𝑾𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 ➸𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑨𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕 ꟾ𝟏ꟾ

Checkmate

"So this kid's the real killer?" Mr. Stilinski asks as Stiles circles Matt's yearbook photo with a red marker.

Stiles scratches his face and glances up at his dad while Scott and I stand behind him. "Yeah."

Noah leans onto the table, shaking his head. "No."

He narrows his eyes at his dad as I cross my arms. "Yes!"

"No."

"Dad, come on." Stiles pleads, jumping up from his chair. "Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So all he had to do was, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common."

"Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter, Kara, wasn't in Harris' class." He argues, making Stiles roll his eyes and hold up a hand in defeat.

"Oh, okay, you're right, sorry." He remarks, sarcasm lacing his words. "So I guess they dropped the charges against him?"

Stilinski glares at Stiles, unable to come up with a comeback. "No. You know what, they're not dropping the charges but that doesn't prove anything."

Stiles' mouth drops as he stares at his dad but Noah just turns to us. "Guys, do you believe this?"

I turn to Scott as he leans forward. "It's not easy to explain how we know, but if you can just trust us."

"Matt is a hundred percent the killer," I add as Stiles nods at me.

"Yeah, he took Harris's car, okay?" Noah just sighs as Stiles continues. "Look, he knew if the cops found tire tracks at one of the murders and that if enough of the victims were in Harris' class, that they'd arrest him."

"Alright, fine. I'll allow the remote possibility." Stilinski gives in as the three of us glance at each other with hopeful expressions. "Give me a motive. I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Stiles yells, holding out his arms. "Our swim team sucks! They haven't won in years."

My forehead wrinkles as Stiles tries to persuade his dad. "Okay, we don't have a motive yet. I mean, come on, does Harris?"

Stilinski stares at Stiles for a few seconds before setting his eyes on the photo of Matt. "What do you want me to do?"

My eyebrows raise, surprised that he actually is giving us the time of day as Scott answers him. "We need to look at the evidence."

"Yeah, that would be in the station, where I no longer work."

"Trust me, they'll let you in."

Noah's eyes widen as he holds up a finger at Stiles. "Trust you?"

"Trust... trust them?" Stiles tries again, making Stilinski nod.

He glances at Scott and me. "Them I trust."

After a long ride of Stiles and Mr. Stilinski bickering, we finally made it to the Sheriff's Station in one piece. We all hop out of Noah's car and hurry for the front door. The officer at the front desk purses her lip as we all pile in.

The officer looks up at Stilinski as he leans against the desk. "It's two in the morning."

He nods. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't extremely important."

As Noah convinces the officer, Stiles turns to Scott and me and whispers, "We look at the hospital stuff first, okay?"

Scott agrees but then turns back to him. "Why?"