Elliot Grey Solves a Murder

Chapter 7: I give thanks for only doing this once a year

The weeks fly by.
There are no more deaths. And despite our best attempts no more hauntings. Jaden and Simon both attempt to wander off on their own, crying or having a furtive phone call. Of course we are watching from a distance. But to no avail. There is no sign of Lucas. And after abandoning the phone in the woods, none of us try to find it again, or go back to the beach. Lucas doesn't show his face again, presumably because after our last meeting he's understandably pissed at me. We pour over the footage and all we can determine as a friend group is that yeah he definitely confessed to the murders.
That doesn't do us any good when we don't know who or what he is.
Fallon moves into our dorm room permanently for protection, we assure him. We get a mattress from Con, despite Fallon's protestations that he doesn't need one. And he is honestly better than an alarm clock, there's no way I'm missing a morning run now.
And between my schedule and Fallon's fitness regime I'm an unwilling participant in, I'm beating the weight gain from the drugs. I'm not Arkham skinny anymore but I'm also not gaining weight badly either.
Before any of us know it, it's the weekend before Thanksgiving week, that is, we're all going to start flying out over the next few days.
"I've got visitation with my mom and former dad, in Beverly Hills, is anyone near Beverly Hills and would not mind getting a distress call?" I ask, leaning on Garth as we sit on our usual corner table at Lion Lodge. "I apparently can't go stay with my dad because custody but I can go visit friends."
"I'm sorry, we're in DC my dads are both working," Garth says, genuinely remorseful.
"We're in New York, the Parade and all," Jaden says.
"Las Vegas my mom's still playing there," Simon shrugs, "That's not that far."
"I don't think I can cross state lines, thanks though," I say.
"I'll be in Santa Monica," Fallon says, glancing up, "I'll ask my sister but she's not going to care you can crash in the guest room as much as you like."
"Based off the way my family holidays go I will be happy in the garage, and I will also try not to take you up on it," I say, quickly.
"I'm not worried about it," Fallon says, "I'm texting you my address you can show up."
"Thank you," I say, gratefully. I don't plan on using it but at least it is a lifeline. I'm used to both him and Garth being around, nearly 24/7 at this point, even if the former just uses the 'living with Elliot' privilege to video the latter and Elliot signing outloud to 'The Way I Loved You', and then blackmails us with the footage. That sounds very specific because it is. Garth and I had fun and while Fallon promises not to publish the video he hasn't promised to delete it either.
Due to the holiday everyone is leaving kinda early, most people cut out Friday night. Fallon leaves after our final practice. Garth and I both fly out Saturday morning, much to my relief. I didn't want to be in the dorm alone and I also didn't want to have to voice that.
My mom books my tickets home and sends it to me a week out, so I know what my flight is at least. Garth is leaving sooner than me, but I'd rather spend a few hours in SeaTac than hang out in the empty dorm. I don't voice this until we're off the island. We as a people agreed that texts are likely safe, but they may not be safe.
"For whatever reason Lucas is focused on you," Garth reasons, as we go through airport security having yet another suspicious conversation. "Perhaps it would be best to go to school in New York?"
"That's why I can't leave. What if he chooses someone else?" I ask, "At least now by not being bullied I can stop people from dying? I don't know. I admit it doesn't totally work but it's more than nothing."
"I don't know. I wish we could find some rational explanation," Garth says.
"We can't though. You saw the footage I got, his eyes were weird, plus he just vanished into the forest after Simon shot him," I say, glad the freshman left last week. I wouldn't want him being there without us and facing Lucas' wrath.
"I know," Garth sighs, "All right. I'll try to think as well. And text me if you need something all right?"
"I should be fine, should," I say, as I walk him to his gate, "It's one week."
"Even so," he hugs me around the shoulders, "I'll be on the group chat."
The group chat, Ghoul Hunters Anonymous, named by me because I think I'm funny, usually blows up every evening as we come up with new theories and watch more episodes of Buzzfeed Unsolved.
I go to my gate, updating my location because Fallon, on the fencing team group chat, demands all of our locations. If any of us are kidnapped he legit plans to be the first to know, in order to rescue us, for the good of the team.
I sit at my gate getting increasingly anxious, and trying to pay minimal attention to some of the 2,000 work out videos he's spammed us with. They only half distract me, but it's better than nothing.
It's a quick two hour flight and I inform my dad that if my plane falls out of the sky to see Fallon Granger he'll have found my remains and will be using them as example of what happens if you don't lift. And my dad replies with his daily 'no really, why do you think of these things' text.
When I land everyone is checking in on the group chats. I'm relieved to see that my ghoul friends all got home safe. I check the Forest Grove pages and there's no monster sights or disappearances, but that said usually that stuff doesn't show up too much anyway.
There's a car waiting for me at LAX, just like old times. I smile at my former father's chauffer and then crawl in the back, still staring at my phone. After the Pacific Northwest sunny California is balmy, and I'm quickly shedding my zip up sweatshirt, glad I'll be spending Christmas in New York.
My former family's house is nestled deep in the Beverly Hills, and after I get completely motion sick on the way out, I'm dropped off at the roundabout just in time to get my former dad's text that he and my mom will be back later tonight, they still haven't gotten on a plane from the east coast. That's standard behavior.
I let myself in with my old key, I haven't been to this house in over a year, we weren't even here last Christmas. That said I didn't miss this place. I felt awful last summer when I was here. And now there's tension that I'm just waiting for my former parents to show up. I'd rather get it over with.
I can hear a TV in the game room. I don't actually want to talk to anyone who might be here, but I also probably should find out who else is in the house. The chauffeur gets my bags, and I carry just my backpack, walking towards the back of the house.
Cole is slumped on a leather sectional, controller in hand, playing a video game. He glances up then back down when I come in.
"Hi," I say, stopping in the doorway. I'm not about to ask to join.
He says nothing, looking down at his hands.
"I got mom's text that they're gonna be late so—I'll be in my room do you want to order pizza or anything?" I ask.
He shakes head no, then glances up stairs.
"Wait—is Otto here?" I ask.
He nods.
"Shit—I'm probably gonna head out," I am not being alone in the house with him fuck this. Fuck this for real. "Do you want to come—?"
He shakes his head no.
Whatever fine don't talk to me.
I leave, walking directly out the front door and to the gravel drive. Fuck.
Two options. One I call my dad and tell him I want to meet while I wait. The problem with that is it's been like maybe five minutes and I don't want them using that in the custody battle against him. Two, use my lifeline and call Fallon, already. I feel like a wuss calling in a favor two minutes into the vacation but I'm comfortable there.
I text Fallon: is it chill if I come over and live in your garage or something? My parents aren't around and I think I shouldn't have to be in a five mile radius of my brother.
Him: yes dumbass. And you can come inside. Send me your location.
Me: I can get an Uber
Him: court case, Grey. A friend swinging by and picking you up is cool, just wandering away of your own accord is crazy.
Me: I am sending you my location
I go and sit at the end of the yard, watching the path nervously. Presumably Otto knows I arrived but like is he going to do anything? I'd say I'm paranoid but there's no way he doesn't blame me for Beau's disappearance. And he's already shown he'll stoop low enough to an out right hand to hand fight, which frankly I'd clearly lose.
I text my dad that I'm heading over to a friends and I tell my mom that I'm going to hang out at a friends till she gets in. She asks who and I tell her Fallon's name. She doesn't say anything after that. Fine.
I receive the shock of my life when Fallon doesn't pull up in a HumVee. It's an electric F150, but still, I genuinely was envisioning him in army surplus and some sort of military uniform.
"What?" He asks, leaning out the rolled down window. He's wearing his traditional tight white wifebeater, and practical if incredibly expensive aviator sunglasses.
I can't articulate all that outloud.
"No idea," I say, climbing in the passenger seat. The seats are slippery tan leather, and the car is impeccable clean, definitely cleaner than I am after spending all day in the airport.
"I told my sister I was bringing you back," he says, flatly. He's never mentioned parents I'm not a naturally curious person but now it occurs to me he lives with his sister.
"Thanks, for being a good wingman," I say, "I ah, didn't want to just hang out. Not without our parents home."
"I've done the custody thing," he says, eyes on the road, "My sister's twelve years older than me. She could have gotten out at eighteen but she refused to leave me. We were in court for a couple of years."
"Oh, I didn't know."
"That's why I'm telling you," he says, and I can tell he rolled his eyes. "There's old articles about it. They were using her movie money for drugs, stuff. Still took years to get free. We don't talk to them."
"Sorry," I say, not sure what else to say.
He shrugs, staring straight ahead at the road. California traffic is thick this time of the evening and the sun is setting gold over the palms.
"Like I told you before. She does modeling, nudes, art pieces, whatever. It's art. I don't give a fuck, it makes money and she was having fun for once. But that's why they call me that shit. Otto's one of the ones who did it. His half of our dorm, he has her pictures up on his wall."
"Oh fuck him," I say.
"Yeah," he shakes his head, "Figured Garth told you half this."
"No, he's too nice. He did say you were roommates cause I asked," I clarify.
"Right."
I let him focus on traffic, slumped in my own seat, genuinely relieved to be back with him. I'm dreading going home tonight already.
It's a Santa Monica beach house, not large, but tastefully expensive, with tons of windows, and a private beach access. Fallon parks in the drive and hops out, "Come see the water."
I obey, suspecting some sort of fitness trap. He realizes this because he laughs, "I am not going to push you in."
Reader, I think we both know this ends with him pushing me in.
But I'm gullible. So I kick off my trainers and he takes off his combat boots, and together walk down the white smooth sand towards the crashing surf. The sun is setting warm golden and red over the waves. We walk to the edge of water, so it barely washes up on our feet cooling the sand.
"Red at night, sailors delight. Red in the morning, sailors take warning," Fallon says.
"I am too gay to understand seafaring rhymes," I say.
"Are you implying Anne Reid was straight?"
"Why do you know all this stuff? Seriously?" I laugh.
"Back when my custody thing was happening. I—got it in my head that I was going to learn how to survive anything. Got interested in history, turns out there's a lot of queer people through time who have gone through all sorts of shit," he says, staring off at the waves, "Alexander the Great took, half the known world. He's considered one of the most successful military leaders of all time. The location of his tomb is one the great mysteries of like, history."
"Is that what you want to like—do? History?" I ask.
He looks over at me.
"I'm real dumb, I don't know what jobs are," I say.
"After I'm too old for the Olympics, yeah, probably teach," he says, "Or write. Plenty of stories don't get told properly because historians are just to misogynistic or homophobic."
"You have goals and stuff. How sexy of you," I say.
He cracks a smile, "What's your goal then? One goal?"
"Make it to Christmas. 'Therapy bullshit' we call it, in certain circles, every new day is a good one, making it through everyday is a victory," I say, looking over at him, as he fiddles with his glasses taking them off.
"Well there you go," he says, looking over at me too. Tentatively, he lays a hand on my shoulder.
"You know when I first met you. I thought you were a massive prick who was going to ruin my life. I think I might be right," I say.
He leans over and kisses me, yes on the lips. You know like straight people do. As he does it I realize I had zero reason to believe he's straight.
"I'm sorry I—," that's as far as he gets before I crawl into his arms, kissing him back. I may have mentioned how touch starved and utterly in need of affection I am. I sling both my arms around his neck and kiss him like I've been waiting for it all semester, not like I only just realized it was an option ten seconds ago.
Naturally he takes this opportunity to trip us both into the surf.
"I can't swim," I laugh, crawling ontop of him.
"So this is less than an inch of water, no swimming is required, Grey," Fallon says, letting me use him as a flotation device just to be safe.
Dripping wet and laughing, we walk back up to the house. Well. He walks. I crawl ontop his back to avoid drowning.
"There isn't any water anymore. I genuinely did not know you couldn't swim I thought it would be cute and honestly it was," he says, carrying me anyway.
"Why would you think I could swim? I can't do anything. We're lucky I walk and talk at the same time," I inform him.
This argument is still going on when his sister arrives, to the stage of him sending me YouTube videos on how not to drown in less than an inch of water. I didn't believe there were such things. Admittedly they are aimed at babies.
"Maddy, this is Elliot, Elliot, my sister," Fallon introduces us, drying my hair because I was looking at the 'swimming for babies' videos he sent me and deleting them.
"Nice to meet you," oh I recognize her now yeah she's in the magazines. Now I think she does cooking stuff or something? She's on TV too. Now she's wearing make up, but like normal around the house stuff, to look OK in pictures not TV made up, and a glittery Christmas sweater and faded blue jeans, barefoot, with pink polish on her toes and fingers.
"Nice to meet you," I say, politely, "I'm the one from his team who can't run and breath at the same time."
"I see," she says, but like she's definitely heard about me, "I've got cookies in the oven."
"You want me to hold a light?" Fallon offers. She's probably posting pictures of them online.
"No, I want you to give your friend dry clothes and go and wait for me by the TV," she says, in a sweet southern accent, swatting her little brother's head. "We're watching Christmas movies, Elliot how long do we have you?"
"Oh I'm very easy to kidnap," I say.
We go to the living room where a couple of fluffy little dogs have already claimed the sofa. Fallon sweeps one up to his lap and tugs me down sitting next to him. The order of the day is terrible hallmark Christmas movies, watched on mute while we guess what's happening. I assume the game is even better drunk but we're sober and it's hilarious. Maddy returns with a tray of fresh gingerbread cookies and cups of eggnog and cans of soda. I don't usually like eggnog but we use it as a drinking game for the movies.
I start out seated next to Fallon on the sofa but lose my resolve about halfway thorugh the first movie. I take my evening pills and they immediately hit, making me more groggy. I curl up, head on his belly, arms around his waist. He puts a hand through my hair gently.
I pass out for a few hours and wake up around midnight. The TV is still muted and I can hear Maddy's voice in the background. Fallon squeezes my shoulder, he looks half asleep too.
"The boys fell asleep, how about I drive Elliot around in the morning they're real tired? —oh it's no trouble don't you worry there is no need to send a car—they've been watching TV. I know they've been working real hard in school they're just tuckered out," Maddy's voice fades as she walks into the kitchen.
"My mom?" I mumble.
"Yeah," Fallon says, "You want to go?"
"Not at all," I sigh.
Maddy leans back in the room, "I talked to your mom, sugar, I told her you'd drive back in the morning."
"Thank you," I nod, groggily.
"Come on," Fallon slides an arm under me and helps me up. I know there's a guest room set up for me, because he leads me to it, and then I follow him directly back to his room. Shiny silver quilts, neat movie posters, and a very impressive bookcase it looks more like an elder college professor's library than a teenage boy's bedroom. Fallon for his part lets me follow him like a lost puppy, just tossing a pillow down for me. I curl up next to him snuggling my face into his side.
"If I sleep weird places I feel like I'm back in Arkham."
"You're good. Go to sleep. We have a beach run at five—kidding," he starts laughing as I sit up.
"Oh god you had me going," I sigh, curling up into his side, perfectly content.
It's six.
He gets up and runs at six am. He would make me join him but I scream and crawl under the bed and Maddy, laughing, takes sympathy on me.
"It's good for it! It needs regular activity," Fallon says.
"Leave your friend be you can see he's cryin'."
Fallon returns and showers, at which point I am more awake to watch him come out wrapped up in a towel with water glistening on his muscles.
"I can wake up for gay reasons," I say.
"I will weaponize that in the future," he says, throwing clean clothes at me.
We go downstairs to breakfast, where Maddy is already making busicutis, and bacon.
"Do you know how many carbs are in these?" Fallon asks, laughing as his sister stuffs one in his mouth.
"38 each biscuit enjoy," she says, giving him an empty plate.
"Your momma called, Elliot, I told her we'd swing you back by later," Maddy says.
"How much later can we make that?" I ask, getting my pills from my pocket. I'm wearing Fallon's clothes and am happily slumped at their kitchen table asking to be kidnapped. I am one step closer to my lifelong goal of being a kept woman.
"Couple of hours at least, we're fixing the chicken coop right? An extra pair of hands would help," Fallon says.
He forgets not only that I am negative help, but also that I can't hit a target two feet away from me, I'm not going to be able to hammer a nail.
Interestingly I learn that Fallon and his sister have pet chickens each of which have their own instagram account, but also that in any type of survival situation it's probably best that I just give up and die.
Maddy thinks it's hilarious, Fallon just loses all hope for me lasting the winter.
Unfortunately after lunch, which is Ubered Panera bread, we can delay my going home no longer.
"Your momma will be worried about you," Maddy says.
"Nobody wants them," Fallon says and I say the exact same time, "Nobody wants me ma'am."
I go back anyway. Maddy has a pink convertible, like a Barbie car, which she drives me home in. I don't want to subject the siblings to my family and ask to be dropped off at the drive.
"Text me," Fallon says, by way of farewell. I thank Maddy politely for the nice time, and then watch them drive off. Well that was a nice little break from reality.
And I expect going into the house to be so much worse than it is. Don't get me wrong. It's terrible. But I miss all the terrible parts because I am suffering severe mental damage from discovering that my dad dead ass got himself invited over as well.
I'm experiencing this significant and permanent damage to my psyche, while my mother comes and embraces me, and my dad nods at me with a look that says he is also disappointed in himself.
"It's so good to see you, baby, did you have fun at your friends?" My mother asks, petting my hair like I'm seven. Otto is glaring daggers at me. My dad is making a series of brief gestures that he also hates our lives. Cole is nowhere to be seen. My former dad already has a cocktail in one hand. Welcome home, Elliot.
"Yes, completely good, generic response, I need to take a shower," I say.
"Why?" My mother asks.
The shower is not here in this room is the reason, but I can't articulate that.
"Was that your boyfriend?" Otto asks.
As a reminder, I'm a Class A idiot, "Where?" I dead ass turn around and look, both dads choke on their drinks because I kill a couple of shots in.
"I didn't know you liked this band," my mother says.
Reader, I am wearing a Olympic fencing t-shirt.
Again, I'm an asshole, "I just got into them actually I'll send you some songs. I'm gonna go up and get changed now."
"So he doesn't have to talk to me?" Otto asks, like he actually asked a legitimate question.
"Let your brother get settled," my former dad says, severely enough to get him to shut up.
I beat it up the stairs, backpack in hand. My old room is mostly cleaned out but I open my duffel bag and pull out a plain t-shirt, folding up Fallon's and putting it in my backpack to give back to him later or to cuddle with cause I'm pathetic could go either way.
Since I in theory live here I figure I can just go and play video games or something. I walk to the rec room, scrolling through Maddy's instagram. I'm not on social media much but the videos of the chickens are delightful. Fallon is noticeably not in any of them. I follow her page for chicken and dog photos, I figure my therapist will condone that.
I text Garth and Jaden and Con: so when were you going to tell me I have a crush on Fallon?
Con: we thought you knew
Jaden: everybody else knew?
Garth: thank you for sharing with me I'm happy for both of you!
Me: next time I have a crush I'm asking that all of you tell me, thank you
Jaden: absolutely not
Con: are you kidding? Money was riding on this
Garth: glad to!
Fuck my friends for real.
I go down the hall to the second floor game room, hoping it'll be unoccupied. Nope, Cole is there, playing Mario Kart.
I say nothing, a little annoyed. I'm not leaving I do live here too. And I haven't done anything to him. I go and sit down on a chair, one leg over the arm, still looking at chicken videos.
Cole glances at me and doesn't say anything.
We sit in tense silence as only siblings can, for a half an hour. We'd hold out longer, him not offering to play, me staring at my phone, but my former father walks in.
"Ah boys, I was hoping to find you both in here," he says, closing the door.
We both shift, nervously, glancing quickly at each other.
"Now, as you're all well aware it has been a very hard year for all of us. But the two of you are brothers and I expect you to support each other. I will be speaking with Otto," he says, and I nod a little. "But the two of you have never really quarreled. Yet in therapy and otherwise you haven't said two words to each other. Now, I recognize both of you are going to feel hurt by myself, and your mother, which is something your mother and I are both working on. You know this. But I don't see what either you have against one another you're both victims in this. So, right now, without therapists you for some adolescent reason seem to resent, would you both tell me, what seems to be the matter?"
We both look at him and then at each other.
"I'm sorry I've been super—fucked up—," I begin.
"Language."
"I had some issues last year and before I know that. I realize I wasn't awesome and I don't blame you for not wanting to hang out with me much anymore," I say, lowering my head, "I'm sorry."
Cole glares a little.
"Cole, is that why you haven't wanted to spend time with your brother? Did he treat you poorly during his struggles with his health?' Our father asks.
Cole sighs, "At the start of this year he sent his creepy friend around to tell me and Otto both to stay away from him. So I am."
"What?" I ask, my blood running cold, "What friend?"
Our father looks at me. He knows I'm not a good liar, "Elliot did you not know your friend did this?"
"I swear on Freddy Mercury's soul I did NOT," I say, "Cole this is very important what friend?"
"Lucas, that kid you hung out with last year," he shrugs, "He said to stay away from you."
"Oh my god," I say, I think I'm having a panic attack, think Elliot think. You can do this. Be like—one of those brave gay people Fallon knows everything about. "No—no—Cole I did not tell him to do that at all I am so sorry—dad can we have a minute?"
"Are you both good?" He looks at Cole.
"Yeah, I mean I figured you told him to, didn't want me following you around," Cole says.
"Oh my god no," I breath.
"Why would he say that?" Cole asks.
"I have an idea," this is a panic attack. I sort for meds in my pocket, "Um—can we talk?"
"Dinner's in a couple of hours, I'll be out by the pool with Stephen," he says.
"Is your dad screwing my dad and our mom?" Cole asks, as soon as he leaves the room.
"I would not put it past him, look at me—did Lucas ever talk to you again did he say anything else?" I ask, taking meds and choking on them because I had no water, my survival skills folks.
"No," Cole frowns, handing me a can of sprite he was drinking. I nearly choke on the bubbles but get the meds down. "What is wrong with you? Did you and he break up or whatever?"
"Yes—also no—also yes—okay I have something to tell you," I say, kneeling on the floor, "You are now a member, of ghoul hunters anonymous."
"What?" He frowns.
"Lucas isn't my friend. And I have reason to believe he murdered those three kids last spring, and Otto's friend Beau," I say.
"What? I thought he just was missing," he frowns, "What about Otto's roommate? That fencing dude? We haven't seen him for weeks—?"
"Oh my god Fallon's fine he's in with me—,"
"What?"
"That part isn't important. We have reason to believe Lucas has killed them and he's stalking me somehow—okay I need to phone a friend," I say.
About twenty minutes later Ghoul Hunters Anonymous are having an informal zoom meeting. Garth is clearly in his bedroom with tasteful movie posters behind him, Jaden is by a pool, Fallon is clearly exercising in a home gym, Simon is still dressed as Solid Snake, way to commit, and is in the middle of the woods for some reason. Together, with videos that Garth has shared, we fill Cole in.
"Why is that kid dressed like Solid Snake?" Cole asks.
"Not important," the rest of us say.
"Next question?" Fallon growls.
"What is this guy then? How did you not realize he wasn't a student?" Cole asks.
"Hi, I'm an idiot," I say.
"We have no definitive answers, right now, but if he's already contacted you you're going to be in danger," Garth says.
"We don't know if this is limited just to the school, he could be in danger anywhere," Jaden says.
"Agreed, what he follows them to LA?" Simon asks.
"We need to catch him, once and for all," I say.
"I'm in, what's our plan?" Cole asks.
"Oh we don't have one," I say.
"Not that far yet I'm afraid," Garth says, "We haven't suceeded in drawing him out of hiding, and we don't know how much of our communication he listens in on. For a period until we confirmed supernatural forces we thought one of us could be tipping him off and I ran tests with members of the group."
"You did?"
"Is that why you stood me up for lunch?"
"When was this?"
"I thought you were just being flaky?"
"Did I miss this completely?"
"Apparently some of you missed it completely. But it didn't work he's not come out," Garth says.
"I have a way I think I can get him out. Since yes we don't know what he is or isn't privy to, I'm not going to tell you. Suffice to say I think I can get him to come around," Fallon says.
"You're not using yourself as bait," Jaden says.
"I am and it's fine I trust you guys to have my back," Fallon says.
"We need to do it when we have more back up, other people to call 911, we can't let him get us alone again, like on the beach, where we're running scared and he can get away," I say.
"Agreed, winter formal? Plenty of people will be around, and it's in a few weeks, which means we can recouperate over Christmas break and this won't affect the team at all," Fallon says.
"You can ignore him," Jaden says.
"I was going to, so what are we doing?" Cole asks.
"I'm the bait. All of you are killing a ghoul."