Cupid's Guide to Murder

Chapter 32: Strangers Again

"Reports say that 17-year-old Justin Anderson has been taken into custody for police questioning regarding his alleged involvement in the murder of former Fairwood student, Natasha Ryan."

The television screen filtered out as Justin's face replaced the newscaster's face. Dark bags hung underneath his empty sea-green eyes, and his normally clean-shaven face filled with scruff. His blonde hair was tousled, as if he hadn't brushed it yet. Officer Davies followed him close behind, and camera flashes from other reporters surrounded them.

"Mr. Anderson! Were you responsible for the death of Natasha Ryan?"

"Why did you use Killer Cupid as an alias?"

"Was there anyone else involved? Were you planning on using the guide to murder to target someone else?"

The television screen faded to black. Cal, the owner of Cappucino Express, had turned the TV off, shaking his head. "Last thing I need for my business is news of some murderer running through," he grumbled. He hit the tiny bell on the front counter. "Order Number 67, your chocolate pastry and caramel latte are ready!"

"Hey man, I was watching that!" Some guy complained from his booth. A few other voices mumbled in agreement.

Cal just glared at him. "Order Number 67. Going once, going twice."

It was easy for Cal. All he had to do was turn the coffee shop TV off to turn his thoughts off.

For me, it wasn't that easy. Images replayed in my head like a broken record; flashes of Natasha surrounded by a pool of blood. Justin looking at me with his ghostly, opaque eyes. I could see how the media would twist this — Fairwood's resident golden boy, tainted with the blood on his hands.

This time, a web of deceit hadn't been spun by power-hungry reporters. It was Justin who had repeatedly warned me to stay out of the mess.

I blamed the bile rising in my throat on the overly sweet scent of warm vanilla sugar and cinnamon buns.

"Murder and coffee don't mix. I can get why Cal's acting like that."

I looked up at the person who had spoken.

Willow cleared her throat, waving awkwardly. Her face was makeup-free today, cheeks flushed. "Can I talk to you?"

"I don't think there's anything to say," I said coolly. "Besides, I'm studying." That was a lie. My books were untouched, and finals were the last thing on my mind.

"Just two minutes. Before the guilt eats me alive," Willow pleaded.

I laughed, shaking my head. "I didn't even know you were capable of feeling guilty."

"Yeah, well, me neither." Willow sat in the seat across from me, ignoring my protest. "I just... I'm sorry."

It was so faint I almost missed it.

"For sleeping with my boyfriend or not telling me?" My voice was bitter.

She flinched, and I knew my words had gotten to her.

"Both. Everything. Look, I didn't just hook up with him because I'm some raging bitch who was out to ruin your life. I liked Justin."

That was news to me.

"For years," she added. "And I hated you for it. I hated pining over this guy who didn't even see me because he only saw you." She let out a small laugh. "It's so stupid when I look at it now. Especially when I saw his true colors."

My mouth felt dry. "What do you mean?"

"After Natasha saw us... he seemed so angry. I never saw that side of him. He got this crazed look in his eyes, the kind a predator gets before it goes for its kill." Her eyes glazed as if she recalled the memory. "Honestly? It scared me."