The Psychopath Next Door

20: New Year, New Me

Ryan Kane.

Jessica Sneider. Gareth Walker. Mike Richardson. Blake Richardson. Astrid Baker.

Calla recited the names in her head as she waited for Cooper in the driveway, her breath drifting lazily in the cold air.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it grudgingly, her irritation growing when she saw the name on the screen: Cory Michaels.

Of course it was Cory Michaels.

He was probably asking if she needed a lift to Jessica's, which was considerate and helpful and annoying in every way. She knew she probably should have accepted his offer...after all, she needed to keep him close. But she didn't have the patience. Just seeing his name pop up on her screen filled her with loathing.

He'd left her alone after their last encounter, giving her space to grieve, to process the new routine of her life sans Rachel. But with school looming around the corner, Cory had apparently determined the time for mourning was passed. He'd redoubled his efforts to see Calla, texting her without fail every morning and night to check in on her. Had her situation been different, she might have been flattered.

But her situation wasn't different. She had better things to do than amuse Cory Michaels with inane conversation about what she was doing and what he was doing and how they could do those things together. But shutting him out entirely wasn't an option, either. She still needed to get her hands on those autopsy reports. And if there was even the slightest chance that manipulating Cory could give her what she needed, she had to do it.

She just couldn't do it tonight. Her temper was too short. Her nerves too frayed. She wasn't in any state to flirt with anyone, least of all Cory.

Sighing, she typed back a quick response before shoving her phone back in her pocket. She watched impatiently as a red Mustang pulled out of the apartment complex a hundred yards down the road. She tapped her foot once. Twice.

There has to be a way to get those reports, Calla thought, unable to help herself. She thought of little else these days. If they aren't in Cory's house...then they must be at the station.

Cooper's obnoxious horn interrupted her train of thought. He threw the car in park in the middle of the road, not bothering to pull into the driveway, and smirked at her through the window. She rolled her eyes and stomped over, ripping open the passenger door.

"I think you're getting more annoying, if that's possible," she snapped, ducking into the car.

"Uh-uh." He held his hand over the seat, blocking her path. "You gotta sit in the back."

She stared at him. The cold air bit at her exposed midriff, causing her to shiver. "The back?"

He fidgeted uncomfortably, wiping his hands on his jeans. "We kinda got another stop to make."

"What stop?"

"Vincent needs a ride."

Calla let out a long sigh, leaning out of the car to lift her face to the inky sky. She closed her eyes. "Cooper."

"I know, I know. It was last minute."

"Let me guess. He was supposed to get a lift from Astrid and she bailed?"

Silence from inside the car. Calla leaned back down to pin Cooper with a look.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"The same Astrid who may or may not be a serial killer?"

"Even more reason to help him out," Cooper argued, giving her a significant look. He was really fidgeting now, his fingers playing with the buttons of his pullover. "We can't leave those two alone together! I know I said I didn't want you near him, but—"