“Something like that.” His lips curled. “But you can take a stand for the six-legged creatures and borrow it from me.”
I pointed to my volleyball jersey. “I don’t have much time for extracurricular reading at the moment. But maybe later.”
Now, the books strewn over his desk show that his love of obscure reading material didn’t go out the window along with his old wardrobe. I turn to face the opposite wall, where the bed resides. It’s pretty bare, surprisingly absent of the heavy metal posters and graphic novels with creatures devouring body parts that I’d expected.
Also absent: Seth.
I do a quick scan of the room. The closet is open, revealing a dark, monochrome wardrobe. When I spoke to Seth for the first time in the library, he was wearing green. It turned his hazel eyes into emeralds.
The second time we spoke, his jeans and Converse sneakers were just like everyone else’s, and his eyes looked amber above his yellow shirt. That second time we were in the library again. Seth seemed to like the library, back in the days before he swapped it for the bleachers.
I approached the table where he was seated, just like the first time. “So, I see you finished your encyclopedia,” I said. “Or did you give up?”
His lips quirked at one side. “Finished it. And Volleyball for Dummies in between, just in case you came back in here. So I’d have something to talk to you about.” His eyes met mine, and my cheeks ignited.
Some people might have found this behavior creepy, borderline stalker, but truthfully, I didn’t. I thought it was kind of sweet. After feeling rejected by Gideon for so long, having a guy put real effort into getting me to notice him was flattering. “Really? And what did you learn?”
“Okay, I made that up. That book might not even exist, but I did a little research. Did you know that volleyball dates back to 1895?”
“They didn’t give us a history lesson. Just a uniform.”
We kept chatting until the librarian shushed us, and I headed off to my locker, beaming the whole way.
I lean inside the closet now, rifling through black shirts and jackets. There’s a wink of metal, and I halt. But it’s only a zipper. I grab the molding to catch my breath. What am I doing in here? Am I really going to find Melody’s necklace hung up next to tomorrow’s outfit? I back out of the closet, tripping over a black boot that toppled from the shoe rack. I recover, hoping Emily’s house has thick walls.
I dash over to the desk, pulling open each drawer in turn. All I need is that necklace, her phone, a love note she sent him. Anything that proves he was seeing her.
The drawers are just as orderly as the rest of the room. There are stacks of paper, envelopes, half-filled-out job applications, and a little tray of pens neatly arranged in compartments. Someone as intelligent as Seth shouldn’t be stuck working in the dinky town drugstore—especially not when it means being harassed on a daily basis. He must’ve stayed for Melody. I flip through the papers, stopping when something colorful catches my eye. Hidden beneath the forms is a collection of photographs. They’re quite good; it seems Seth is somewhat of an amateur photographer. There’s a blue jay perched on the branch of a tree, its lilac-colored blossoms bordering the scene. Beneath it is a photo of a sunset taken from a nearby hiking spot. I dig further, uncovering an image that makes every nerve in my body coil.
In it, a girl bends over to retrieve something from the floor. I recognize the medicine-filled aisles on either side of her. The photo looks like it was snapped from behind the drugstore counter. I also recognize the blond hair and slim figure of the unsuspecting shopper.
It’s Melody Davenport.
I slide the photo into my back pocket and rummage through the remaining drawers, checking over my shoulder every few seconds. But there’s nothing.
I turn to face the bookshelf, my last hope for finding something to prove Seth’s connection to Melody. A thump resounds from the next room. Emily has shifted from her position on the floor. I don’t have much time before she comes to check on me. I kneel down, my fingers skimming each spine until they brush a familiar cover. Last year’s Maribel High yearbook; Asher and I share a copy. But I stop because a slip of paper pokes out from between the pages, like a bookmark. I ease the book from the shelf, my hands shaking beneath its weight. As I let it fall open to the bookmarked page, my stomach springs into my throat.
It’s the volleyball page of the activities section. My photo is at the bottom, alongside the faces of Laura Gellman, Stephanie Reed, and the rest of last year’s varsity squad. But my eyes are immediately drawn to the middle row. There in the center of the pristinely posed group, Melody Davenport’s smile shines brighter than anyone else’s. Her long blond hair is curled to perfection, making Lillian Jeffries’s and Kate Lowe’s photos on either side pale in comparison. But there’s another reason Melody’s photograph stands out among the others.
Her eyes have been removed.
Dark, jagged holes stare back at me as my trembling hands try to keep the book from plummeting to the floor.
I snap a quick photo with my phone and close the yearbook. Thoughts screech in my head, but I have to return the book to the right spot. I thrust it back in, then turn around to find a dark shape in the doorway.
19
Seth Greer glares at me from across the room, blocking my path out the door. I try to catch my breath but manage only shallow intakes of air.
“S-sorry,” I stammer. “I was looking for the restroom.” This lie takes up whatever air supply I had, so Seth’s clothing isn’t the only black in the room. My vision tunnels, his menacing hazel eyes at the focus.
He doesn’t reply, but takes a step toward me. Should I call out to Emily? No. I need to get him talking. I’m already in deep; I have to make sure he was the one in the woods with Melody.
“Um, is it”—I point out the hall—“the one across the way?” No answer. Just another step closer. Okay, one more try. Then I’ll resort to screaming and bulldozing past him. “I’m Cass. We’ve met before, in the library?”
“I remember.” His voice is eerily calm. “Did you come by to borrow that book?”
I slap my head like I’m remembering. “Oh, yeah, about the ants.”
“Termites.”
“Right. I’d love to borrow it. I’ve been wanting to learn more about termites.” I cringe at the squeakiness of my voice.
“Oh, it’s not about termites,” he says with a smirk. “Not really.” Another step. “It’s about a teenage serial killer.”
I take a ragged breath. “I can see you’re still into reading.” My hand shakes as I motion to the piles of books.