We skulk through the alleyway, where tall stone walls rise above us on either side, blocking out any light. I keep my eyes on the narrow cobbled path, because there are no streetlights down here and the road is uneven. Izzy stays close behind, and it takes me a minute to interpret her heavy breathing.
She’s crying.
“Did you see Noah’s eyes?” she says quietly between sniffles. “I didn’t think…He never seemed the type to take drugs, you know, but what if he’s the one who spiked my drink? Do you think that’s why he’s done all this? Is it all a drug-induced psychosis?”
There’s that itch in my brain again, but I don’t get the chanceto examine it because a tall, dark shape rears up at me. I swallow a scream and tense my whole body, my eyes scrunching up involuntarily as Izzy bumps into me.
“What’s wrong?” she says, immediately on guard.
I pry my eyelids apart when there’s no immediate attack and let out a sigh of relief, but my heart is fluttering wildly and I realize I’m on the verge of a meltdown. God, not now, Fliss!
“Just a dumpster,” I say out loud, hoping it will help, but my body is threating to fold onto the ground as I think about what’s just happened. We carry on for a few shaky steps before Izzy stops me.
“Fliss? You’re breathing weird.”
“I know,” I say, my voice rising higher with each word. “It’s just too much, I need a minute, and we don’t have one and…”
“Shhh, it’s okay.” Izzy steers me along the alleyway, her hands firm but gentle on my shoulders. I can’t believe after everything tonightshe’sthe one talkingmedown. “Let’s start trying thegates.”
“What?” I blink back tears and spot a wooden gate set into one of the walls. Izzy presses on the handle as we pass it, but it’s locked.
“Keep trying,” she says. “We must be at the back of the on-campus housing now, and hopefully someone has left a gate unlocked. We can hide in a garden, stay out of sight while we take a quick breather to calm down.” We try every gate we pass and eventually hit the jackpot. “Get in here,” Izzy whispers, pushing the gate open and ushering me inside. I creep into the yard.
There’s a tall weeping willow against the opposite wall, andas Izzy locks the gate behind us, I duck beneath the boughs. I can barely see the building from here, so if there are people inside, hopefully the foliage affords us some privacy too. I let Izzy wrap me in a hug as tears stream down my face and I sob quietly. There’s just so much in my brain, it’s such a jumble, and my suppressed emotions deciding to surface now is not helpful. I try to push them aside so I can concentrate on getting out of the situation we’ve found ourselves in.
My thoughts start to find order, and my whole body tensesup.
“What’s wrong?” Izzy whispers, stiffening too. “Did you hear something?”
“No, but you said something.” I replay the conversation we had in the alleyway, but whatever triggered the itch is still just out of my reach. “Repeat what you said before I had my freak-out?”
“That Noah is a psycho, and I never saw it coming?”
“No, just before that.”
“I don’t know, something about the look in his eyes?” She shudders. “He looked so scary, Fliss.”
“That’s it!” I hiss, grabbing her arm. “You said he looked like he was on drugs.”
“Yeah, I was shocked. I didn’t think he was into that.”
“He’s not!” I say, remembering the party at my dad’s. “He told me he wouldn’t dream of messing around with drugs because he had a heart condition when we were kids.”
“He did?”
I nod. “Yeah. We were talking about it, and he told me it wasn’t worth risking taking drugs in case it came back.” I shake my head. “So it doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if there was a ritual involved,” Izzy whispers. I level her with a look. “I’m not sayingIstill believe it, buthemight! What if he was trying to cure himself and had to take something as part of the ritual?”
“I don’t know,” I say slowly, even though I had the same thought in the gallery. “How easy was the website to find?”
Izzy leans against the trunk of the tree. “I found it after a few searches, so not too hard.”
I groan. “None of this makes sense.”
“Thenmake itmake sense. You said you wanted to profile the killer, so now is the time to do it, Fliss.”
“You’re right.” I close my eyes, exhaustion flooding my body as it strains to stay alert for any tiny noise in the dark. I rub my temples and dredge up everything I know about serial killers. “Okay, based on the victims’ ages, the killer is probably a young male, late teens to early twenties.” I start checking off the traits on my fingers. “He will have chosen women he could easily overpower, and based on the profiles of most serial killers, he’s probably white, fairly intelligent and hunting within his comfortzone.”