Chapter 26
Piper
Present Day
“Now what?”
We’re sitting at the Starbucks bordering Main Street, Josh drinking his latte while I’ve just spent one of Quill’s twenty-dollar bills on a peppermint white chocolate mocha.
It feels kind of silly to have spent so much money on a drink, especially since I’ve decided I won’t be using the Amex card anymore, since it’s probably making it even easier for Quill to stalk me.
That means I have to make do with the pile of bills he left me. Eighty dollars. And I’ve just spent 7.35 dollars of it.
Josh doesn’t know my reputation yet. I don’t want to be poor Piper Day to him. I want to be normal. A normal person with a normal friend who does normal things.
Like hunt for her parents’ murderer.
Okay, maybe that isn’t fully normal, but you wouldn’t know it by the way Josh is currently writing, pencil and notepad in hand, between gulps of his coffee.
“So, the facts we’ve gathered so far are: your parents are dead.” He actually scribbles that sentence down and adds a little bullet point to the left of it. “Someone killed them while you were in the shower. You’re very unpopular in Astley.”
If it were anyone else turning this traumatic event into a Blues Clues investigation, I’d probably punch them in the face. But I know Josh doesn’t mean to be unfeeling. He’s just so excited to actually be trying to solve a mystery that he keeps forgetting it’s my mystery. My very painful mystery.
I have no desire to remind him of that right now, because all I want is to detach myself from it all and follow him into Blues Clues land instead.
“What’s wrong?” he asks suddenly.
Uhm. Where do I even start?
But he’s staring at my leg, currently bouncing up and down frantically, my heel pushing up against the chair.
“Oh,” I say, trying to calm my jitters. “I’m not used to caffeine.”
It’s true. I’ve never felt the need to drink coffee or Red Bull or any other drink for energy. I’m already energetic as it is. Sometimes it feels like my mind can barely keep up with my tongue. And my mind itself is already so overactive it’s a wonder I can even sleep at night.
Now, my leg is jumping in a nervous rhythm that has a lot more to do with the mocha in my veins than with everything that’s happening.
Typical Piper to get nervous from coffee instead of, well, whoever’s out to kill me.
And Quill is nowhere to be seen. Shouldn’t he have realized by now I’ve escaped?
Shouldn’t he have found me? He knows everything about me.
He probably spends his time watching me.
So why is he leaving me alone? Is he in trouble with the Devil soldiers?
Or has he decided to stop caring about what happens to me?
Okay, maybe my thoughts are contributing to my jittery body. But the caffeine is definitely not helping.
Josh raises an eyebrow. “That drink is like, straight sugar. Is there any caffeine in it at all?”
“I guess so. You know, I can’t even have Coke. The beverage kind, I mean. I don’t even want to know how I’d act if I had the other kind.”
My teeth are chattering as I keep blathering on, and Josh suddenly removes his sweater and puts it around me.
I’m terribly aware of how unlike Quill’s hoodie it is.
Josh is wearing one of those awful wool things that look like something a grandpa would wear, but he’s sweet.
Everything about him is sweet and endearing.
The truth is, Quill’s right. Those two girls at college weren’t real friends.
I haven’t heard from them once since I left for Christmas Break.
And I never even thought to tell them about my parents’ death.
Josh is the first person I’ve actually felt was my friend, and I vow to never take him for granted. Even when Quill’s oppressive presence is in the room, making me forget about everything but him.
“It’s got to be eighty degrees in this place,” says Josh, dabbing at his forehead with an exaggerated air, but it’s true that the Starbucks cafe is really hot.
But I’m still cold, my limbs shaking because of the coffee, my stomach twisting because of Quill.
“Go ahead and keep the sweater if you’re cold,” adds Josh, before turning back to his notepad. “Anyway, we were saying. You’re very unpopular in Astley.”
“Right,” I confirm, knowing he’s not trying to be mean. Just wanting to get all the facts written down neatly in his little notebook.
“That means a lot of people might want to kill you.”
“Right,” I say again, confirming that uncomfortable thought.
“But they didn’t kill you. Just your parents. Which points to whoever did it caring just enough about you to spare you, but not enough to spare your parents.”
“Right,” I say a third time, the nerves in my stomach picking up.
“All of that points to Quill Nelson, your ex-asshole of a boyfriend. Who it seems has a lot of complicated feelings about you post-relationship.”
If you only knew…
“He paid for your hotel suite,” says Josh, continuing to jot things down in neat bullet points. “And gave you a credit card and a stack of bills. Did he try to give any explanation to that, by the way?”
“Nope.”
I really am an idiot, because I could have spent some of my time with Quill trying to get clues instead of… begging my bully for sex like the world’s biggest idiot.
“Right.” It’s Josh’s turn to utter that word while frowning. “I guess you were terrified of him.”
Sure. I bite down on a denial as he continues.
“Anyway, we also know that he told you to stay away from Devil Tower.”
I nod, having given him that morsel of information, without, of course, breathing a word about what Quill was doing to me while he was threatening me.
“This means,” hypothesizes Josh, “that Devil is likely involved. And so are its soldiers who go around killing people for them.”
I nod again, my legs bouncing a mile a minute, but I still down the rest of my mocha frappucino.
“Officer Jones was on your case before suddenly telling you it was a murder-suicide or suicide pact. But then he died, presumably killed in the same way your parents were, but it was covered up, just like your parents’ death was—his colleagues called it a suicide.”
My legs stop bouncing for a moment as I massage my head. It feels like it hurts from trying to assimilate all these random, apparently interconnected-but-not-quite clues.
“I can always guess the endings of my books,” I huff out. “I feel like the answer is right there, and if this were a novel, I could easily guess at it. But right now…”
My voice trails off hopelessly.
“We don’t know if any of this stuff is really connected,” nods Josh in agreement, “but it sure feels like it. So let’s just say for a moment it is. Why did Quill Nelson pay for your hotel?”
“To protect me.”
The words are out before I even think them, and I blush painfully as Josh raises an eyebrow in surprise. But then he jots down my sentence in a bullet point.
“From what?”
“Uhm.” I wrinkle my forehead in thought. “Maybe he didn’t just want me to keep my nose out of his business. Maybe he’s worried about Devil being danger—”
“Hold on,” cuts in Josh excitedly. “He told you to keep your nose out of his business? That means he’s involved with Devil. Maybe he’s even–”
“A Devil Soldier.” I nod, realizing I might have left out an important piece of information. “Yeah, he is.”
Josh is so excited he actually starts bouncing his own legs. “Piper! I think I’ve figured it out. Quill might not be the murderer, but a Devil soldier is. They didn’t hurt you because they were loyal to Quill.”
My brow clears as I listen to his theory. Yeah, that makes sense. No matter how Quill feels about me, I suppose he wouldn’t be particularly pleased if I did bite the dust. Given how he spent seventy grand trying to protect me.
But then I think back to Jones.
“Or maybe they stuck to their contract, which didn’t include me. Just like Jones died, but not his wife or kid, even though they witnessed it.”
“Contract?” echoes Josh, and I grimace at the realization that I definitely withheld some important information from the only person who seems determined to get answers for me.
“Yeah, that’s the name I’ve heard Quill use for people the Devil soldiers have been assigned to kill.”
“Okay.” Josh is still scribbling excitedly in his notebook.
“So, maybe they’re not loyal at all. Maybe they only kill whoever they’re assigned to, and that means we can draw the conclusion that your parents’ murder, and Jones’, were contracts.
They were all killed by Devil soldiers, and that’s the connection. ”
“Maybe Jones was even killed for reasons related to my parents,” I guess. “Maybe Jones knew that it wasn’t a suicide. He’s never struck me as being a complete idiot. Just mostly one.”
“So he could’ve realized it was a Devil soldier kill,” nods Josh.
“Which freaked him out. He realized knowing that could get him killed. So, even though he tried to cover up his knowledge of it, he must have revealed stuff to the wrong person, or maybe shown just a bit too much curiosity, and so he ended up as their next contract. Josh,” I suddenly add.
“Quill is in trouble. He messed up a contract. I wonder…” My heart is racing as I try to drink my frappucino, but I gulp in air, because I’ve already drained it of its last drops.
“I wonder if he was after all involved. He messes up a contract right after Jones died. Right after my parents died.”
I’m back to jittering uncontrollably while feeling sick to my stomach. “I need another frappucino.”
“I think you’ve had enough,” comments Josh, taking in my legs, jerking frantically.
“It helps me think.” I count what remains of my twenty-dollar bill.
I’d already spent some of it earlier, and if I buy another drink, I definitely won’t have enough money to eat anything other than the package of unopened cereal that I found at home.
It kind of grosses me out to eat anything in the house where my parents just died, but I haven’t really felt hungry anyway, since my life suddenly imploded.
I don’t want to break another bill just yet, because the embarrassing truth is I really need money.
But I need this sickeningly sweet, caffeinated drink even more. I stand up to go order.
“Don’t bother,” says Josh. “I’ll get you one. But a small, this time. Okay?”
“Fine. Thanks.”
Josh scoops up the bills I’ve just handed him and heads to the counter. He returns a few minutes later with a small for me and another venti latte for him.
“It helps me think too,” he explains sheepishly. Then his expression grows even more sheepish as he returns my two five-dollar bills to me. “Oops. I forgot to use your money.”
I scowl at him. Clearly, he’s figured out I’m poor. Great.
“But you just lost your job,” I protest.
He shrugs. “I’ll get another one soon. In the meantime, I have savings.”
“You shouldn’t be buying me Starbucks drinks out of your savings.”
“Call it investigation expenses. It’s fine. I’m having the time of my life.”
Then he has the grace to redden, probably realizing for the first time today that he’s being a little thoughtless.
But I’m beginning to know him well enough to understand him, so I merely shrug and focus back on our discussion.
“I bet you’re right about Jones. If both he and your parents were Devil kills, the same soldier wasn’t necessarily involved in all of the deaths. Maybe the soldiers are taught a specific way to kill people.”
“Yeah. Could be Liam and Dane.”
“Right.” His face clouds over as he probably remembers what I revealed to him before. “They’re Devil soldiers too. So I guess Quill knows them.”
Crap. Another important piece of information I didn’t give him. “Actually, they’re his best friends.”
Josh’s jaw practically hangs open at that. “But they raped you,” he says in a barely audible breath.
I swallow half my frappuccino in one gulp, feeling the jitters reach a practically intolerable level. Yeah, there’s no way I’m giving him the rest of that story. No matter how important it might be for our case.
He would never kill my parents. His hard limit is ordering his best friends to rape me.
Somehow, Josh has the wherewithal to not jot down, “Best friends of Quill raped murdered parents’ daughter.” He swallows nervously and murmurs, “Even though they did… what they did… if they were Quill’s friends, maybe there was some loyalty there. Just enough to not kill you.”
Crushing down the rising tide of panicked emotion that always threatens me when I so much as hear Liam and Dane’s names, I face Josh with a neutral expression. “Or they’re Devil soldiers, and I wasn’t in the contract,” I remind him.
“Right.” Josh is back to frowning in thought. “I feel like we haven’t been asking ourselves the most obvious question of all.”
“What?”
“Why the hell were your parents in a Devil contract to begin with?”