Since the sniffer is still only giving me work info on Bay, I dig into the pictures I stole from Ed Price’s office. Everything is copied to my laptop, so I can access the images’ Exif files.
It’s useful stuff, since it captures all of the camera settings and information for each photo, things like the shutter speed, focal length, and date/time stamps. Looks like all of the photographs were taken with the Nikon D90 SLR camera registered to an IBay. No mystery there. That must be Ian. Considering they were all living together at the time, Kyle probably borrowed the camera and, later, dumped the images onto a computer hard drive or jump drive. So that leaves . . . what else?
Ugh. The pictures themselves. Whoever took them enjoyed the process. The shots are all from different angles. In one, you can see Lell’s entire mutilated body. In another, there’s only her bloodied chest. There are a few close-ups that are more awkwardly placed. The camera angle is cocked and you can see another person’s hand and forearm in the shot, posing Lell’s head so it better faces the camera. There’s a small splatter of blood on the guy’s forearm. Or is it a birthmark? It kind of looks like one of the amoebas we studied in biology: lumpy-edged and tiny, which makes me believe it might be a birthmark.
It’s, quite literally, very little to go on. After another hour of staring at the pictures, all I have to give Carson is the “blood splatter that looks like a birthmark” theory and the fact that both the victims were stabbed to death. I’m sure a forensic specialist would be able to get more from the photos. All I’m getting is nauseated.
No matter how many times I scroll through the pictures I don’t get over being disgusted. They’re horrifying. No one deserves to die like that.
It’s only because I’ve pulled back from the screen that I notice the movement on my second monitor screen. A man steps out of the shadows down on the street. He’s looking at our neighbors, our yard, the setup of our house.
He’s too far away to get an ID, but I don’t really need one. I recognize the walk, the agitation. He paces the same way now as he did in the woods when he chased me.
Kyle Bay.
He’s found me.
35
Kyle leaves around two, but I can’t manage any real sleep after that. I keep getting up to check the security feed, and when I finally put my head on my desk and doze off, I dream about being buried alive.
The alarm goes off at seven. I stumble downstairs, late, and Bren tells me I can drive myself to school. Gotta think this is a good sign. Either she’s getting tired of taking me to school or I’m on the verge of being ungrounded.
Because I’m running behind, I get stuck parking at the very back of the lot and have to hoof it to my locker before the homeroom bell rings. I don’t even have the lock open before I hear someone’s throat clear.
“I never see you anymore.”
I turn around slowly, stifling a sigh. Ian Bay is leaning against the lockers, both hands fisted around his book bag straps, a new travel magazine stuffed in the bag’s side pocket.
“I’ve been busy,” I say. “I’m still finishing up midterm projects.”
Which is mostly true. I’m just omitting the part where I’ve been kinda sorta avoiding him ever since I turned in our computer science report. I’ve had things to do for Carson and I’ve been looking into my mom. The way those two things are seeping into each other bothers me. A lot.
Then again, now that I’m face-to-face with Ian I feel worse. I’m not the only person who’s lost people—and he stands to lose even more if Carson doesn’t catch his brother.
“Maybe we could do something after you’re done?” Ian asks.
“Yeah, maybe.”
I take my history book out of my bag, open my locker, and scowl.
There’s another DVD on top of my books. Must be more interviews. This is starting to move past creepy and slide straight into annoying.
I turn the DVD over, check the inside of the case. No labels.
“What is it?” Ian asks.
“Nothing.” And it is nothing. I’m half tempted to leave it there and slam the door. What’s the point of watching anymore? What’s the point of any of it?
There isn’t.
But I still end up pocketing it.
I wish I hadn’t.
I wish I’d thrown the DVD away, buried it, burned it.
God, I’m such a liar. I wanted the security footage. You’d think I would have been thrilled, done some sort of happy dance rather than vomit in the toilet.
Yeah, you’d think.
I tell Bren I have a migraine and I go to my room as soon as I get home from school. First off, I check the security cameras for our house and, to my relief, there’s no sign of Kyle or Jason. The front yard stayed empty except for the neighbor’s dog coming by to use Bren’s bushes as his personal potty. Feeling better already, I pop the new DVD into my computer and wait for the virus check to finish while I change.