“No.”
“So there really isn’t any reason to believe that the same person is targeting both of you?”
“No.” Sawyer frowned. “I guess not.”
Knowing that her best friend wasn’t a target of Sawyer’s admirer should have made her feel better, but the thought that two horrible people out on the loose in Crescent Hill wasn’t any more comforting.
“So you said you got a note after your teacher passed away.” Stephen cocked his head. “Did you bring any of these notes?”
Sawyer wagged her head. “No. I didn’t really plan on coming here this morning.”
“Do you recognize the handwriting, or was there a postmark? Anything recognizable?”
“No.”
“Well, Sawyer, I understand your concern and I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, but I really think this is just—”
“A coincidence? A prank? Someone sent me flowers too, at school. And then someone spray-painted my gym locker—right after making coleslaw out of my clothes while I was in the shower.”
Sawyer listened to the tension rising in her voice and cringed inwardly. Everything she was saying did sound preposterous, coincidental—like a prank. Someone was playing with her—was capitalizing on the horrid things that had happened and trying to freak her out. Sweat beaded along her upper lip and she sighed.
“Maybe you’re right. This is probably just a really bad prank.”
Stephen pressed his lips together in a sympathetic smile and patted Sawyer’s hand as it rested on the table. Her eyes followed his hand.
“I’m sorry that someone would do this to you, Sawyer. Kids can really suck. And from what I hear from my brother, your class has a particularly mean streak.”
Sawyer thought of Logan sitting in her car in his sweatpants and forced a smile. “I guess so.”
“He’s mentioned some kids—your late boyfriend included, sorry—who have pretty much tortured him from the time he set foot on campus.”
Sawyer dug her fingernail into the table’s veneer.
“Is there anything else I should know about these incidents? I’ll write a report just so we have something on file, should there be any more—”
Sawyer’s eyes flashed and her whole body stiffened, the thought of another note, another murder, like a steel fist to her gut. Stephen seemed to read her immediately. “Not that there will be any more incidents.”
She thought of the peanut butter label and shook her head. “No, sir.”
“Call me Stephen. Or Officer Haas, at worst. Not sir.”
Sawyer nodded wordlessly and stood when Stephen checked his watch. “Shouldn’t you be getting to school? If you leave now, you can just make the last bell.”
“Yeah.” Sawyer gathered her purse. “Thanks.”
As she left the police station she felt an overwhelming sense of relief—fueled by stupidity—and the tiniest bit of calm. Yeah, she convinced herself as she drove the distance to Hawthorne High, it’s just a prank. A stupid, bad-natured prank. I’m not responsible for anything.
She repeated the mantra even as she guided her car into the parking lot and pulled it into park. She gathered up her backpack, a twinge of confidence bolstering her movements. Just a prank…The words resonated in her head and seemed to fill her with a modicum of calm. But somewhere, deep down, Sawyer knew the calm wouldn’t last.
TEN
Sawyer was feeling slightly more comfortable after homeroom and had nearly forgotten the notes, the flowers, and the shredded clothes by the time she got to second period. When she walked into the choir room, she was downright giddy thinking of her solo, appearing in her new choir costume. Chloe bounded over to her.
“Hey! You’re smiling. Kind of like an idiot.” She poked Sawyer in the ribs and grinned. “Anything I should know about?”
Sawyer shook her head, feeling her soft brown hair tumble over her shoulders. “Nope. I’m just feeling pretty decent today.”
“Good to know.”
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Mr. Rose strode through the door, hands up as though he were conducting the students’ conversations. “Tone it down now. I suspect you all have been looking over—and loving—our new set list.” He shuffled some papers. “We’re going to start today with the third number first so we can work on everyone’s solos.” His eyes flashed to Sawyer’s and she gulped, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Oh, crap. I forgot my sheet music,” she murmured.
“Huh?” Chloe asked.
“My sheet music.” Sawyer’s hand shot into the air. “Um, Mr. Rose? Can I run to my locker for just a sec? I left my sheet music in there.”
Mr. Rose sat down at the piano and nodded, waving absently toward the door. “Hurry.”
Maggie rolled her eyes as Sawyer shimmied past. “And the whole world waits for Sawyer Dodd,” she muttered just loud enough for Sawyer to hear.