Page 127 of For Your Own Good
“Fair,” he says.
“If I were you,” she says, “I’d say exactly what you just said.”
She’s right. And he has no way to prove otherwise. “So we’re at a stalemate.”
“Looks that way.”
If he had any proof against Crutcher, he’d offer it. All he has is a strong hunch, the plant book in Crutcher’s desk, and his milk preferences.
And nothing to lose.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” he says. “I think Crutcher did it. I think he killed all those people at Belmont, starting with Courtney’s mom, and I think he did it because he’s a psychopath who wanted to become headmaster.” Fallon’s eyes widen a little, but not enough. “I have no way to prove it, but it’s what I believe. If you think the same thing, we should work together on this. Because I don’t think the FBI has a clue.”
He takes it as a good sign when Fallon doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t do anything except stare at him.
“If you want to work together, that’s great,” he says. “If you think I’m lying, fine. But that’s the truth.” He turns away, only looking at her again once he’s back in his car. “And you can stop following me. You’re wasting your time.”
Zach shuts the door and starts the engine, giving her time to tell him to hold on. To saysomething.
She doesn’t.
“One more thing,” he says. “Crutcher was here.”
“What?”
“Before I got here, Crutcher walked into your building and didn’t come out for eighteen minutes.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re lying.”
“I know you think that, but if I were you, I wouldn’t eat or drink anything in your apartment.”
FALLON WATCHES ZACHuntil he turns the corner, out of sight, before going into her building. No sense in following him now. He’s not about to go anywhere interesting.
She approaches her door carefully, just in case Zach wasn’t lying. First, she checks the handle.
Still locked.
She slips her key in and opens it, looking down at the floor. In case Teddy left a note... or something else.
Nope. Not a thing.
Her apartment looks exactly as she left it. Bed unmade, lamp on the floor. Her tiny closet is overstuffed with clothes, the door bulging open as it always does.
She drops her bag on the floor and heads straight to the mini-kitchenette. That’s what the landlord called it. A fancy name for a sink, microwave, and refrigerator. All the food she has is in the fridge so it doesn’t attract bugs. Nothing inside except a box of crackers, some condiment packets, and a carton of orange juice.
It all looks the same, but Teddy wouldn’t be stupid enough to move things around. He would put them back exactly as he found them.
She shuts the refrigerator door without touching a thing.
On her laptop, she searches around for labs that can test food for poisons. There aren’t many companies who will do this for regular people like her, and the ones that will are very expensive. It would be worth the money if it would prove Teddy tried to poison her. But that assumes Zach is telling the truth.
He did sound sincere.
Not that she’d expected him to be a bad liar. But if he was lying, he’s better than she’d thought.
And if he was telling the truth, he’s right. They should work together.
It would be amazing to have him—or anyone—as a partner in this. Someone to bounce ideas off of, someone to help figure it all out and put it together in a way the police would believe.
