Page 61 of Cruel Riches

Truthfully, I needed to splash my face with cold water and take several deep breaths.

As terrible as it was that two innocent people were dead, this incident could prove to be a breakthrough in my dad’s case. If these latest killings turned out to be the real-deal Blackthorne Butcher and not a copycat like they presently assumed, that would be proof that my father was innocent all along. He couldn’t possibly have committed both sets of murders, because he’d been dead for a decade.

It raised a lot of questions, though.

If it was the real Butcher, why was he back now? Why did he wait ten years between the killings? Was he going to strike again? Was he targeting anyone in particular?

“Hey, what happened to your sheets?” Ruby called out from my bedroom. “There’s blood everywhere.”

I poked my head out of the bathroom. “Sorry, I was about to take them off when you started knocking. I got my period in the middle of the night and woke up to that.”

“No need to apologize,” she replied. “I never know when mine is coming. Last week I got it right in the middle of a lecture. I was so embarrassed.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Laurel said. “I don’t know what’s worse—the blood or the cramps.”

“Right now, it’s the cramps,” I replied with a grimace, laying a hand on my sore belly as I stepped out of the bathroom.

“Magnesium is good for cramps,” Ruby said, tilting her head. “Do you have any nuts in here? Or chocolate? They have magnesium in them.”

“Yeah, I have chocolate,” I said, gesturing to the giant box my mom gave me a few weeks ago.

“You should have some now. It’ll help.” Ruby padded over to the box. “I might take some too, if you don’t mind. Stress eating sounds like a good idea right about now.”

She grabbed a chocolate wrapped in orange foil, unwrapped it, and lifted it to her mouth. Then she lowered her hand. “Actually, I shouldn’t. I’ve been avoiding dairy because of my skin. Whenever I have it, I break out.”

“I’ll have it,” I said, holding my hand out. “Might as well test out this magnesium theory of yours.”

As I popped the orange cream chocolate into my mouth and chewed, Laurel glanced up from her phone, eyes wide. “They just updated the live news thread. They’ve identified the second body. Apparently the victim’s cousin heard about the case and called to check with the police because the family hadn’t heard from her in weeks.”

“How can they identify people so fast? When they have no eyes, I mean,” Ruby said. She twisted her lips in a grimace. “Sorry, that sounded awful.”

“No, I get what you mean. It’s hard to identify them by sight when they’re so mutilated,” Laurel said. “But this girl had a very distinctive strawberry birthmark somewhere, and the cousin described it to the police.”

“So who was she?”

“Her name was Claire Reilly. She was a Blackthorne student,” she said, looking down at her phone. “Apparently her parents hadn’t heard from her since she started college, but they didn’t report her missing. The cousin said it was normal for them to go for weeks without contact. I guess they weren’t very close.”

An invisible fist took hold of my guts and squeezed hard. “Did you say Claire Reilly?” I asked in a hollow voice.

“Yes.”

My legs suddenly felt too weak to hold me. I sat down on the end of the bed and put my head in my hands. “I knew her,” I said, voice barely above a murmur.

“Oh, shit.” Ruby sat next to me and lay a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Were you friends for long?”

I shook my head. “We met on the first day here, but then she stopped answering her phone and door. So really, I guess I only knew her for a few hours. But she was really nice, and I loved hanging out with her. I thought we were going to become good friends.”

Laurel sighed. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

I wiped away the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. “When she stopped answering me, I thought she just found other friends or dropped out. I had no idea…” Sorrow rose up in my throat, threatening to choke me. “No idea someone had taken her.”

“It’s so horrible,” Ruby murmured, rubbing my back.

I sucked in a deep breath and looked up at Laurel. Something awful had just occurred to me. “When did you say her parents last heard from her?”

“The last time she contacted them was when she arrived at Blackthorne,” Laurel replied. “Also, one of her professors just made a statement saying she never went to any classes. So she must’ve been taken by the killer on one of her first days here.”

A cold, heavy feeling settled in my stomach. “It’s my fault,” I whispered.

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