Wicked Games: Book Two of The Psychopath Series

Chapter 29

The drive back was quiet only with the noise of cars swooshing by. Isabeth kept the Rover at an average steady speed of fifty-five. Faith, whom left Red Rhapsody with Santiago after he put the box in the truck, sat in the passenger seat with her head back and her eyes closed. Isabeth knew Faith wasn't sleep; she was playing possum. The oldest trick in the book, close your eyes if you don't want to talk. Isabeth didn't want to talk either, she was processing; processing everything Santiago told them. Fiona was hiding out for five months. Maybe Faith was right this trip was useless. They were still at square one. Hopefully the box had more to offer than the man.

Isabeth sat on her walnut wood frame bed cluttered with everything from Fiona's box (worn clothes, books, magazine, chewed on pencils, and jewelry) holding a picture. She inspected every inch of the photograph, detecting every detail. The white blinding Austrian snow outlining every landmark, the murky sunless sky was forgiven for their blazing smiles lite up their surroundings. Four rounded snowmen speckled around them. Gavin's goggles, Kevin's scarf, Malachi's cap, Isabeth's belt, Harper's headband, Troy's gloves, Faith's sunglasses, and Fiona's necklace decorated Frostie's newly formed family.

It was winter break. They were juniors. Faith stood in the middle holding up her pink skis. Gavin's head rested on her shoulder with his arms squeezing around her waist. Fiona and Harper kissed their snowman on the cheek trying not to melt the snow with their warmth; while Malachi and Kevin propped themselves up on each side of their snowy friend. There she was, Isabeth found herself. A girl she hadn't seen, a girl she hadn't been in months. Sitting on the cold white powder brimming from ear to ear, carless, calm and regretless content next to her closer than a best friend, Troy. It was the beginning of the end.

Faith plopped down on the bed, "Maya was a pain in my ass but the girl could take a picture."

"She could do a lot of great things." Isabeth defended her dead friend and Faith's roommate.

"Don't elaborate." Faith flicked a stray blonde strand out her face.

Isabeth put down the picture and looked at all the things on the bed thinking, looking for more information, something they couldn't guess for themselves. A lead.

Isabeth flipped through a leather bind sketchbook filled with pencil drawings, some colored some not. "I'm glad she still sketched." She donned a half-smile handing Faith the sketchbook. She was a glass half full kind of girl, always looking for the light leaking in the blacked-out, nail-shut window.

"I'd wear that." Faith pointed at a camo pencil skirt.

"You'd wear what." Dalton shuffled his bare feet on the hardwood.

"She would've been a hit at fashion week." Faith said closing the sketchbook before Dalton could take a peek.

"Why was she in Fashion school anyways." Dalton sat on the edge of the bed." He nudged Faith with a book.

Faith slapped him upside the head with the book.

"Ah! Headache! Remember" He stroked his head hoping it wouldn't leave a mark or cause further pain.

"Maybe, it'll help it go away." Faith snickered.

"We got it from Santiago." Isabeth answered his question

"Santi-who?" He resisted the urge to nudge Faith with the book again, his head still stung.

"A guy Fiona was staying with before she came back." Isabeth rubbed her strain, tired eyes.

"She was hiding out in the hood." Faith clarified sitting up throwing the useless objects in the box on the floor.

"Hiding from who?" He asked puzzled.

"From the person that killed her." Faith chucked a marker at him. "Get off the short bus."

"Ya'll went to New York!" Dalton flung the marker back, "I told ya'll I wanted to go."

"You were just going to slow us down." Faith picked up a book out the box. "Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston."

"That's my book." Isabeth gasped having not seen it in years. She lent it to Fiona to do a paper for sophomore year English. She asked Fiona for it back but Fiona insisted she returned it like promised. Isabeth snatched the book out Faith's hand with little resistance from Faith.

Faith wasn't one for reading. Although she did like Dante's Divine Comedy but if it wasn't required reading she'd never crack open the epic poem. She just didn't possess the will to sit still reading words about someone's life when she could live her own life. "How do you know it's not Fi's?" Faith collapsed back onto the bevy of turquoise, Egyptian cotton encased pillows.

"My name's on the inside cover." Isabeth fanned through the pages; a card dropped in her lap.

Dalton lunged for the piece of paper before the girls. "Karl Yellman. Private Investigator." He read. "Why would Fiona need an investigator?"

"Probably, to find info on the guy she'd been hiding from." Faith scrolled through the countless missed text she accumulated during the day. They were all from Elle, her sister-in-law. 12:15: The cake tasting in tomorrow. 1:32: We have an appointment. 2:08: Faith, are you showing up to Tuesday's? 3:46: Are you ignoring me? 4:19: Text me back!!!

"We should go see this Yellman dude tomorrow." Dalton gestured to Faith.

Faith stretched over the bed dropping her phone in her Fendi satchel, "I have Matron of Honor duty tomorrow." She rolled her eyes sinking her head down on the pillows.

"Then we should go." He looked at Isabeth. "I know you not busy tomorrow afternoon."

"I'm not." Isabeth looked at him strangely wondering how did he know but then again he had been stuck at her home all day and snooping was his specialty. "I guess we could."

Timid knocks tapped against Isabeth's bedroom door. "Isa." His big brown eyes were heavy, his shoulders dropped down. "We need to talk." Alex looked at Dalton with eager ears perched out. "Privately."

What does Alex need to talk to Isabeth about?

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