The Competition - [60]

I gave the letter to Bailey. Her face was ashen when she passed it to Graden. He read it, and when he looked up, his eyes were blazing with fury. “This animal needs to be put down, and fast.” Graden raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ve got to take this to the chief ASAP.” He looked from Bailey to me, his expression stern. “This stays between us until I say otherwise. If anyone asks, it was just fan mail. Got it?” Bailey and I nodded. If the public found out what was in this letter, the threat of future shootings would cause mass hysteria. And there was no realistic way we could allay the fear. As Bailey pointed out, we couldn’t secure every single public building in the city and county of Los Angeles. Graden reread the letter, then put it back in the box. “This was obviously written by the ringleader-”

“Logan, based on what we know at this point,” Bailey said.

“And it sounds like a high school kid,” I said.

Graden frowned. “Do we know if Shane Dolan is our second shooter?”

“No,” Bailey said. “He’s looking good, but it’s too soon to commit to anything.”

Bailey filled Graden in on what we’d just learned from Isaiah Hamilton and Nancy Findley.

“And we’re sure no students are unaccounted for?” he asked.

“Checked and double-checked,” Bailey said. “All accounted for now. We’ve got alerts out for Logan and his Toyota, and for Shane and his pickup. And the lab is still sifting through a mountain of evidence.”

“We’re going to hit up Caleb and Evan and see what they know about Shane,” I said.

Graden nodded. “Sounds right.” He looked at me closely. “That letter was one hell of a gut shot. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” I’d tried to sound casual, but the words came out a little choky. Graden put an arm around me. That kind of physical display was something we never did at work. Ordinarily I would’ve appreciated it. Not now. This was my private bête noire and I needed to deal with it on my own. I straightened and leaned away. “It really is okay. I’ll be fine.”

Graden nodded and stepped back behind his desk, the move as much emotional as physical. “Just a word of advice about your interview with Evan,” he said. “You might want to go easy on him right now. He felt bad for not telling you about seeing Logan in the parking lot and, beyond that, for not realizing what was up at the time. Go too heavy and he might just shut down.”

“I agree,” Bailey said. “He was trying not to show it, but he looked pretty bent about the whole deal.”

Graden picked up the box containing the letter. “I sincerely doubt that these guys have the wherewithal to follow you two-”

I shook my head. “We’re too small a target. They don’t want us. They want a massive hit and they’re busy planning it. Right now.” Just hearing myself say the words made me want to run outside and start hunting, anywhere and everywhere. Every second we stood there was another second wasted.

“Still, I’m going to try and get you extra security. But in the meantime, be on your guard.” He looked from Bailey to me and back again. We nodded.

Graden left to see the chief, and Bailey and I headed out to her car. In the last twenty minutes, the entire complexion of the case had changed. It had never occurred to me that escaping from Fairmont High wouldn’t be enough for them. That, far from trying to hide, they’d be brazenly planning another attack. But now that I knew, it seemed obvious, even naive of us not to have anticipated this. Bailey’s grim expression as she steered out of the parking lot told me she was having similar thoughts.

“All we can do is push ahead,” I said. “The moves are the same.” Track down the witnesses, squeeze them for information, follow the leads.

“Yeah, but the moves need to be a lot faster now.”

I nodded, feeling my gut tighten with anxiety. I forced my brain to slow down and focus on our interview with Evan. Graden and Bailey had both made a fair point. Evan was pretty frayed around the edges when we’d last seen him. The past few days had given him time to think. Time to feel guilty about not having sounded the alarm when Logan told him to ditch school. Maybe time to wonder whether Logan or the other shooter would remember that conversation-and decide to do something about it.

I still had trouble believing Logan would risk making a move on him. But Evan knew Logan better than we ever would.

37

The sky was turning to hues of purple and indigo when we pulled up to Evan’s house. It was downright cold now that the sun had set. I was glad I’d worn my peacoat and cashmere scarf. This time we met Evan’s father. John Cutter had that tight, lean muscle and super-groomed, short-haired look that screamed military.

“Did you happen to know Logan, Mr. Cutter?” I asked.

“I met him a few times when he was here to see Evan, but I can’t say I formed any strong impression one way or the other. He seemed pretty introverted.” He shook his head. “I guess you just never know, do you?”

“You really don’t,” I said. “Have you ever met a person named Shane Dolan?”

“The name doesn’t ring a bell. If you had a picture, I might-” Bailey showed him the photo she had on her cell phone. Cutter shook his head. “No, I’d remember if I saw a man like that in my house.”