Page 27 of Rush of Jealousy

“Nah, his dad flew in for business, and they are having a late dinner out.”

“Gotcha.”

When the girls start revving up the PDA, I make a hasty exit and go off in search of the bathroom. I open a bunch of hallway doors, occasionally encountering a heavy petting session, until I find the one I am looking for.

I enter and lock the door, double-checking that it does in fact lock. I open the cabinet under the vanity and use my cell phone light to see if anything stands out. Just a bunch of cleaning products. Next, I check the closet and medicine cabinet. Nothing. I pull out a pair of latex gloves from my luggage and use them to rummage through the trash. Ah ha. At the very bottom, I find an empty orange pill bottle that has the entire label scratched off. Why would someone who is getting prescription medicine put so much effort into removing the pharmacy label? I throw the bottle into my bag, just in case something stands out in the future.

As I walk down the hall, I try a few more doors, finding most occupied with couples. No one even notices the sound of the doors opening. When I come to the door that has light filtering out of the bottom, I quietly open it to find someone talking. To themselves? I leave the door slightly ajar and lean against the wall to listen. The man is on his cell phone. I recognize the back of the costume as being that of Skeleton Man. He is sitting on the bed facing away from the door. His calm hushed tone has me instantly intrigued.

Despite the music blaring outside and in the great room, I am close enough to hear the entire one-sided conversation.

“I don’t feel comfortable continuing on like this. She is going to catch on. You promised this would end soon. I feel compromised. My cover is going to be blown if I get this close. She is here. Yeah, of course. Yes, I’m being careful. But she has a wire on.”

Oh. Fucking. No.

I am theshe. I feel it in my bones and the way my blood turns to ice.

How does he know? Why does he care? Who is he? Is he talking to his boss? Is Skeleton Man the one who is drugging girls? Does he think I am now a liability?

He turns and looks at the open door, and I move just in time. He yells “dammit” into the speaker. I turn my body more and press it flat against the wall. I feel paralyzed with fear. I can hear him say some departing words and the creak of the bed as he gets up.

I force myself to react and scurry down the hall, slipping into the adjacent free room. It must have just freed up because minutes ago I know it was occupied. I wait until I hear movement before trying to catch another glimpse of the mysterious man. Maybe he lives here and that’s his bedroom. Or maybe he is an outsider visiting. With a costume that covers his body from head to toe, he can be anyone. When I hear the sound of the door opening, I wait long enough to ensure I’m not being discovered and then peek my head out. I scan both directions in the hallway but do not see Skeleton. I just see the shadowed back of another guest who is dressed in jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt.

I pull out my phone and engage in a fake text message chain with myself just to look like I am not paying attention. I snap a picture—even though it is mainly of his back, ass, and legs. When I focus my attention back to see if Skeleton Man appears again, I see that the guest who I thought came out of the adjacent room has the same pair of Converse on. Black and white. With little scuff marks around the top toe area. When I look at his height and frame, they are the same too. I snap one more picture just to make sure the first one is not blurry.

When he turns his head, I see clearly that it is the smoothie cafe worker, Paul. The same Paul who has a connection with Mark Tanner. The same Paul who found Monica at the last frat party and “rescued” her.

Or was he the one drugging her—along with two other agency girls? Maybe his goodwilled gesture was actually a way of following through on his task, or maybe it was his way of taking the suspicion off himself.

“Angie?”

I look up from my phone and see him staring back at me with a broad smile.

“Hey?” I ask, trying my best to act unsure. “Wait, we met before, right?”

He gives me a slow nod.

“Yes, yes,” I say, “you introduced me to my now favorite smoothie. Is it Paul?”

His smile lights up at my realization. “It is.” His eyes scan over my body. “Nice costume.”

I stare down at my hideously sexualized flight attendant attire and mutter a simple thanks. “Why are you not dressed up more?” I ask, knowing full well that minutes ago he was. Why did he change?

He shrugs. “I’m not much for costumes. Want to go grab something to eat or drink?”

“Yeah.” I make an attempt at a flirty smile, not really knowing if it is working or not. The closer I can get to him, the better my chances at figuring out why my number one suspect is being so secretive.

“Here, follow me.” He takes my left hand into his.

I allow Paul to lead me into the basement where a whole bar is set up with liquor bottles and mixers. In the huge open space rests two pool tables, a ping pong table, and a big-screen TV with several rows of couches. While the upstairs seems to have undergone some cosmetic renovations, down here is very much the stereotypical outdated bachelor pad.

“You seem to know your way around here. Is this your fraternity house?”

“Yeah. I transferred here at the start of the school year and was able to pledge in easily.”

“Pretty cool.” This would explain why not too many people seem to know him. He is new to the group. “What’s your major?”

“Communications,” he says, going behind the bar to mix up some drinks for us.

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