Chapter 7
Holly
Thirteen hours later
Cami’s bar
“What do you mean someone broke into your apartment?” Cami straightens the rack of wine glasses behind the bar, her brows arching at my prolonged silence.
“Is that a rhetorical question or do you actually want me to repeat everything for the fourth time?”
“Rhetorical, obvi. But I don’t get it. Why would someone break into your apartment and steal your clothes? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“They weren’t my clothes,” I say for the umpteenth time, taking a sip of my coffee. “We’ve been over this, Cami. I got it from some girl I met in the bathroom last night.” And I’m supposed to meet her here in the next ten minutes to return the exact same clothes.
“Are you sure you didn’t just misplace it?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I set my coffee down. A thin layer of sweat dampens my forehead as a nagging thought invades my mind. The same nagging thought that hasn’t left my mind ever since I left work last night. “Cami.”
“Hmmm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Uh-oh. Do I need to grab a drink for this?”
“I think I might know who sent me that first text.”
Her gaze narrows. “Who?”
“Theo.”
She frowns. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”
“Cami, I’ve told you about him like a hundred times. He’s the guy I work with.”
Slowly but eventually, realization dawns on her. “Ohhhh, the pretty one you claim to hate?”
“I don’t claim to hate him, I do hate him. And he isn’t pretty.” I pull out my phone and show Cami the messages again.
UNKNOWN: How DOES it feel? Killing someone?
“That’s what he said to me before I left the hospital,” I explain.
Her frown deepens. “I’m confused, I thought you didn’t kill people at work.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, so why is he asking you how it feels to kill someone at the hospital?”
I explain everything to her. From Jane Doe to the run-in with Theo in the lounge. The panic on Cami’s face quickly transforms into something resembling relief, and “Oh” is her only response.
“What’s oh?”
“Nothing.”
“Spit it out.”
She shrugs. “It’s just that, if I’m following your story correctly, you think that the guy you work with, the one you claim to hate —”
I roll my eyes.
“— you think he is the one who’s been sending you creepy stalker messages?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s also the one who broke into your home?”
“Yes.”
“To steal a…top?”
A pause. “And jeans.”
Cami nods. “Right, so he’s opening a boutique.”
“Okay fine, when you put it like that, it sounds kinda —”
“Dumb,” Cami cuts me off. “It sounds dumb, Holly. The first text had a picture of me bartending. Theo doesn’t even know we’re friends.
If he was the one who broke into your apartment, why would he steal your clothes out of all things?
On top of all that, your apartment has a number lock.
How would he know the code? I don't even know the code.”
I give her a slow nod. “I guess that makes sense.” But if that makes sense, then I’m back to square one.
Because who else has motive enough to torment me like this?
Not to mention, I have no idea what the fuck his motive might be other than getting on my last nerve till I explode due to anger, but…
still. This whole thing of not turning me in despite knowing what I’ve done — what I do — it’s…
it’s sick. Twisted. Diabolical and evil.
It has Theo Carter written all over it. I mean, why else would he taunt me and ask me how it felt to kill someone on a random Thursday night?
That’s not what normal people ask other normal people.
There was a lilt in his voice. A certain touch of mischief in the way he phrased that question.
Like he already knew the answer. He must know something, right?
My whole body ignites with frustration. I hate this! I hate not knowing!
“You really think it’s him, don’t you?” Cami asks.
“I don’t know. Who else could it be?”
She leans forward to rest her elbows against the bar top and lowers her voice just a smidge. “You know there’s a very simple solution to all of this.”
“What?”
She smiles, her eyes gleaming with a familiar insanity.
“No. I’m not killing him.”
“Why not? If he really is the one sending you these messages, then he absolutely deserves to be six feet in the ground. And if he’s not, you hate the guy. Either way, it’s a win-win.”
An odd sensation twists my gut, rolling and heaving, fresh and new. “Yeah. Win-win.”
“You don’t sound very sure.”
“No, I am. It’s just…” The sensation moves up to my chest and I lift my hand to rub the spot. “He’s going to be the best man at April’s wedding in less than a week. If I kill him now, then I will basically ruin her wedding.”
Amusement dances across Cami’s features and I can’t help but feel a surge of annoyance. What the hell is so funny? “What?” I demand, my tone edged with irritation.
Her response only fuels my frustration. “You absolutely do not hate that man.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re into him.”
“What?!” I’m pretty sure my entire face cringes. “Just because my first impulse isn’t to kill him, doesn’t mean I am into him. I’m just trying to be smart about this.”
“Your first impulse to anything is to kill him. You're either extremely into this man I have never heard of until today, or you're going soft, Holly. Both are equally embarrassing scenarios.”
Even though her words grate on my nerves, I suppress the urge to snap back. The suggestion that I'm going soft is absurd. Absolutely not. I am not going soft! Especially not for Theo fucking Carter. Sick.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a woman entering the bar. She walks behind me, heading towards an empty booth at the other end of the bar. Maintaining eye contact with Cami, I subtly extend my leg, and a shocked yelp escapes the woman’s mouth as she stumbles and crashes to the floor.
“Oops.” My tone is nonchalant, and my gaze is still fixed on Cami, who’s too busy gaping at the sight. Behind me, I hear some groaning and scuffling. I rise from my seat to lend a hand to the poor woman.
I grab her hand and gently help her to her feet, offering a reassuring smile. “Down the hallway to the right,” I say in a calm voice, guiding her towards the washroom. “You have some blood on your lip.”
She goes on staring at me, mute and with a horrified expression. I lean in closer to wipe away some blood from her bottom lip, then lick it off my thumb. “Sorry. I'm just so clumsy today.” I try my best to offer a comforting smile, even though I’m sure I look like a deranged toddler.
The woman, clearly taken aback, takes a step back and bolts out the bar like she’s seen a ghost. Once she's out of sight, I turn back to Camille. “Going soft, you say?”
Camille rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I still think that you should do something about it.” The something being Theo Carter.
I sit back down. “Maybe I can knock him out and stab him in the leg a little bit?” I’m not kidding. I never ever kid about stabbing people in the leg. But Cami laughs, nonetheless.
“That could work,” she says. I sense a bit of irritation in her voice. “Or you could begin with telling me why you hate him so much so that I can help you come up with a better and more satisfying plan.”
“There’s no reason.”
“Come on, Holly. We’ve been friends for three years. Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.” It really is nothing. He’s been an annoying pain in my ass ever since I started working at EGH. I’ve asked him to stop pissing me off multiple times, and he hasn’t. Does it really have to be more complicated than that?
“We don’t keep secrets from each other. I thought I made that clear long ago.”
“There’s nothing to tell, Cami. And even if there was, you don’t need to know the story to be on my side.”
Cami meets my gaze with a hint of seriousness on her face. Two whole seconds pass and she speaks again, “Of course, Hol. I’m always on your side. Don’t ever doubt that.”
I give her a soft smile, and she mirrors it right back.
A heaviness spreads across my stomach and my mind goes back to the break-in.
Cami is right. It really doesn't make any sense. Even if it was Theo who broke into my apartment last night, why the fuck would he steal my clothes? Dirty, bloody clothes. Those clothes are evidence. Is that what this is about? Revenge? I’ve always been extremely careful about covering my tracks after each kill.
But it’s possible that someone knows. Did I accidentally murder Theo’s dad or something?
Or maybe a long-lost brother? Hmm. Maybe it’s not him.
If revenge is the motive, then it could be anyone else.
Someone related to one of my victims? That’s a long list to comb through.
Who could it be? An angry ex-girlfriend?
A family member? The thought wraps itself around my brain, ensconcing it in a bubble where nothing but my pounding heart and racing pulse exists.
I take a sip of my coffee. It’s cold now. My coffee is cold, some fucking asshole is trying to mess with me, and I don’t know why. The second I find out, heads are going to roll.
I draw in a short breath, looking around as if the person who sent me all these texts is standing right behind me. I want to yell and scream. I want to throw something at someone. Instead, I take out my phone and stare at the very first text again.
UNKNOWN: Roses are red, violets are blue, aren’t you glad I found you…
What the fuck does this message even mean? Is it some sort of threat? Am I supposed to respond? What would I even say? Love the stupid poem, motherfucker. Mind telling me who you are?