The Perfectionists

Chapter 29

FRIDAY NIGHT, CHAD AND AUDREY stood beneath the glowing marquee of the Majestic Theater, out on their first dinner-and-a-movie date in far too long. Raindrops glittered in the multicolored lights. A small crowd of moviegoers milled around beneath the overhang, most of them college kids dressed in thrift-store sweaters and chunky scarves. They talked in animated voices and passed around clove cigarettes.

"You've been awfully quiet all night," Chad said, taking Audrey's hand.

Audrey looked up at him, her heart humming in her chest. He was wearing a soft flannel shirt and dark-wash jeans. Tonight, his unkempt curls and five o'clock shadow didn't look scruffy so much as . . . arty. She noticed some of the college girls glancing their way enviously, and smiled.

"Oh, I'm just thinking about the movie," she said. They'd just gotten out of a showing of Wings of Desire. Audrey had never seen anything like it. It didn't have much of a plot, but it was about angels following people around Berlin, listening to the humans' thoughts. She wasn't sure she'd understood it, but it was weird and sad and beautiful, and it made her miss her mother.

Chad fumbled with his umbrella and held it high over her head as they walked toward his car. "Isn't it cool? I saw it for the first time in German class and it blew my mind. I wish Jay showed us more foreign stuff like that. All the old Hollywood movies he shows are great, but they're all kind of the same, you know?" His lips twisted into a slightly arrogant smirk. "Of course, I don't think he's smart enough to teach anything really challenging."

An icicle formed in her gut at the mention of Jay. "He's smarter than you think," she murmured. Maybe even smart enough to get away with murder.

Chad glanced at her sidelong. "Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not," Audrey snapped. "You know I don't like him. I just don't think that because he's an asshole, he's dumb. He's clearly smart, to get away with what he's been doing."

"Okay, okay." Chad raised his hands, palms up, and looked apologetic. "It's just that that guy gets creepier all the time. Yesterday morning he was up at six AM digging in the backyard."

Audrey felt a chill crawl up her spine. "Did you get a video of him or anything? Something to send to the cops?"

Chad looked chagrined. "I ran to grab my phone, but by that time, he'd gone back inside. Still. It seemed really sketchy. Wonder what he's hiding back there."

Audrey tapped her fingers against her Hermès cuff bracelet. Obviously Jay wasn't burying Ben. . . but what else could he be doing? She suddenly wished she could tell Chad everything. She hated having these secrets.

They drove home in a companionable silence, the swishy sound of the windshield wipers lulling Audrey into a dreamy sort of calm. The rain blurred the scenery, the car was warm, and her favorite National song crooned softly from the stereo. After about ten minutes, Chad pulled into her circular gravel driveway. The lights in the front hall were on. It wasn't even ten yet—her father would still be awake, watching the nightly news in the den. She bit her lip, feeling reckless. Would Leslie really say anything if she brought Chad in just for a little bit?

"Do you want to come in?" she asked, turning to face him.

A shy smile broke across his face. "That sounds nice."

"It won't be, honestly." She gave a nervous laugh. "I mean, Leslie will be a bitch. She'll be pissed off that I'm disobeying her strict orders." She rolled her eyes.

"I've handled her before, and I can handle her again." Chad cradled her cheek in his hand and leaned in to kiss her. But before their lips touched, the world erupted in sound and light.

Four police cars were speeding up the drive, lights flashing and sirens wailing. Audrey jerked upright as cop cars pulled up on either side of them. She jumped out of the car and almost walked into Detective Peters.

"Miss Rose," he said, his deep voice serious. "Good timing."

"What's going on?" Audrey asked, hugging her shawl around her bare arms, eyes wide. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her father and stepmother walk onto the porch. They stared at the police car . . . and then at Audrey. Chad took her hand and held it tight.

"We've finally got a warrant to search your house," the detective said smoothly. "Everyone thinks that the half-dozen witnesses who say the last time they saw Ben was when he was following you up the stairs is enough to consider you a person of interest. Between that, and the death threat you sent him . . ."

"I never threatened him!" Her voice was a shrill, desperate shriek.

Detective Peters didn't bat an eye. "We have you on record telling Ben you were going to kill him. We also have testimony that you orchestrated a plan to murder Ben during one of your classes in school."

Chad dropped her hand. Audrey shook her head mutely, sputtering. A testimony of their discussion in film studies class. She knew exactly who'd given it. Granger.

"It's not what it seems," she said with a gasp. And then something caught her eye on the front porch. Leslie stood with her mouth drawn into a line so tight her lips were invisible. Next to her, Audrey's father stood with tears rolling down his cheeks. He looked at Audrey like he didn't even recognize her. Audrey waited for him to do something, tell the cops she was a good girl, someone who would never, ever hurt anyone. But he didn't. He just stood there.

The cops waved the warrant to her father, and he stepped aside weakly, his form suddenly small and shrunken. Audrey felt Chad's arm slide around her waist, stabilizing her. She sagged against him, a single sob bursting up through her chest.

"Audrey," he pleaded. "What's he talking about? Did you do something to Ben?"

Audrey blinked hard, tears spilling down her cheeks. She saw her bedroom light snap on upstairs. Dark silhouettes of cops ransacking her room. There wasn't anything incriminating in the house—she was almost certain of it. The girls hadn't left any messages, notes, or texts about their plan to prank Ben—and she hadn't written in her diary in weeks. But the cops were looking to pin the crime on her now, and that meant the film studies group was running out of time.

She turned to Chad, shivering in the rain. "I can't explain right now," she whispered.

He looked down at her for a long moment, a frown creasing his forehead. "Why not?" he cried. "Audrey, what did you do?"

She shook her head. "It's not what you think. This is . . . messed up."

Chad stood with his hand on the car door, a tormented expression on his face as he stared back at her. Her father and Leslie turned away, following another set of officers inside.

"Chad," she said, her voice flat, "just go."
He turned without another word and got into his car. She watched his car roll out the "driveway, a hollow ache in her chest. Chad believed in her—even when things looked worse than ever, he was on her side. A part of her wished she could call him back, ask him to stay. But she couldn't. It was up to her to get out of this mess.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Uma.

"Get the others," she whispered. "We need to get into Jay's house and find that cyanide. We're ending this. Tonight."