“We did. And we know where it came from, too.”
“Well, that is impressive,” he says. “But it won’t matter. Once you’re gone, there won’t be anyone to follow up on those details.”
That’s when it sinks in. He really is planning to kill us.
It couldn’t end any other way, but hearing those words from a man holding a gun in your face is life altering. I won’t get to apologize to Rachel for all the lying and I won’t get to tell her what a great mom she is.
I won’t get to see how things work out between Journey and me.
Hopefully, there are enough clues in the trunk of Rachel’s car that Sydney or someone will be able to figure out who the killer is, though.
I’m determined to keep Mr. Roberts talking to delay the inevitable for as long as possible and hope Lysa comes through.
“I don’t get it, Mr. Roberts. I’ve wanted a dad my whole life. If you were really him, why didn’t you tell me or buy me a birthday present or something? Do you even know when my birthday is?”
“April sixth.” He props a ridiculous smile onto his lips. “I know everything there is to know about you. I even know that—still to this day—you sleep with a stuffed bunny that I gave you when you were just a tot.”
I suck in a ragged breath and try to look casual, but this guy is way too good. The ragged one-eyed bunny is the sole remaining relic from my childhood, but I had no idea where it came from. All Rachel ever said was that it was my favorite.
“Gross, Mr. Roberts. Creeping on people while they’re sleeping is some depraved crap,” Spam says.
“Spam, stay out of it,” Victor warns.
“Yes, Samantha. Stay out of it,” Principal Roberts says.
“You’re not smart enough to pull this off, Carl,” Victor says. “Thanks to Erin, your DNA is stored in a place where it will be found. I saw it. And by the way, I can confirm the fragile X gene. You wound up with your Uncle George’s shaky hands after all.”
I glance at Victor and wonder if he’s just making all this up. The fragile X stuff is news to me, but it’s having an impact. Mr. Roberts’s hand was a little shaky before, but now he places his other hand over the top of the gun to steady it.
“You and your investigations. You were always such a little pain,” Principal Roberts sneers right in my face. “Where’d you find it, in Laura’s lab?”
“That’s right,” I brag. “I found it and only I know where it’s hidden.”
He slips the zip-tie loops over my feet and up to my ankles, savagely wrenching the ends tighter. Pain shoots up my legs, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of even the slightest wince.
“I’m curious. You want us dead. But what do you get out of that?”
“It’s good news, bad news,” he says. “The good news is I retain my freedom. Once Vic showed up and started sniffing around, I knew I had to take action to insure nothing could come back on me. I might have to leave town and maybe even the country. But freedom … you really can’t put a price on that. So yeah, that’s the good news.”
He assembles another zip-tie loop set. “The bad news, of course, is I’m losing an esteemed friend from my high school days and a daughter. It doesn’t matter that no one knew about you. I knew. You held a special place in my heart, and it pains me to have to let you go.” He cradles the gun against his chest in mourning. “And all because of a stupid, surprise DNA test. I made it fourteen years without anyone looking at me for anything, then all of a sudden my DNA could wind up in a database. I need you to tell me where it is.”
“The FBI has it,” I say.
“If that were true, we wouldn’t be here right now. So, tell me and things will go easier on you.”
“Pound sand. I’m not telling you anything.”
“Go ahead and tell him, Erin,” Victor says. “It’ll be better if you do.”
Furious, I give Victor a laser glare.
He’s so confident that I slow down for a second and try to think like him. I get the vibe that he wants me to tell Principal Roberts that the samples are in our freezer at home because that’s where he put the ones we ran today. Is he forgetting that Miss Peters’s samples are in there, too? Of course, Mr. Roberts probably won’t go browsing into a bag of peas once he finds the first set.
Principal Roberts waves the gun in front of Spam’s face. Her eyes are the size of golf balls and they move and follow the gun, but she sticks her tongue out at him anyway.
“What’s it going to be, Erin? Hard, painful bullets, where I kill everyone else and make you watch? Or a nice, soothing, eternal, happy nap?”
“Fine!” I play the part, looking torn and broken. “In the freezer at my house.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Is your spare key still under the mailbox?”
I nod. Creepy. I guess that explains how he got into my room.