”
It’s already taken me forever to find my bag. “Tilly told me she’d lost track of her bag at the party. He’d have had a chance then.”
We race after Carl, who’s now paused on the porch like he’s considering whether to reenter.
Maybe he’s nervous about getting into a fight with Santiago and Reed, but for whatever reason he avoids the front door.
Instead, takes off around the house. But when Carl swings past the greenhouse with its partially caved-in windows and overgrown vegetation, he backtracks, peering inside.
In the low light, it’s hard to see what’s caught his eye.
Carl fumbles with his phone but can’t get it to power on, so he returns it to his back pocket.
“Hey,” he shouts at a group of sophomore girls.
“I think I dropped my phone in here earlier. Can I use one of your cell flashlights for a minute?” A petite brunette I recognize from the yearbook committee hands hers over.
Carl sweeps the light past the greenhouse ruins, pausing for a long time on a berry bush.
“Did you find it?” she asks.
“Nah. But … thanks.” He makes sure the girls are out of sight before stepping through one of the broken windows, then picks a handful of plump berries off the closest bush and pockets them.
Out of his boot he draws a Swiss Army knife, flipping the blade open.
I grab Reed’s arm, wondering if Carl is about to go on some kind of stabbing rampage, but instead he pulls the berry bush up from the soil and shaves some of the root off into his hand.
He pockets the shavings, along with the knife.
“We tried this the harmless way, but screw that.” He gingerly steps past the busted glass, heading to the house.
“Do you know what that plant is?” Reed asks as we jog after Carl.
“No. But I’d bet it has toxic levels of tropane alkaloids, like the autopsy report said.”
We follow Carl into the kitchen where he proceeds to make some kind of artisanal cocktail.
First, he steeps the roots in vodka. Then he muddles the berries in a Solo cup.
It figures the guy would have some bougie recipe even when he’s plotting murder.
At last, he pulls the roots out and mixes the mashed berries with the vodka.
“Why the roots?” Reed asks.
“They probably contain heavier doses of the toxins.”
“How did Tilly end up with him?”