Kiss and Tell(17)

Tenley took a subtle step backward as the girl ripped the wrapping paper off and removed the box’s lid. Her body tensed, ready to bolt at the first sign of exploding foam or a loud horn blasting. But nothing happened. No crashes, no noise, no frights.

“Ew!” the girl cried. “Why would someone give you this?”

Tenley snatched the box back. Nestled inside was a small lock of shiny chestnut hair. The girl’s gaze went from the box to Tenley and back again. “Is that yours?”

“I… uh…” The ground swam up to meet Tenley, and for a second she thought she might pass out. She put a hand on a locker to steady herself. It was definitely her hair. But how did the darer have it? She was just about to slam the lid back on the box when she noticed a folded piece of paper at the bottom.

“Seriously,” the girl went on. “That’s so creepy!”

“It’s for a… uh… science project,” Tenley lied hastily. “Thanks for your help!” She took off down the hallway at a sprint, clutching the box to her chest.

“Wait!” the girl called after her. “How are you going to set me up with Hunter if you don’t know my…?”

The girl’s voice faded away as Tenley flew through the doors, emerging into the afternoon sunlight. The wind whipped her hair into her face as she threw herself into her car. Only when all four doors were locked did she flip open the lid and yank out the note.


Think what else could happen while you’re sleeping.



Tenley sagged dizzily against the seat. At some point, this person had crept into her room, stood over her bed, touched her hair.… She let out a cry. The darer didn’t just want her to die. No, first she had to be toyed with. And the message was clear: It could happen anytime, anywhere.

She forced herself to move, to grab her phone. Reed Park, she texted Sydney and Emerson, her fingers flying across the keys. ASAP! 911!!!! Then she threw her phone down and sped out of the lot.




A half hour later, Emerson and Tenley were jammed inside Reed Park’s kid-sized tree house. “Do we really have to do this here?” Emerson grumbled, trying unsuccessfully to make room for her long legs. The box of Tenley’s hair sat open between them, and Emerson flinched as her knee bumped into it. “We’re not all the size of garden gnomes, you know.” She shot Tenley an accusatory look as Tenley easily crossed her legs underneath her.

Tenley opened her mouth, but before she could formulate a comeback, Sydney climbed into the tree house. “Sorry, sorry.” She was panting a little as she forced herself into the tiny slot of space that was left. “Is there maybe a larger place we could do this?”

“Finally, someone with sense!” Emerson threw her arms up in the air for emphasis. Her knuckles smacked against the wooden ceiling, eliciting another grumble.

“This is the closest park to school, and I scouted out the whole place,” Tenley said firmly. It was what she’d done as she waited for Sydney and Emerson to show up, after she’d sent them a dozen texts about the lock of hair. “This is the only area that’s unexposed. We need privacy to talk.”

“Let’s just get this over with.” Emerson wiggled in place, looking uncomfortable. “I want to get back to school before the end of the period.”

Tenley looked over at Sydney, who was pink-cheeked and panting. “Where were you this morning, anyway? Why weren’t you at school?”

Sydney picked at her fingernail. “I went to visit Guinness.”

Tenley’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t say anything.

“He wasn’t ready for family to visit yet,” Sydney continued hastily. “But he told me something kind of interesting. You know how Kyla was getting notes and phone calls before she died?” Tenley nodded. Sydney had already filled her and Emerson in on everything she’d found in the package Guinness had sent her. “Well, Guinness said that the summer before Kyla died, he found a note in her room. He can’t remember what it looked like exactly, but it was a love poem. What if the same person stalking Kyla also wrote her that love poem—calling her Lion like it was some special nickname? It almost makes it sound like a guy, doesn’t it? Maybe even—”

“Wait,” Emerson cut in. Tenley glanced over at her. She looked uneasy all of a sudden. “What did you just say?”

“A guy,” Sydney repeated.

“No, before that. The nickname.”

“Oh, Lion,” Sydney said. “That was the nickname that the guy—or whoever—used in the love poem. Guinness remembered it because he thought it was a strange nickname.”

“Maybe she was quick to extract her claws,” Tenley offered.

“Cheerleader,” Emerson burst out, making them both turn toward her. Her face was now an alarming shade of puke green. “Kyla was a Winslow cheerleader, right?”

Sydney nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Winslow Lions.” Emerson’s voice cracked. “The cheerleaders. That’s why the nickname.”

“Could be,” Tenley agreed. She cocked her head, studying Emerson. Her face was scrunched up, and she was squeezing her legs so tightly her knuckles had turned white. “What is it, Em?”

Emerson fidgeted, knocking against the box of hair again. “The guy I was seeing… You know, the one in that video? He—he used to call me that.”

“What?” Tenley blanched. “Well, who was it, Em?” She scooted closer to Emerson, until she was practically sitting on top of her. Still, Emerson avoided eye contact. “I know you’re trying to protect your privacy, but this could be what we’ve been waiting for—a clue that actually leads us somewhere!”

“I…” Emerson looked frantically between Tenley and Sydney. “I don’t… I can’t…”

“My dad.” Sydney said it flatly, not a drop of emotion.

“Excuse me?” Tenley cried at the same time Emerson yelped, “You know?”

Sydney leaned back against the wall. “I’ve known for a while now,” she said quietly. “But it doesn’t make my dad a stalker, Emerson. Or someone after his own daughter.”

Tenley’s gaze flipped from Sydney to Emerson and back again. One looked grimmer than the next. “You’re probably right, Sydney,” she said quickly. “Besides, we really think the darer is the same woman who kidnapped Caitlin.” She glanced at Emerson for backup, but Emerson was looking down, tugging at a loose strand on her jeans.

“There’s something else I haven’t told you,” Emerson said quietly. “Last week, the darer made me sneak into Matt’s apartment. I found something under his bed. Kind of a trophy box. With my stuff in it, and other girls’, too. Other Winslow girls.” She closed her eyes, looking sick. “I’m sorry, Sydney,” she whispered.

Sydney’s dad had a Winslow trophy box? Tenley gnawed on her lower lip, her thoughts launching into overdrive. “Where’s the box now?”

“The darer made me take it,” Emerson muttered. “It’s under my bed.”

Tenley bit so hard on her lip that she drew blood. “So you’re saying the darer had you remove proof from Matt’s apartment that would tie him to any girls from Winslow?”

Emerson nodded miserably.

“Then the darer outed you in that video, but covered up Matt’s face. Protecting Matt.”

Emerson nodded again. Tenley kept her gaze on her, unable to look at Sydney. “Let’s say Kyla did hook up with Matt. She ended up stalked and dead. Then Emerson hooked up with him, and now her best friend is dead and she’s being stalked—”

“Enough!” Sydney jumped up, bumping her head against the tree house’s ceiling. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to this. You might have pissed off the darer by hooking up with a guy twice your age, Emerson, but that does not make this tormentor my dad. We don’t even know for sure that Kyla dated him! Anyone could have called her Lion.” She climbed over Emerson’s legs, pushing angrily toward the exit. “All you’re doing is spinning conspiracy theories. One minute it’s the kidnapper, the next it’s my dad. Next it will probably be me!” She clambered onto the stairs. “You guys play Nancy Drew all you want. I’m out of here. I’ve got an actual murderer to find.”

Tenley shifted restlessly as Sydney’s footsteps pounded down the stairs. She’d been so sure that the darer was the woman Caitlin had mentioned in her diary. Could she really have been so off? She felt queasy as she turned back to Emerson. “What do you think, Em?”

Emerson closed her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “I think you’re right. We can’t discount it.”





CHAPTER TWELVE


Thursday, 3:00 PM


Emerson could see them. They were standing in a clump at the edge of the football field: Marta, Jessie, Hunter, Sean, Nate, and Tyler. She would be there, too, if she were still one of them. But she wasn’t. She was watching from the outskirts.

She tugged nervously at the peacoat she was wearing over her cheerleading uniform. All afternoon, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about this new Matt twist. Was it really possible he was behind everything? Just considering it made Emerson feel as if something was curdling inside her. He was Sydney’s dad. She kept trying to imagine her own dad tormenting and hurting her. It was unfathomable. But Sydney’s dad wasn’t Emerson’s dad. He had a trophy box of high school conquests. One of them being her.