The Alpha's Keeper

The Real Killer

"So this kid's the real killer?" Sheriff Stilinski asked me, Scott, and Stiles. Stiles had managed to convince me and Scott to tell his dad – who had been fired from being Sheriff – that Matt was behind all the murders. "Yeah." Stiles said, nodding along. "No." Sheriff – sorry – Mr. Stilinski replied, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over her chest. "Yes!" Stiles replied. "No." Mr. Stilinski repeated, clearly not believing his son at the moment. "Dad, come on. Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So all he had to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common." Stiles insisted.

"Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter, Kara, wasn't in Harris' class." Mr. Stilinski pointed out. Stiles had been keeping me and Scott up to date with his investigation. It was true, the rave promoter hadn't been in Harris' class, but she still went to our school. "Alright, okay, you're right, sorry. Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?" Stiles asked, hands on his hips as he tried to one-up his father. "No. You know what? They're not dropping the charges. But that doesn't prove anything." Mr. Stilinski insisted, pointing a finger at his son as a sort of warning. Stiles opened his mouth to speak but Mr. Stilinski cut him off, turning his gaze on me and my brother. "Scott, Evie, do you believe this?" he asked us, pointing at Stiles. Stiles groaned in frustration. "It's really hard to explain how we know this, but you gotta trust us. We know it's Matt." Scott insisted. Mr. Stilinski looked at me, one eyebrow raised expectantly. "Yeah, I know it. He took Harris' car. He knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in Harris' class, that they'd arrest him." I said, arms crossed defiantly as I met the older man's gaze.

"Alright, fine. I'll allow the remote possibility, but give me a motive. I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?" Mr. Stilinski asked. He was a good cop and poked holes in our story. But we knew it was true – we just couldn't tell him how we knew. "Isn't it obvious? Our swim team sucks! They haven't won in, like, six years." Stiles said, arms moving wildly. "Okay, we don't have a motive yet. I mean, come on, does Harris?" I asked, jumping in to save Stiles from the scrutinizing gaze of his father. "What do you want me to do?" Mr. Stilinski asked us with a heavy sigh. "We need you to look at the evidence." Stiles said with a small nod, as if to encourage his father. "Yeah, that would be in the station, where I no longer work." Mr. Stilinski snapped. "Trust me, they'll let you in." Stiles insisted. "Trust you?" Mr. Stilinski asked, an eyebrow raised. "Trust... trust Scott and Evie?" Stiles said, gesturing to me and my brother. "Scott and Evie I trust." Mr. Stilinski said with a nod.

We managed to sneak into the station – well, me, Scott, and Stiles snuck in. Mr. Stilinski walked in. Mr. Stilinski sat at his old desk with his old computer, the three of us hovering over his shoulder. "I don't know, guys. I mean, look at this. There was a six-car pileup that night, the hospital was jammed." Mr. Stilinski told us. We had decided to look at the hospital footage first since that was the only murder actually committed by Matt. "Alright, just keep looking. He had to have passed one of the cameras on that floor to get to Jessica. He's gotta be on the footage somewhere." I said, my eyes flickering over every piece of footage. "Oh, hold on, stop!" Scott called, pointing the screen. "Did you see that? Scroll back." my brother insisted. Mr. Stilinski complied and rolled the footage back to a man with his back to the camera. "That's him! That's Matt!" Stiles called out, pointing at the man in the footage. "All I see is the back of someone' head." Mr. Stilinski pointed out. "Matt's head, yeah. I sit behind him in history. He's got a very distinct cranium, it's weird." Stiles insisted. "You're weird." I muttered, shooting him a smirk.

"Are you crazy?" Mr. Stilinski asked his son. "Alright, fine, then look at his jacket, huh? How many people do you know who wear black leather jackets?" Stiles asked, gesturing to the screen. "My boyfriend." I said, shrugging slightly. "You have a boyfriend?" Stiles and his father asked me at the same time. "Yeah, so what?" I asked them, challenging them to say something that would piss me off. They both just shook their head before turning their gazes back to the screen. "And about a million other people." I added, making Mr. Stilinski nod in agreement. "Okay, can we scroll forward? There's gotta be a shot of him coming at one of the cameras." Scott insisted, changing the topic only slightly. "Right there! Stop, stop!" insisted, pointing at the camera. "See, there he is again." I said. There was only barely a side view of his face – not enough to be 100% recognizable. "You mean there's the back of his head again." Mr. Stilinski replied. I could see where Stiles gets his sass from. "Okay, but look. E's talking to someone." Stiles pointed out as a familiar figure appeared on the screen, facing Matt. "He's talking to our mom." Scott muttered, his eyes on the screen intensely.