Page 37 of My Girl

Penny launches into an explanation about the town’s crime history. I try to listen, but my thoughts wander. I think about what Crave said:Watching someone die on the inside. They’ll disintegrate before your eyes, giving you their power.

I’ve always liked power.

I imagine killing Penny with the poison, telling her it’s an electrolyte mix. Could I take her life?

No.I couldn’t. I’m not a killer, and besides, most criminals get caught, and I don’t think my mother could save me from prison.

Penny drones on, and I gawk at the surveillance cameras on the ceiling of the mall. Black orbs with red lights, like scorpions waiting for the right time to strike.

I’m almost positive Crave has access to the cameras in my house, and I get this feeling that Crave has been watching me for a long time, longer than when I first laid eyes on his masked face in the Galloway House.

It’s not like Crave has anything on me. Ned doesn’t know that I sometimes hook up with strangers, but it’s not like Ned has any right to be mad about it. He eats me out and buys me lunch sometimes. We’re not in a relationship.

I should do something about the cameras though. Change my password. Uninstall them.Something.

I know I won’t do anything.

Maybe I like knowing that Crave is watching me.

Jerking off to me.

Examining me.

I shake myself out of those thoughts; Penny doesn’t notice me zoning out, but I need to focus. Crave isn’t my main concern; my father’s murder is.

“So you’ve done everything?” I interrupt her.

She raises a brow. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve interviewed everyone. You’ve talked to random people. You’ve looked at the evidence.”

“Well”—she shrugs—“I haven’t looked attheevidence. My dad won’t let me. But I have?—”

She explodes into a list of the people she’s interviewed. I can’t concentrate though.

If she’s already done everything, then what can we do now?

Ifthe killer is still around on the anniversary of these murders, then he’ll want to revisit his victory site, right? That’s what the TV shows and books say. He’ll possibly want to relive it too.

“What if we do something on the thirteenth?” I ask.

She wrinkles her nose. “Like what?”

I tap my lips and scan the room. A group of teenagers laughs as they go into the antique store.

I turn back to Penny. “A party.”

“A party?”

“Hear me out.” I put a hand on my chest. “What if we host a party on the thirteenth to bring people into the house? We can say it’s a haunted house or something, and talk about the murder-suicides andourtheories. If the murderer is still around, he’ll want to be there, right? To see the power his legacy still holds over the town. He may even want to correct us.”

My mind buzzes forward. It’s a crazy idea. Crave willhaveto attend the party to see what we do and say in his territory. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to see him without his mask.

My heart thuds in my chest, my eyes wild. At some messed-up point, this stopped being about my father and started being about Crave.

It’s about both of them,I tell myself.My father and Crave. They’re intertwined. Crave represents the house, and that’s where my father was killed.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Penny smacks her head. “The killer would be too proud to let it go, especially if we taunt them with incorrect details. Most serial killers are overly confident and proud. They wouldn’t let us say the wrong thing.”