I stopped dead.
My blood ran cold.
Swiping up through the message thread, I paused, my finger hovering over the message she’d sent me so long ago.
Raine: He’s in drama club with me. He works on set design. I think he’s in your business studies class???
“Oh, fuck.” My grip tightened on my phone, as the memories assaulted my mind. Raine, running to me in the warehouse, terror all over her face, insisting a masked figure had tried to grab her. Raine, getting into his car after drama club. The way he looked at her, the same way I looked at her.
I licked my lips, my throat suddenly dry. My heart was pounding as I forced the words from my lips. “Does anyone know anything about Dylan Rossiter?”
37
I awoke, disoriented and confused. Where was I? The last thing I remembered was Dylan waving me over on my way to meet Carter, asking if I could spare a minute to check something with him. Then…nothing.
As I became aware of my surroundings, I realised I was in a moving car. A car I recognised. A car that I’d ridden in every Monday afternoon for a while now. Remaining perfectly still, I tried to make sense of what was going on. Why was I in Dylan’s car? I was supposed to be meeting Carter, wasn’t I? Or had that been a dream? My head was so fuzzy; I couldn’t make sense of anything.
I trusted my instincts, though, and all my senses were on red alert. Something was wrong, and I didn’t know what.
“Dylan?” It was an effort to form the words. My tongue felt thick, like it was too big for my mouth, and my voice came out as an unsure mumble. “Where are we going?” Turning to look at his profile, I watched a smile appear on his face.
“I wondered when you’d wake up. How are you feeling?” His tone was light and conversational, but there was something so off about him. He was all jittery, clasping and unclasping the steering wheel, his breaths coming in shallow pants.
“My head feels funny.”
He chuckled. “That’s an unfortunate side effect of the sedative. Don’t worry, it won’t last. I only gave you a small dose.”
He sedated me? My brain tried to make sense of his words. It was such an effort to think.
I suddenly realised that he’d brought the car to a stop by the side of the road. “We’re not getting out, but I need you to do something for me. I need you to send a text to Carter to tell him you’ve gone home, okay? Tell him you’re not feeling well.” He reached his hand out towards my face, and I jerked away on instinct. His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “No funny business, Raine. No trying anything stupid like attempting to run away. I don’t want to hurt you, so please don’t make me.”
Make him? I could only watch as he placed my phone into my hands and waited, expectantly. Everything seemed so sluggish, like I was underwater or something.
“Send the text,” he prompted, when I remained still.
Right. The text. Think.
I typed slowly while he watched my every movement, reading the words as I wrote them. “I’m making it sound more personal.” I coughed, then licked my lips. “So…so he won’t get suspicious.” As soon as I hit Send, Dylan took the phone from my hands and turned it off, then threw it into the back of the car. All I could do was hope that Carter would understand my coded message. If he didn’t…I couldn’t let myself think about it. I had no idea what was happening, but the fact that Dylan had not only sedated me but had basically kidnapped me…my odds weren’t looking great.
I felt a sudden, sharp sting in my neck, and everything faded to black.
“D
ylan Rossiter? Mr. Jackson’s nephew?” Preston gave me a questioning look, his brow raised.
“How do you know he’s his nephew?”
“Who’s Dylan Rossiter?”
“What’s all this about?”
Everyone was suddenly speaking at once, and I held up my hand. “Stop. Preston, what was that about Mr. Jackson? Are you talking about the school caretaker?”
Preston nodded. “Yes. I got talking to Mr. Jackson one afternoon—his cousin lives in Connecticut, close to where I’m from, and anyway, he mentioned his nephew attended AHS and told me his name. I’m not sure if it’s common knowledge.”
I doubted it was. Dylan was one of those people who, like Raine, flew under the radar. I barely knew who he was—it was only through his connection to Raine that I’d had any idea. But being related to the caretaker—that could explain how he had access to the office of the head of the drama department. That was if he was behind the other things that had happened to Raine.
The more I thought about it, the more the idea solidified. I didn’t have any proof, yet every instinct was telling me that this was our guy. And if he was behind it all, and if Raine was worried enough to send me a coded message, then she could be in real danger.