The Devil Inside

25: The Devil Inside

Fifth period became a sort of hell for Cooper over the next few weeks.

Tom's absence in yearbook cut like a blade. Cooper would find his eyes trailing down the bank of computers, searching for a shock of white hair or the flash of a camera lens. But Tom was still in the hospital, slumbering in a coma he might never wake from.

The bleak atmosphere that had fallen over the class persisted into the final days of January. Even Mike and his silver tongue couldn't dispel the tension in the room. And eventually, he stopped trying altogether.

Mike. The thought of him was another festering wound. Did you kill her? The question hovered on the tip of Cooper's tongue each time their eyes met over the rim of their screens. Did you and that brother of yours lure Venus to her death to bury your sins? And what about Tom? Rachel? For your sake, I hope you're innocent. Otherwise, Calla is going to—

"Cooper?"

He jumped out of his seat. "I...oh." He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Mrs. Greenfield."

She smiled down at him. "The bell rang five minutes ago, honey. I'm locking up."

He blinked, looking around the computer lab to find it empty. "Oh. Sorry, Mrs. Greenfield."

"That's quite alright." She dug around in her bag for her keys while he packed up his things, dispelling his dark thoughts.

A wasted effort. No matter how many distractions he attempted to lose himself in, he always came back to the same worries, the same names. A string of them, scrolling across his brain at all hours of the day.

Mike. Astrid. Stephanie. Blake. Gareth. Tom. Mike. Astrid Stephanie Blake Gareth Tom Mike—

He stepped outside, his bag over his shoulder, and sighed at the scene before him.

Vincent and Calla were waiting for him at his car, staring awkwardly into the distance—anything to avoid direct eye contact with the other. He inwardly cringed.

Calla noticed him first. She raised an eyebrow, as if in challenge. Are you going to stand there all day?

With another heavy sigh, he approached. "Are we still on for fajita night, then?"

Vincent twisted around, startled. "There you are."

"Here I am," he muttered, jamming his keys in the driver side door. The lock gave way with a satisfying thwump. He dropped into his seat and unlocked the passenger door manually—just one more inconvenience he had to deal with, now that his car had decided to quit on him altogether.

Vincent jammed himself into the backseat with a few mumbled curses. Calla took her seat without a word.

"Don't get me wrong," Cooper started, breaking their silent standoff. "Super stoked to get the band back together. But this guy could really use a nap."

"The detective knows we went to the cemetery," Calla said without preamble.

"Oh, look at that. I'm wide awake." Cooper turned to her, incredulous. "And when were you going to share this fantastic bit of information?"

She shrugged. As if that were answer enough.

"Imagine my surprise," Vincent said dryly. "She dropped that dime on me five minutes ago." He leaned forward, his hands braced against the back of Cooper's headrest. "The old creep is following us everywhere. Including the party. Isn't that a little...suspicious?"

"I don't know about suspicious," Cooper said with a frown. "Deranged? Unhinged? Goddamnit, I left my thesaurus at home."

"Hold on." Vincent grudgingly turned his attention to Calla. "How do you know he followed us? To the cemetery, I mean."