Literally Offed Read online

“Hey,” he answered.

  “I think Dylan’s alibi is false,” I blurted, settling on a nearby concrete bench. I eyed a couple walking by, but they didn’t seem to notice me or what I’d said.

  “Why?”

  “Chloe’s lied to protect him before, so what if she’s covering for him again? Remember when he asked if we’d already talked to Chloe before he would give his alibi?”

  “Yeah…” I could practically hear Alex putting it all together through the phone.

  “And then he and Liam shared that look, as if they had an understanding? It was almost as if Dylan was silently asking Liam to go with whatever he said.”

  “Liam did seem to stumble on that alibi,” Alex reasoned.

  “Because Dylan’s the murderer,” I said, cutting through the silence Alex had left while he thought.

  19

  “He had the motive,” I said, standing to pace outside student services, holding my phone close, so I didn’t have to speak loudly for Alex to hear me. “They ruined his baseball career by getting him kicked off the team. He hated them.”

  “It would also explain why he not only went for James, but Matt as well,” Alex added.

  “Right. If we can prove that his alibi was false, would that be enough to bring him in for questioning?”

  “Definitely. I think we need to pay him a visit, see if we can find out what he was really doing.” There was a shuffle of noise on the other end and it sounded like Alex was on the move. “I’m coming to get you. Where are you at?”

  I scanned the mostly empty walkways surrounding me. “On campus. North end.”

  “Got it. Meet me at the corner of Madrona and Main in five minutes. I’m going to call Dylan and see if he’ll meet us and where.”

  Hanging up, I started walking north. A few minutes later, Alex pulled up in his truck, leaning over to push open the passenger door for me. I scooted inside and glanced over at him. His eyebrows were pulled tight over his dark eyes.

  “What? He won’t meet with us?” I asked.

  “He will, but he wants us to come to his apartment.”

  I cringed. That didn’t sound good.

  Alex seemed to share my feelings, because he said, “If he has any idea we’re onto him, this could be a trap.”

  My stomach flipped uncomfortably at the statement. “Well, we have each other. Two against one.” I shrugged.

  Alex laughed. “Or, you know, the fact that I’m carrying a gun.”

  I dipped my head to one side in concession. “That too.”

  Dylan’s apartment was located on the opposite side of campus as mine, but it still only took us a few minutes to get there. I caught sight of Alex’s gun holster, strapped onto his belt as he adjusted his shirt over it.

  We walked up to the second floor, apartment six, in silence. I didn’t know about Alex, but my mind was working all too fast, going through scenarios and questions and worries and fears to put a coherent sentence together.

  Alex’s knuckles rapping on the door kicked me out of my head. The door swung open and Dylan stood before us.

  “Come on in.” Stepping back, he made room for us to enter.

  The smell of ramen noodles permeated the air of the sparsely decorated apartment. Not a huge surprise given two college guys lived here. There was a large television across from a faded couch in the small living room, dishes piled up in the sink, and what appeared to be two bedrooms from what little I could see through the opened doors.

  “Uh… we don’t have a table. Mind sitting here?” He pointed to a tall eating bar on the other side of the kitchen. Scooting a few piles of books and paper aside, he made room for us, staying in the kitchen so we were facing him.

  Alex and I climbed onto two tall bar stools while Dylan paced before us. I tucked my feet onto one of the chair rungs, resisting the urge to wiggle my foot as an outlet for my anxiety.

  “So you’re getting close, huh?” he asked, finally, looking up at us. “Was I right? It was Matt, wasn’t it?”

  My eyes narrowed as I studied Dylan. Did he really not know about Matt or was he just trying to fool us?

  “He’s one of the people we’re watching,” Alex said.

  Dylan nodded. “Cool, cool. So what can I help you with?”

  I wracked my brain for a way to broach the subject of Dylan’s alibi without cluing him into the reason for our visit.

  Beating me to it, Alex said, “Besides Matt, can you walk us through the guys who might’ve had reason to want James out of the picture.

  The next few minutes felt like hours as Dylan went through every intricate detail of the inner workings of the frat. He remained adamant that Kevin was innocent, but had no trouble pointing the finger at the rest of the frat. My stomach flipped as he even brought up the dean of students holding meetings with James over the past few months.

  “None of that matters, though, because Matt had to have been the one to do it,” he said as he finished.

  I almost let out a scoff of surprise. He was still pretending he didn’t know what had happened to Matt? Did he really think we wouldn’t know?

  “You seem to know an awful lot about the fraternity for someone who didn’t make it in.” Alex crossed his arms, probably thinking just the same indignant questions I was.

  Dylan’s expression froze for a split second, but he recovered into a sly smile. “I pay attention… know what I’m looking at, or whatever Thoreau said.”

  The high-pitched laugh he let out after made me grit my teeth almost as much as the butchered quote. Doubt began to cloud my earlier certainty. Not only was that the poorest excuse for a quote I’d ever heard, but this guy sure didn’t seem like the kind to notice the two, two, two pattern in the forest where the knife was hidden. Gregory had just told me Ethan overdosed because he missed thirteen of the Thoreau questions. If Dylan had been in danger of doing the same, wouldn’t he have to miss almost as many?

  Something wasn’t adding up. I watched Dylan carefully. It was possible he was pretending not to be familiar with Thoreau to throw us off his trail.

  Alex and Dylan continued to chat about all of the research Dylan did during rush week to learn so much, but I decided to take Dylan’s own—albeit poorly worded—advice and pay attention to what was around me.

  Besides the old plates and dirty pans littering the kitchen, there didn’t seem to be much of anything I could use there. I turned my gaze to the papers littering the countertop next to the place Dylan had cleared off for me. It was difficult to appear as if I were still following the conversation while glancing down at the pile of bills and opened mail next to me. So much so, in fact, I felt the need to take a break or I was going to have some sort of dizzy spell.

  “Can I use your bathroom?” I asked, interrupting the guys.

  Dylan looked up at me, blinked. “Uh, yeah. Straight through there.” He pointed to the room to our right.

  I slid myself off the stool, then headed into Dylan’s bedroom. It was fairly clean—actually, organized was a better word, the place had an interesting sweaty socks and body spray smell to it—with a few shirts piled on the bed and a stack of books tottering on the small desk. The door was open, so I couldn’t exactly snoop, but I slowed my steps as I passed by his desk. There was a calendar pinned onto the wall. I squinted at it.

  And my breath caught in my throat.

  My heart hammered loudly in my ears as I stared at the same jagged handwriting from the journal we’d found under James’s truck. Looking at the other papers pinned around it only confirmed my terrified suspicions. Flustered, I scrambled into the bathroom and realized it was a Jack and Jill bathroom just like at my apartment. I shut both doors then turned on the faucet, my fingers slipped clumsily on the chrome as I did so. The me reflected in the mirror was breathing heavily and wearing shifty, worried eyes.

  I’d been wrong to assume the journal was James’s just because it was under his truck. Suddenly everything made perfect sense. Dylan had been studying the fraternity, writing down e
verything he knew about in the months since he almost died of alcohol poisoning. He must’ve dropped the journal while he was cutting the brakes on James’s truck that night. I thought back to the sneaking shadow we’d seen silhouetted in the fabric of our tent that night. It had been Dylan sneaking around.

  But why would he leave that journal behind?

  I remembered Detective Valdez talking about the traces of brake solvent in the wound on James’s throat and it all became clear.

  If Dylan had been trying to take out as many of the frat members as he could, cutting their brakes was a great way to do that. But what if he heard the fight between Matt and James, then heard James stumble off into the woods alone? He had already stolen Matt’s knife. The chance to meet his enemy face-to-face probably became too good to pass up.

  Scooting out from under the truck in a hurry, Dylan must’ve dropped the journal, and I’d found it before he had a chance to come back.

  Thinking about the journal, I remembered the section on internal and external cracks. It hadn’t been James writing down the weaknesses in his own organization. It was Dylan trying to figure out how to break them, how to kill the people who’d wronged him and blame it on others. He’d been way too adamant it had to be Matt who’d killed James, after all.

  And I’d played right into it. My heart stopped.

  We’d played right into it, right into his apartment. Alone. Fear gripped my stomach as I thought about Alex, sitting out there with Dylan while I was in here. A little relief washed over me at the memory of his gun. The guy could take care of himself. But here I’d gone and separated us. Setting my jaw, I flushed the toilet, then splashed a little water on my face to cool it down before turning it off. I needed to get back out there.

  I opened the bathroom and peered out. My heart settled as I heard Alex’s voice. He had moved onto asking about Kevin, probably following the theory that Matt killed James, so Kevin beat up Matt. The relief was temporary, however, as I remembered him standing in the kitchen, near all of those knives.

  Glancing at the calendar once more as I tiptoed passed the desk, my gaze landed on this week. Not only was there a crude circle marking today, but the words “The Cabin” were scrawled inside. But Dylan was here, not at a cabin. Unsure what that meant, I headed back out to be near Alex.

  “Anything more you can give us about Grady?” Alex asked as I returned. I’d almost forgotten Grady had been on our list of suspects, mostly because his motive hadn’t seemed like enough.

  “We heard some talk about the possible move affecting Grady’s dad since he owned the house they were using for frat headquarters,” Alex said.

  Dylan waved a hand at us. “From what I could tell, the fight was really dumb. It was more Grady grasping at straws. His dad would probably actually come out ahead if they decided to move out of the cabin.”

  “The cabin?” I asked, voice croaking around the two words.

  Alex’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he read my probably manic body language. He focused back on Dylan, and I appreciated him not drawing attention to my weirdness. He must know I’d found something.

  “Yeah, that’s what they call the house they live in. Grady’s dad’s been giving them a huge discount on rent for years.”

  The frat house was called the cabin. Either Dylan was planning to pay them a visit or he already had. We needed to catch him before he could get out of here. Which meant I needed to prove his alibi was fake.

  “So,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. When he looked over at me, I continued. “You and your roommate get along pretty well?”

  He nodded, but I could see a hint of worry behind his eyes.

  “You said you two were hanging out, playing video games Friday night?” I held his gaze with so much more confidence than I felt.

  Dylan’s eyes flicked between me and Alex, his cheeks growing slightly red. “I—uh—there’s…” He let out a whoosh of breath. “No. I’m so sorry. I lied.”

  Blinking, I tried not to laugh in triumph. That was way easier than I thought it was going to be. I could feel Alex sit up straighter in the stool next to me. I wondered if his hand was making its way toward his holster.

  “Oh? What were you really doing?” I asked after Dylan didn’t elaborate.

  He met my eyes. “I was with another girl. I didn’t want Chloe to find out.”

  The kitchen lights seemed to amplify, growing all too bright and buzzing in their florescent tubes. What? I almost coughed. That wasn’t a confession. Looking to Alex, I tried to get my thoughts to line up after the veritable bowling ball Dylan had just thrown into them.

  “You’re… cheating on her?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Yeah. I mean, Chloe’s great and all, but she’s so intense sometimes and—well, I met this new girl. Gina, is her name. She doesn’t know about Chloe, either, and I was trying to keep it that way.” He swallowed and smiled, but it seemed more like a cringe. “Honestly, I thought I might even get away with it.”

  “Did you lie to the police as well?” Alex asked, I noticed not admitting he was also part of the force. yet.

  Dylan nodded. “I’m sorry, I just knew they’d be talking with Chloe and I didn’t want it to sound suspicious when our stories didn’t match.”

  Questions came running at me like too many excited Hammys and I couldn’t seem to grab onto a single one in my bombarded state.

  “Wait…” I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. That was it… I had been wrong about Dylan.

  But then I remembered the handwriting, the calendar hanging in his bedroom. No. He was the killer—he had to be. My pulse ratcheted up as Dylan placed his hand on the counter. His fingers were now mere inches away from the large knife.

  While I knew Alex was most likely seeing the same thing and would have his gun ready if Dylan did come at us, I searched nearby for anything I might use to block his attack. There was a large accounting textbook sitting on the counter to my left. I carefully lifted my hand and curled my fingers around the edge of the binding. In the process, I moved one of the pieces of mail sitting on top. The small address window, which had been covered before, was now fully in view. And I sucked in a quick breath.

  Liam Emsworth.

  Emsworth? Like Ethan?

  Dylan had simply introduced him as Liam at the coffee shop. Eyes closing for a quick second, I pictured him standing in front of Nate. He’d been much shorter than the tall barista, but would’ve been just a few inches shorter than James. Just like the detective had said.

  I couldn’t breathe. Glancing behind me, I looked through the open door to the second bedroom, the one I hadn’t walked through to get to the bathroom. Dirty clothes littered every surface, and a few large baseball posters were pinned to the wall. Dylan had lost his baseball scholarship. I gulped. That was his room, which meant…

  I’d walked through Liam’s room to get to the bathroom.

  It was Liam who’d written the journal, Liam who was at the campground that night, and Liam who was Ethan’s brother.

  “What do you want me to do?” Dylan asked. “I’ll go to the police, tell them the truth.” He moved the hand closest to the knife, but he didn’t pick up the weapon, instead moving the hand through his hair.

  I reached out under the counter and grabbed onto Alex’s arm, hoping his presence might steady me.

  “Dylan,” I said, warily.

  He looked up.

  “How long have you and Liam lived together?” I asked.

  He blinked. “Just a few months. Why?”

  My mouth felt hot, tasted of iron, and the apartment felt like it was tipping.

  “Why didn’t you tell us he was the one who saved your life during the hazing, that he was the other pledge?”

  Alex turned to face me. The color drained from Dylan’s face.

  “Liam wrote the journal, Alex. Not James.”

  20

  As Alex sat there in shock, everything else clicked into place. The journal had be
en too full, too detailed to have been created in the few months since Dylan had attempted to rush for the TriAlphas. It looked like years of work, years of research.

  Just about three years, I was betting.

  I kept an eye on Dylan who still hadn’t answered any of my questions. “Where was Liam when you were out with Gina on Friday night?”

  Dylan swallowed. Shook his head. “I don’t know. Here?”

  “Was he here when you came back that night?” I asked, trying not to yell in my frustration.

  At this, Dylan blinked. “He was here when I came back… in the morning. I stayed with Gina.”

  “So he could’ve been gone all night.” Turning wild eyes on Alex, I said, “It was Liam. He killed James and tried to kill Matt. And now…” My stomach sank as I remembered the circle on the calendar in Liam’s room. “Oh no. The cabin. Do you know where Liam is right now?”

  Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s his brother’s birthday—or, would’ve been. He said he needed some time alone.” He began pacing in the kitchen. “Wait, you really think he could’ve killed those guys?”

  “You tell us. He’s your roommate,” Alex said flatly.

  The color drained from Dylan’s features.

  I stood up, rushing toward the door. “Dylan, you need to show us where the TriAlphas house is.”

  Alex’s hand was on his holster, but he didn’t need to use it because Dylan nodded, and followed me without hesitation.

  “I promise I didn’t know about any of this. I hate the guys, but I don’t want anyone to die.” Dylan rambled on as we ran toward Alex’s truck.

  We stayed silent as we clambered inside and Alex peeled out, following the distraught Dylan’s directions.

  After a few minutes, Dylan pointed to a large, white house. “There. It’s that one.”

  This part of Pine Crest was known for its big houses with elaborate gardens. The house Dylan pointed at was huge—three stories, at least, with white columns flanking the large front steps. And while the yard was grand, holding huge rhododendrons and lilacs among other things, it looked overgrown and poorly cared for.

  Alex parked the truck along the road and then pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and it began to ring. “Dad, I know who killed James and attacked Matt. I think he’s going to hurt more people. I’m sending you my location. Come as soon as you can, with backup.” He hung up, pushed the screen a few more times, then clicked off his phone. “Stay here.”