Covert Page 8

  "You didn't tell anyone? Not even after she chose Josh?"

  "I wanted to."

  "But?"

  "But nothing."

  I gulped. There was definitely something else he wanted to say. "Kyle," I prompted.

  "I thought about revenge. Of course I did. I thought of a million ways I could hurt her like she hurt me. Telling Josh, putting that photo of us on Facebook, the video of us on YouTube, well RedTube, but it wouldn't change anything." RedTube? They'd filmed themselves?

  Blinking hard to erase the previous revelation, I asked, "So you did nothing?"

  "Nothing but pretend I was fine. Everything went back to normal. I didn't treat her any differently to the way I did before we started screwing around. It drove her crazy, and I realised that was my revenge. She would forever think that I didn't give a shit. That I could get over her in an instant."

  I frowned. "You said you didn't want revenge?"

  He shrugged. "I didn't want to waste a lot of energy on it, so I moved on. It was just a bonus that it pissed her off so much. She didn't like that I wasn't pining for her, Mackenzie."

  "That doesn't sound like Courtney at all."

  He shrugged and stood up. "I guess you didn't know her as well as you thought then. I gotta go. See you tonight," he said and walked towards the door. I watched him step outside and turn around. "We okay? I don't want you to be pissed at me."

  "I'm not pissed. We're cool."

  Kyle left, and I slumped into the cushions behind me. I couldn't tell if he was being honest or not. He was a bad liar, but I had found out things today that shocked me. Courtney was a cheat and Kyle was angry and bitter.

  I was left wondering if I really knew any of my friends at all.

  Chapter Ten

  Kyle had called me no less than nine times since he left my house yesterday. He was desperate to make me believe he had nothing to do with Josh and Courtney's death. I wanted to believe him, and deep down I did. He would never hurt anyone, but there was this other side of him that was a complete stranger to me. I couldn't help wondering if that side of him could have done it. If he'd snapped.

  I pulled up outside the cabin, and my hands started to shake. There had to be something somewhere the police missed because I was going crazy letting a little doubt slip into my mind. I was hoping to find something that would point towards Tilly's dad, but I didn't know what.

  Blake's truck sat in the driveway, but that wasn't surprising. He didn't really have anywhere to go to get away from his family. I was surprised that he and his mum had such a distant relationship. They needed each other now more than ever.

  I walked straight into the cabin, ignoring the almost painful beating of my heart and sick, metallic taste in my mouth, and looked around for Blake. The place was a mess. Everything had been turned upside down. Photographs were lying face down on the side table; the coffee table was now against the far wall and the sofas were clearly out of place. What on earth...

  I cleared my throat as I spotted Blake by the window, staring out. His head snapped around in my direction, and he arched his eyebrow. "What're you doing here?" he asked.

  Not letting him intimidate me, I shoved my hip out and stood straight. Trying to prove to myself that Kyle isn't the killer. "What are you doing here?"

  "This is my cabin. Your turn."

  "Looking for..." I trailed off, frowning. What was I looking for? I slumped. "I don't know. Anything, I guess."

  Blake cocked his head to the side. "You're looking for a murderer. What makes you think you'll find something dozens of police officers and detectives couldn't?"

  "They don't have as much to lose as I do."

  He sighed. "So dramatic."

  "What happened here?" I asked, ignoring his comment.

  "Police were searching for the murderers clothes. They have the knife, was one of ours."

  "They do?" The knife! There must be fingerprints on the knife! "And?"

  He shrugged. "And they have the knife. We all used the knives...and most of the utensils actually. Doubt they'll find much there."

  Could we all have used the same one? I knew we took it in turns chopping everything for the enchiladas but what were the odds of us all touching the same knife? I tried to think back, but a lot of that night was a blur. Josh had brought two knives from home. We definitely all used a knife at one point, even if it was only to pass it to someone else, but the same one?

  Blake smirked, lighting up his striking blue eyes. "So what have you got planned then? Sniffer dogs?"

  "Are you going to help me or what?"

  "Did I offer?" he replied, frowning.

  "Fine, Blake, just stand there and look out of that window at nothing. Pretend I'm not here."

  "Hard to do when you're talking to me."

  "What the hell is your problem?" He was being an arsehole. "What's happened since yesterday?"

  "Nothing," he grunted. "Just pissed off with all this shit. I want to know who killed my little brother, and I want all your little friends to stop looking at me as if I did it."

  "And I want to know who killed my friends."

  "Friend," he corrected. "You hated Josh, remember?"

  I gritted my teeth. "Fine. I want to find out what happened to my friend and her boyfriend. Better?"

  Ignoring me, he said, "Where do you want to look first?"

  My head spun. "You're helping now?"

  "Don't make me change my mind."

  I shrugged. "I've no idea. You know this place better than me. If he or she didn't use the doors then what about the windows?"

  "They were all closed. Properly closed from the inside."

  "Yes, I know that, Blake."

  "Then why are you looking there?"

  I wanted to punch him. He was pushing my buttons, and I was seconds from snapping. Why did no one take this as seriously as I did? I needed to check, just in case. "Just do your own fucking thing!"

  Blake's eyebrows shot up in shock. Before he could reply, I left the lounge and walked into the kitchen. The kitchen was the most logical place for someone to enter, or at least exit. The murders happened in the kitchen and whoever did it would need a quick escape.

  I wanted to run back to my car, drive home as fast as I could and hide in bed, but I couldn't allow myself that weakness. I didn't want to stop and think. I didn't want to face the reality of what happened.

  "Mackenzie?" Blake said. I ignored him and shoved at the little window over the sink. The handle was down, and the window didn't budge. I was hoping the latch was broken, and it would open. The police would have tried that already of course.

  "What?" I replied, shoving the wooden frame with as much force as I could muster. "Damn it!" I slammed my palm down on the glass in frustration. "Why won't it just fucking open!" I shouted.

  "Stop." His strong hand gripped the top of my arm and pulled me back. "It's not going to magically open, Mackenzie, and you're just going to end up hurting yourself!"

  I held my finger up as another thought sprung to my mind. "Maybe I'm starting in the wrong place. I should find the murderer before I find out how they did it. I mean nothing is really impossible, right?"

  "Okay, Jonathan Creek, where are we starting?" If I was Jonathan Creek I would have figured it out by now. I had no clue.

  "A hide out." I turned on my heel and walked out of the cabin, rubbing the ache in my chest. The killer would need somewhere around to hide in, to wait for the perfect moment. I was sure of it.

  Blake's footsteps thudded behind me, crunching dried leaves on the ground. "You don't even know where you're going," he said.

  "No one knows where they're going before they first go there," I replied, power walking ahead. "If you're just here to annoy me then please turn around now."

  "You can't just go wandering off into the woods by yourself."

  I stopped and turned around. "Why do you care?" He blew hot and cold all the fucking time. I had no idea where I stood with him. I just wanted one bloody thing to be simpl
e.

  He was right behind me, eyes burning into me. I couldn't figure him out. Blake was a mystery and a pretty annoying one. "Got nothing else to do," he whispered, giving me goose bumps.

  "Liar."

  His eyes narrowed, clearly disliking how I challenged him. "I want to find the killer, too. No one else can give me answers, so I figure why not tag along with Detective Mackenzie and see where it leads me. Besides, I can't stand being at home." His voice lowered as he confessed living with his mum was unbearable. I could only imagine what it was like for both of them.

  "I'm sorry."

  He smiled half-heartedly and shrugged one shoulder. "What are you looking for?"

  "A shed or cabin," I replied. "Anything the killer could have been hiding in."

  "Are you expecting to find bloody clothes and the murderer's ID too?"

  "Hoping, not expecting. There any more places like the one you showed me?"

  "A couple more." He walked past me, headed in a different direction to where I was originally going.

  He was helping? "Do you still know the way?"

  "Please," he said, turning his head to smirk at me. "I'm a man."

  I followed him, weaving around the trees. The deeper we walked into the woods the darker it became. "Are you sure this is the way?" I asked, wrapping my arms around myself.

  "What, do you think I'm leading you into the middle of nowhere to slit your throat?"

  "That's not funny, and I don't think that's what you're doing. I think you've gotten us lost. No man would ever admit to that, so I think you're taking us around in circles, hoping we'll eventually come across the cabin again."

  He sighed. "Just ahead you'll see a crappy old shack. We found it years ago when we were looking for somewhere to play with our water pistols."

  "You needed shelter for that?"

  "We needed a base. Every good military operation has a base."

  I grinned, imagining Blake as a child, running around and playing fantasy games. We started walking again, slower this time. "Quite the imagination you have."

  "Had," he corrected. "Life screws you over eventually."

  "Pessimist."

  "Hopeless optimist."

  "How far does the river go?" I asked.

  He shrugged. "How should I know? Far, I assume."

  "That's a lot of water for evidence to be dumped in. And a lot of forest, too. Do you think they've hidden it all somewhere? The clothes, I mean."

  "No, they're probably doing their weekly shopping in them," he replied dryly.

  I narrowed my eyes. "You're a dick."

  "The forest is huge, you could lose anything in there, the ground is covered in leaves and crap so you could probably bury a lot in there, too."

  "Great. We have no hope." Finding anything seemed impossible. If Blake was right, and he knew this area better than me, the murderer could have already hidden the evidence in any part of the miles of woodland.

  He pointed ahead. "There you go."

  I frowned, but as I took another step I could just about see the side of something wooden. "We're here?"

  "No, I took you--"

  "Alright, thank you!" I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath, "Sarcastic bastard!"

  Blake grinned wide, flashing his teeth. He was a little too good at shoving everything aside. I could do it well enough to function but Blake could do it well enough to be himself.

  We walked closer, and I stopped. No way am I going in there! The whole thing looked as if it was about to collapse. It looked like the type of place you screamed for someone not to go near in a horror film.

  "It's creepy," I said as a cold shudder ripped through my body.

  "It's an old shed, Mackenzie! What do you think it's gonna do?" I ignored him and nodded towards the door half hanging off the top hinge. Blake's smile grew. "Ladies first."

  "Shut up and go." I didn't understand how he could continuously make jokes when what we were doing was serious. "Unless you're scared?"

  He rolled his eyes. "Reverse psychology doesn't work on me. This is your crusade. You lead the way, Detective."

  "Fine." I stood taller, trying to fool myself I was braver than I felt. "But for the record, you have no balls at all, princess." I wasn't sure what his reaction would be, whether he would continue the cocky attitude or bite back, but I didn't bother waiting around to find out. I walked ahead, closer to the run down shed.

  I gulped. Cobwebs plagued the top of the doorway but the bottom half was clear. It looked as if someone had been here recently. I peered inside, but the dust-clad windows prevented much light from streaming inside.

  I looked over my shoulder and was met by an incredibly smug looking Blake. "Want me to go first, sweets?" he asked.

  "Is that a genuine offer?"

  He bit the inside of his mouth, pretending to think, even though we both knew he already knew the answer. He sighed. "Move out of the way." Swiping the remaining cobwebs away with his hand, he stepped inside.

  "What's in there?" I whispered.

  "Nothing for you to whisper for."

  I took a deep breath, gritting my teeth. "What's in there, Blake," I hissed.

  "Sod all. Come in."

  He could have been lying, and I would walk in there to see a skeleton or something, but for some reason I trusted him. Blake drove me crazy with his attitude, but I knew he wouldn't put me in any danger. Well, not real danger at least, he would probably let me do something like walk into a room with a skeleton to scare the shit out of me.

  I took a small step and was halfway through the door. It smelt musty inside and my nose tingled. Blake wiped the cracked glass with his hand, creating a hand length window. A slit of light poured into small room, giving enough so we could see.

  The inside of the shed was filled with dust, mud, and more cobwebs. The floor was littered with empty packets of crisps and bottles of drink. I frowned. "We're not going to find anything, are we?"

  Blake scratched the back of his neck. "If you want to continue looking for someone else, I'm with you."

  "But?" I prompted, sensing he had more to say.

  "But I think it was one of your friends."

  I gulped and shook my head. "No, it couldn't have been. They wouldn't."

  "That's what they want you to believe, yes."

  "No. I need to keep searching. Check the use by dates on the litter, some might be recent."

  "And that will prove?"

  I don't know! "Please, Blake," I said, pleading with him. I knew I was looking for a needle in a haystack and searching rubbish was plain ridiculous, but I had to find someone else. I couldn't accept it was one of my friends.

  He held his hands up. "Alright, let's look at rubbish."

  I smiled. "Thank you."

  He knelt down and picked up a faded packet of crisps. I wanted to tell him that the bag had clearly been here a long time, but he was doing me a favour. "I hope your friends appreciate you."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "You're doing everything you can to prove their innocence - innocence you don't even know is there - including sifting through crap. What're they doing for you?"

  "I don't do things to get something in return."

  "No, but perhaps you should ask yourself if it's appreciated a little more often."

  "I know it is," I replied and picked up a crumpled biscuit packet. Gasping, I shoved the packet towards him. "Blake, look!" There was blood on it. Not a lot, but I hoped against all the odds that it was the real murderer's blood. A frown slipped onto his forehead as he studied it.

  "How long do you think it's been there?" I asked.

  "How the hell should I know?"

  "Well, does it look like old blood?"

  He shrugged. "I dunno!"

  "I think it looks newish." He smirked and shook his head to say of course you do. "This isn't funny! Why aren't you taking this seriously?"

  "Because you've got us sifting through crap! I'll humour you and we'll take this to Wright." He sto
od up. "Now come on before you find a dead bird and accuse that of--"

  "Alright, thank you." I turned on my heel and stomped outside. Keeping my cool with him was hard, even when he was trying to help. Blake seemed to know all the right buttons to push. He pushed them every single chance he got.

  "Mackenzie?"

  "Yeah."

  "What will you do if one of them is the killer?"

  "I honestly don't know. Will you help me? None of them seem overly enthusiastic about looking themselves." And I had no idea why. "I need someone," I whispered.

  He frowned. "Are you gonna cry? I don't do well with hysterical women, remember?"

  "I'm not going to cry. Not yet."

  "You've set a timer?"

  "When this is all over. Until then, I'm strong Mackenzie."

  "Your friends really are lucky."

  I shrugged. It's what anyone would do for the people they cared about. "So will you help?"

  The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, and he did a little bow. "I'm at your service, Detective Keaton."

  I breathed out sharply, relieved that I had someone to go through all this with, even if that person drove me insane most of the time. I knew that together we could figure it out. "Thank you."

  Chapter Eleven

  We arrived back at Blake's house, and I could tell he wanted nothing more than to leave again. He walked slowly into the lounge. His mum sat on the same chair she had spent Josh's entire wake on. The TV was on, but it wasn't being watched. She stared into space.

  "Hi, Eloise," I said, looking at Blake for help.

  He shook his head. This empty shell was normal for her now. "Let's go up to my room."

  I took a quick glance back at her as I followed Blake out of the room. Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken. Her hair was slick with grease and tied into a messy ponytail on top of her head. She looked as if she had checked out days ago and left her body behind.

  "Is she okay?" I asked as we reached the top of the stairs and were out of her way, not that she would have heard me if I had asked him right in front of her.

  "Not really." He pushed the door open and nodded, gesturing for me to go in first. He can be a gentleman!

  His room was plain and bare. A dull light blue covered the walls and there was nothing hanging from them to personalise it. The only furniture was a double bed, bedside table and wardrobe. A flat screen TV hung from the wall opposite the bed, but it looked old, probably second hand when they replaced another one in the house. I imagined Eloise buying a new one for the lounge and saying 'Oh we can put the old one in Blake's room'. It reminded me of a cheap hotel room.