The following day, everyone is talking about the truth or death messages. As it turns out, all senior students received it, yet I'm the only one even remotely freaking out about it. No one is taking it seriously, apart from the school board, who currently have a lot to answer for with regards to data protection. Even Sienna apparently shrugged it off when she saw it.

It's frustrating to say the least and as I linger by Shaun's locker–thinking about ways to get people to listen–I'm drawn to a phone conversation happening a few feet away.

"I don't know what you expect me to do? I'm a high school student! How am I supposed to make money? Plant a tree?"

It's Elliot Evens; all dark-haired, bright-eyed and cheek dimpled. He fashions black jeans and leather jackets like the damn things are made for him and yet, such a simple getup is hard to ignore. At least for me. He's easily the most gorgeous guy in our school but as Jasmine's ex, I'm not supposed to think that. It doesn't matter that they only dated for a month way back in our freshmen year. He was a dick and it's my duty as her best friend to hate him.

"Alright, alright...I get it. I'll figure sumthin out."

I try not to listen, for I feel slightly uncomfortable with doing so. Having a life-crisis is bad enough without his peers eavesdropping. But damn, his voice is so smooth. So rich. Like melted chocolate.

"Bye."

He slams his locker shut and momentarily locks eyes with mine, grounding me with that intense gaze of his.

Holy blue-eyes!

He offers up a strained smile, which I choose not to return and instead, turn my back on him. Thankfully, he doesn't question it and moves along, allowing me to breath for what feels like the first time in forever.

"Lena!"

"Shaun?"

He comes running towards me, waving his phone in mid air. "You were right. We should've listened."

Huh?

"What're you taking about?" I ask.

He thrusts his phone under my nose, bringing my attention to an article printed by our local newspaper; Oak Valley Times. I adjust my eyes to accommodate the tiny font staring back at me, though part of me wishes I hadn't bothered.

BREAKING NEWS: Body found in Rockaby Park. Believed to be that of seventeen-year-old Sienna Michaels.

"Fuck!"

Shaun looks just about ready to puke.

"She's dead?"

"Happened in the early hours of this morning, apparently."

"How?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. Everyone is freaking out. You were right, Helena. You told us to take it seriously and we didn't."

I shake my head, attempting to clear the haze now clouding my senses. Yes, I wanted people to take things seriously but this? I never for one second thought Sienna would actually end up dead.

"We need to find out if the police are treating it as a murder," I state, digging out my phone.

"Why?" he asks.

"So we know what we're facing," I respond, typing 'Oak Valley' murder into google.

Shaun shuffles closer and reads over my shoulder, just as invested as me. Together, we read the only other article available and learn nothing new, other than that the police are looking for people who have information.

"Do you think they know about the texts?" I ask, re-reading the article.

Shaun shrugs. "I imagine so."

"Who would do this?" I question. "Who would threaten a teenager with truth or death and kill her hours later?"

Out of nowhere, Jasmine comes scurrying over, all red cheeked and sweaty faced. "Bloody hell! Have you heard?"

We both nod.

"I've just seen Lewis," she informs, cuddling up to Shaun. "Apparently, the police don't think the truth or death messages have anything to do with her death."

"What?" I ask, absolutely horrified. "How can they not think they have anything to do with it?"

"They traced it to someone over in Ohio. They're putting it down to a stupid prank."

"And I suppose her dying a few hours later is just a coincidence?" I ask.

Shaun interrupts. "Even I have to admit that's a stupid move. So what if it was traced to Ohio? The actual killer could've got someone else to send the messages."

"Someone in Ohio," offers Jasmine, perking up.

The three of us say nothing, alone with our thoughts. I feel like I'm in an episode of Killer King and I mean that in the worst way possible. Yet again, the police aren't taking everything into account. I'm no expert but to simply draw a line under those messages is foolish. Of course they're of relevance. Sienna was murdered just hours after receiving them!

"Shaun? Helena? Jasmine?" Mrs Jones approaches, armed with grievance pamphlets. "Have you three been informed?"

We nod.

"The police are due to arrive this morning," she says, tone sad. "They'll set up camp in my office for anyone who has any information. I don't suppose you three could help spread word of that? Someone might know something. Something useful."

"Of course," replies Jasmine.

She hands us a pamphlet each and hurries off, no doubt on a mission to let students know of Oak Valley's finest visiting school property.

"This is crazy," states Shaun, focusing his gaze on me. "You said you wanted a more interesting town to live in."

"I didn't mean this!" I protest, fighting off a sudden chill.

"Well, it's happening," he says, holding his hand out for Jasmine. "And if Sienna had listened to you, maybe she wouldn't be dead."

"What're you saying?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I'm saying, you're the only one who took those messages seriously. If the police don't think they're connected, make them see it. None of us are safe, Helena. Oak Valley has a killer on the loose and the way I see it, you've got a better chance of figuring out who it is more than the cops."

He's right. About none of us being safe. Sienna was targeted but who's to say it will stop there? We all got the same text, which means the killer–whoever he or she is–has records of every senior's phone number. They know our personal details. Our names. They know our secrets.

I have to figure out who killed Sienna.

Before the killer strikes again.

****

****

Oak Valley police department are damn right incompetent. Detective Saunders had laughed–yes, laughed–when I voiced my concerns regarding the truth or death text messages. He all but shoved me out of Mrs Jones' office and told me to–and I quote–"not worry about it." Fighting my case seemed fruitless and starting an argument with a police officer is just plain stupid. So instead, I find myself in Lincoln High's library, immersed in my word document. It's situated in the west building and dates back to at least a hundred years. Still, it's authentic. Old-school. Charming.

"You misspelled incompetence."

The voice sounds from behind. Deep. Delectable. Familiar.

"Thanks," I mumble, correcting my mistake.

Elliot takes a seat next to mine, straddling the seat like the damn thing is a horse. His thighs are thick at either side of the back rest, making it hard to focus. To breathe.

"Can I help you?" I ask, rather irritated.

He studies me for a moment, appearing amused. "Why are you writing about Sienna Michaels?"

"That's none of your business."

He chuckles. I cringe.

"Sorry. Ignore me. I'm being a bitch because I'm pissed."

"Why are you pissed?" he asks, quirking a brow.

I'm instantly drawn to them, so thick and precise. They're brown, almost black–just like his hair, which sits in perfect waves. Underneath them, his eyes blaze an electric blue, captivating. I've never truly admired them before. Not this close up.

"I feel like I'm living through an episode of Killer King. Only, instead of the adamant cop, I'm the person with the clues everyone's ignoring."

"You're a fan of Killer King?"

I nod.

"Cool. So, what clues do you have?" he probes.

I blush. "Nothing substantial yet. But I know for a fact those messages we got connect to Sienna's death."

"I agree."

"Too bad detective Saunders doesn't," I sigh.

"That asswipe?"

I laugh. "That's one way to describe him, yes."

We both smile and for a moment, I forget. I forget I'm supposed to hate him.

"Don't look at me like that," he pleads.

"Like what?"

"Like you just remembered you're Jasmine's best friend and need to hate me due to some unwritten rule."

"Well, you are the asswipe who dumped her over text," I sass. "And it does state in our best friend contract that I am to hate you for all of eternity."

"Really? That long?"

I nod. "Girl-code is fierce and must be obeyed at all times."

"Isn't she dating your brother now?"

Well, shit!

"Umm..."

He smiles. "Seems if she's able to date your brother, you can spare the guy she dated three years ago five minutes of your time in the library."

"Touché."

Another smile. "Look, you wanna be a lawyer, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"Helena, your Twitter profile is full of your ambitions."

Note to self, be less transparent.

"Okay..."

"So, shouldn't you form an opinion of me based on your own judgements? Not Jasmine's?"

He has a point.

"Maybe?"

He grins a triumphant grin. "Basically, what I'm trying to say is, I'm not that guy anymore. The guy who breaks up with his girlfriend over text."

"Who are you then?" I ask, desperate for some insight. For a glimpse into the Elliot Evens he now claims to be.

"I'm Elliot Evens," he replies, scooting his chair closer to mine. "The guy who's going to help you figure out who killed Sienna Michaels."

****

Well, well, well.

Will Helena team up with her best friend's ex boyfriend–Elliot?

Find out in the next chapter!