Maybe I should go back on Match.com.
I tried to drift off to sleep—tried counting sheep and reciting the Gettysburg address, both usually fail-safe knockouts—but twenty minutes later my heart was still slamming against my rib cage and my whole body was tense, humming with adrenaline.
Kale was willing to show up in a shower of fire to get Vlad’s attention. She is willing to cut off his head due to jealousy, I thought. Yes, but she’s a teen witch, I reasoned. With non-witchy hormones.
I sat bolt upright in bed a second time.
Jealousy.
I grabbed my cell phone and counted the rings.
“This better be a matter of life or death, Lawson.”
I took a brief, fluttering second to absorb the velvet smoothness of Alex’s voice—even as it was throaty and gruff with sleep.
“How’d you know it was me?”
“A thrilling combination of good detective work and caller ID. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I sucked in a breath and began pacing. “Sampson said you’re working on the Mercy kidnapping case, too, right?”
“Strictly the aboveground part of it. No creepy-crawlies or bump-in-the-nighties. Why?”
“Have you interviewed the girls’ friends yet? Cathy and Alyssa’s?”
I could hear the mattress groan as Alex changed position and I clamped my knees together and bit into my lower lip, scolding myself for thinking of Alex, position, and mattress all in the same sentence.
“So, Alyssa’s disappearance. What if it’s not the same unsub who snatched Cathy? What if it’s something entirely different?”
“I’m listening.”
“What if it’s jealousy? Alyssa was popular and friendly, everyone seemed to like her. She disappears and two days later another girl is sitting in her seat. Her clothes are burned on campus. That could be very significant. What if another girl is literally trying to be her?”
“Wait, wait, wait. What is this about Alyssa’s clothes being burned? And on campus?”
My chest tightened. “Didn’t Will mention that earlier? He was supposed to call you.” A flash of guilt washed over me and burned at the back of my neck.
Alex grumbled. “I don’t trust that guy.”
Ever since Will had inadvertently stabbed Alex in an attempt to defend my life, the two weren’t so keen on each other. And my Freudian slip—or my tossing of Will under the bus as it were—wasn’t helping.
I tried to appease my guilt by making a mental note that once the universe stopped vaulting into hell and raining down dead bodies, I’d throw some kind of bowling party or something so they could really bond.
But now wasn’t the time.
“I think I was supposed to call you. It wasn’t Will’s fault.” It rolled out in one complete string and Alex’s silence on the other end of the phone did nothing to make me feel better about coming clean.
“Where did you find Alyssa’s clothes? When? Who found them?”
“We found them. Today. In the Dumpster. They were on fire. Well, the Dumpster was on fire, but we were able to save some of the fabric. Enough to at least be able to figure out what it was.”
“How did you know it was Alyssa’s? Aren’t all the girls pretty much in the same uniform? Did it have her name printed on it somewhere?”
“No.” My stomach churned and I could feel the slightly warm plastic sole of Alyssa’s shoe in my hand. “We found one of her shoes. Her name was written on that.”
There was another beat of silence. Then, finally, “Lawson, this isn’t a game. A girl’s life is at stake.”
“I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you—”
It could have been an innocent cough, but I was pretty sure it was a derisive snort from Alex’s side of the phone. It wasn’t too long ago I was sitting in the passenger seat of Alex’s squad car, lying to his face.
I gulped and muttered weakly, “I promise.”
I could hear Alex processing the information. “Fine. But bring me the burnt uniform and all the information you have tomorrow. And no more conveniently forgetting to relay information. Deal?”
I nodded, knowing he couldn’t see me on my end. “Deal.”
“Now can I get some sleep?”
I chewed the inside of my lip, considering whether or not to tell him my theory. “No. My theory.”
Alex sighed.
“You said you wanted me to tell you everything.”
“And I’m already starting to regret it. But go ahead.”
“Well.” I sucked in a steadying breath. “A girl who is jealous of another girl can be ruthless.”
“Ruthless, sure. But murderous?” Alex sounded skeptical.
“People have killed for a lot less. It’s not like when you were—” I caught myself before saying “alive.”
“So you’re vetoing Sampson’s witchcraft idea?”
I sat back onto my bed and pinched my lower lip. “Not exactly. I’m just throwing a theory out there for you.”