Eight #3
Jude actually sounded… agitated. He never sounded agitated. He never lost his cool. He barely even let on he had feelings about anything. But Russo got under his skin somehow.
“You don’t like Russo?”
“No. I don’t like anyone who’d play games with your life,” he said.
His dark eyes flashed with something sharp.
He didn’t look like a calculating, bloodless scientist right then.
He looked more like a wolf, ready to defend his pack.
“Especially not some Gucci-wearing bro with skin-tight pants and no socks.”
“Sounds like you’re jealous of his drip.”
“Not jealous. I just know Russo’s type. He reminds me of every guy who ever bullied me in high school.”
“Who bullied you in high school?”
“Everyone, when Oscar wasn’t around. I was the only blerd in school.”
“Blerd?” I asked, confused.
“Black nerd?” Jude spelled out.
That did explain why he wore all those Naruto anime shirts back then.
But looking at the full-grown man in front of me, it was hard to remember the skinny, rail-thin little kid with the oversized glasses who used to rattle off dialogue from episodes.
“You saved me once,” he said.
“I did?” No memory of that whatsoever.
“I was nine. I think you’d just turned six? This group of jerks was playing street hockey right before I got to your house to play Xbox with your brother. They were taunting me. You were up in a crab apple tree.”
“That tracks. I loved climbing trees as a kid. Mostly to hide from my mother trying to feed me burnt biscuits.”
“You saw what was happening and you got mad. You threw crab apples at them until they ran off. You hit one right in the forehead.”
“I did?”
“Yep. Then Oscar came outside to see what the racket was all about, and they ran off.”
“So technically, Oscar saved you, not me.”
“You did, though.” Jude looked at me as though this meant something to him. Odd that I didn’t have any memory of it. Most of my memories of Jude started about the same time as my girlhood crush.
“Is that why you didn’t let Oscar sneak mushrooms into my mac and cheese?”
“Exactly.” Jude studied me with his puppy-dog eyes. “You’ve always been tough. I bet you’ll catch this killer.”
“Russo is a better detective than me, though.”
“Actually, I think you can catch the killer all on your own. I think you would’ve done it the first go-round if you’d had more time, you feel me?”
I realized that since my fall from grace, this was the first time someone—anyone—had told me that I was capable of catching this asshole.
It was the first time someone really said they believed in me and not the trolls.
The high-pitched drone of fear that had been plaguing me since I saw that first taunting message receded just a little.
“Thousands of trolls and Jared Gatta’s attorney disagree with you.”
Jude cocked his head to one side. “If you weren’t so close, then why did the Canceled Killer follow you here?”
I shrugged.
“Because you’re a threat. That’s why. He still sees you as a threat. Even if you don’t. That’s the strongest evidence there is that you’re a damn good detective.”
I’d never thought of that before. I just assumed the Canceled Killer liked toying with me, but what if I had gotten under his skin? What if he was as scared of me as I was of him? I felt surprisingly buoyed by Jude’s words.
“Well. Thanks.” I tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear. I was always terrible at taking compliments. They always felt awkward and unwieldy, like shoes two sizes too big.
“I mean it. Your podcast… the way you put things together, even I didn’t make the connections until you drew the picture.”
“Are you admitting I’m as smart as you are?” I teased.
Jude just laughed. “About all the things that matter? You’ve always been smarter.”
The flattery felt like a punch. Since when did Jude think I was smart? Really smart? He wasn’t just patting my head and being condescending either. He meant it.
Jude’s phone pinged with an incoming text. He frowned at it.
“Kenzie says her dad is missing.”
“What?” I felt cold dread seep into my gut.
“She says he didn’t come home last night and didn’t show for a company meeting this morning.” Jude looked at me, and I could tell we were both thinking the same thing. I pulled out my phone and looked on Gordon’s social media accounts again. I looked at the time stamp of the skull emojis.
“Usually the Canceled Killer strikes three days after he posts.” I did some quick calculations and realized that it wasn’t yet three days. “The killer’s early.”
Also, if the killer really was stalking Lake Sanguis and really had taken Allen Gordon, that meant… I might be next. I felt cold, icy fear slink down my spine.
Ready or not…
Jude’s phone pinged again. “She wants to talk about it.” He glanced up at me. “She asked if you’d come, too.”
I hesitated. Russo wouldn’t like it. But then again, Russo left me here so he could investigate the case solo. Why couldn’t I do the same? I was tired of playing defense. It was time for some offense.
“Let’s go talk to Kenzie,” I said.