Elliot and I say nothing more as Detective Saunders scribbles down notes, writing at lightning speed. His eyebrows furrow as the pen glides across the page, spilling secrets. He's left-handed and I notice on more than one occasion the smudges he creates as a result of being so. Blue ink gathers in blotches, irritating me. Making me anxious.

"Anything else?" he asks, looking up.

"Nothing I can think of," reveals Elliot. "Helena?"

"Nope."

Last night–over text–Elliot and I decided to share our findings with the police. We want the killer caught as quickly as possible. More so now that he or she has reason to fear me.

Thank you, Chloe!

"This is really valuable information," says Saunders. "But I must admit, how you got such information is worrying. I can't stress enough how dangerous it is to go digging around a case like this. From now on, let us police officers do our job."

We both nod, though know deep down we won't be stopping any time soon.

"Thank you," offers Elliot, holding the door open for me.

"Do you think they'll take it seriously?" I ask, once out of earshot.

Elliot shrugs. "Whether they choose to use the information is up to them. We've done our bit."

He walks me to my locker, my own personal body guard.

"Now what do we do?" I question.

He doesn't say anything, seemingly at a crossroads. Stuck. We're at that point in the investigation where no new leads are presenting themselves. Nothing substantial is coming forward.

"It's Helena, right?"

We both turn at the tame voice belonging to Francesca.

"Umm, yeah."

She smiles. "Celia told me what you did at the meeting last night. Thank you."

I falter, feeling like a fraud accepting her gratitude. I said what I said out of frustration. Not to defend Tom.

"Look, Francesca-"

"Did anyone know about you two?" asks Elliot, intervening. "Anyone who would want to expose your secret?"

She shrugs. "Anyone could've figured it out, I guess. Tom and I were always so careful but we had our slip ups, ya know? And that photo was taken months ago, which means..."

"What?" I ask.

"Whoever is doing this has been holding onto that information for a while."

Interesting. Why take a photo and wait months to use it?

"Anyway, I've gotta go. Thanks again for defending us. I appreciate it."

I smile, not entirely sure it's a believable one. Still, I try because Francesca seems like a nice girl. A nice girl who is going through a tough time.

"Well, what d'ya know... the killer's known for months," states Elliot, once she's gone. "How bizarre."

"They've been planning this for a while," I assume. "Waiting for the perfect moment to pounce."

Elliot nods. "Maybe we need to start looking at the killer's behavioural patterns."

It makes sense.

"How about tomorrow? Your place?" he asks.

Saunders says we should let the police do their job.

I say, fuck that.

There's work to be done...

"Sure. Come for dinner."

****

****

Shaun and Jasmine sit cross-legged on her plush carpet, gaping at the mouth like two fish in search of food. Ten minutes ago, they asked how the investigation was going and–with the exception of Elliot's involvement–I tell them everything.

"I can't believe it. Sienna and Principle Wilson..."

"I know," agrees Jasmine, looking slightly worse for wear. "It's wrong on so many levels."

"It seems all three messages are related to sex in some way," I inform. "Maybe the killer is anti-sex?"

"Classic horror story trope, right?" mocks Shaun.

"Well at least you're safe, virgin," jokes Jasmine, poking my ribs.

I laugh.

"How do you know I'm not having hot sex every night?"

Shaun groans. "Can we not?"

I throw a pillow at his head, missing by a long shot. It doesn't help that the idiot dodges it last minute. With reflexes like a ninja, I'll never achieve a satisfying hit. 

"Babe–" says Jasmine "and I mean this in the nicest way possible–leave so I can find out who your sister is shagging."

Shaun just about pukes on her head. I–on the other hand–cannot stop laughing.

She smiles. "Love you."

"Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your sleepover."

"Bye!"

With Shaun gone, we pull out the face masks and chocolate, Netflix following shortly after. We're five minutes into Legally Blonde when Jasmine's curiosity gets the better of her, prompting her to hit pause on the TV.

"So, who is he?" she asks. "Is it the hot cop who's been helping you with the investigation?"

"He's not a cop," I insist, throwing a piece of chocolate at her head.

She attempts to catch it in her mouth, but fails miserably.

"Who, then?"

Here goes nothing.

"It's Elliot."

She stares, unblinkingly. "Evens?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"You don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?" she asks, breaking off another piece of chocolate for us both to demolish.

"Because he's your ex."

"We dated a million years ago for like, a day!" she insists, laughing. "Besides, he's a nice guy."

"When he's not breaking up with people over text?" I sass.

She pouts, seemingly contemplating something. "Actually, he had good reason to do that."

Huh?

"I never told you this because I'm not exactly proud of my actions..."

"Okay."

She inhales a deep breath, avoiding eye contact. "I was still with Elliot when Shaun and I first kissed."

What?

"Really?"

Fuck!

"Elliot found out and broke things off. Said he understood."

"Jas!" I launch a pillow at her head. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? I've been hating on him for three years!"

Better yet, how come Elliot never told me? He had every reason to defend himself when I bitched at him about it.

"I guess I was ashamed. Elliot didn't deserve that."

No. No one ever does.

"D'ya hate me?"

I snort-laugh. "Of course I don't hate you."

She releases a sigh, genuinely relieved.

"I did hate Elliot though. For no reason."

"I know. Sorry." She looks up. "But hey, at least you're making up for lost time. With all the hot sex."

I laugh. "We're not having sex."

"No?"

"Unless by 'hot sex' you mean brainstorming potential murderers."

"Not exactly what I had in mind."

We both smirk.

"So–umm–should I tell Shaun?"

She looks almost insulted. "Oh, hell no! Shaun hates Elliot."

I don't see why? If anything, it should be the other way around.

"Besides, I call dibs on giving Shaun bad news and you know he can only handle one thing at a time."

"Why? What bad news are you telling him?" I ask, viewing our options of face masks and choosing an exfoliant.

"I got accepted into NYU."

I stop what I'm doing immediately. "Oh my God. Jas, that's incredible! Congratulations!"

"Shaun doesn't know," she admits.

"Why not?"

"Because his heart is set on us both attending UCLA."

I throw my chosen packet on her dresser, preparing myself for an intervention.

"Well, what do you want?"

"I want NYU."

"So go!"

"But what about Shaun?"

"Shaun loves you, Jas. He'll want you to go to the college of your choice," I ensure, resting my hand on top of hers. "It's the fashion capital. You have to go."

"Even if it means we're apart?" she questions, getting tearful.

I wipe her cheeks and align her face directly in front of mine, offering her my biggest smile. "If anyone can survive long distance, it's you two."

She smiles in agreement. "I just don't want to hurt him. He's so excited about us living together."

"And you can live together. After you graduate."

Shaun and Jasmine are the type of couple you expect to see grow old together. Soulmates. Forever and always.

"Oh my god!" I yell, only just realising. "If I get into Penn, we'll be so close. It's only a four hour car drive!"

She beams. "I did think that."

"That settles it then!"

For the remainder of the night, Jasmine and I plan the next three years of our lives. Day drinking in Manhattan. Weekend getaways in the city. By the time we're ready for bed, both of us are too excited too sleep and decide to talk some more, cocooned in her floral sheets.

"I'm going to marry Shaun one day," she declares.

"Green card?" I joke, poking her ribs.

She squeals at the ticklish touch and kicks her legs, missing my face by a mere inch.

"Can I be bridesmaid?"

She nods. "Only if I'm yours when you marry Elliot."

This time, I fully pounce on her, digging my fingers into her armpits. She thrashes beneath me, yelling her displeasure. Begging me to have mercy.

"Oh my God, STOPPPPPP!"

Our laughter echoes all around, bouncing from wall to wall. Jasmine's parents sleep in a room on the far side of the house and I only hope such position is far enough away that we don't wake them up.

"Helena!"

"Fine." I relent.

I'm mid-way through lying back down when the chime of my phone interrupts me.

"That must be your man," she teases, slapping my thigh.

I reach over her limp body to grab my cell, wondering what on earth Elliot has to say at this hour. Maybe he has news? Or perhaps he's coming at me with another 'good night gorgeous'.

Either way, I'm just happy to be hearing from him.

Only, it's not him.

It's not Elliot.

And two seconds later, Jasmine's phone bleeps.

Unknown:
Lying.
Deceiving.
Sins, in a crowd.
If Daddy knew your secret,
Would he be proud?

Unknown:
Zoe Robinson,
Truth or death?

****
Owwwww shitttttt!

What is Zoe's secret?

Will we find out? Or will she die hiding it?