GREY

The moment we'd darted out of Boardport and ambled to Dash' car, Mrs. Cabot's Lexus Caviar blitzed from its parking spot and zipped onto the main road.

"Dash, hurry!" I called, the ignition whirring as he backed out before slamming the gear into drive.

Making it to the edge of Boardport Market's expanse, he doubled to the right, just as Mrs. Cabot's car disappeared over the asphalt hills of highway road that humped up ahead of us.

"Crap," Dash mused, knuckles whitening at the wheel as he slammed his foot against the accelerator, rocketing us ahead.

"There she is!" I screamed as Mrs. Cabot came back into view, her Lexus flinging to the left and bolting through the intersection in front of her.

"She's headed to the paper," Cody mused. "US & The World."

"What?" Dash puzzled. "Dude, no way. The paper's in the other direction."

"You can get there this way too," Cody said. "It's a secret path, but I bet she knows it."

"But why?" Brayden asked. "The way she's driving, it looks like she's trying to get wherever she's going in a hurry."

"Yeah," Dash added. "Why would she take the scenic route? It doesn't make any sense."

I gulped. "It would if...if she's trying to cover her tracks."

"What?" Brayden angled his head to face me in the backseat.

"Whatever Jac told her on the phone...she looked as freaked as he was. And if all this really has to do with that Whiteface guy...well, she probably doesn't want to get spotted pulling up at US & The World this late at night."

Dash shook his head. "This is crazy, guys."

"For sure." Brayden nodded. "I still can't believe Jacquarious knows that columnist."

Cody's eyes narrowed, his gaze stony. "He doesn't just know him, Brayden." He pulled his phone from his pocket. "Before tonight, I couldn't be sure. But...now I know. Jacquarious is Whiteface. And Mrs. Cabot's been covering for him."

"Dude, that's impossible," Dash said. "I mean, yeah, he's good at writing. But there's no way he'd be able to pull that off—"

"Why not?" Cody asked. "All he'd need's a computer. Or a phone. Guy can write with the best of them, and it's not like he'd have to dig that deep for content. The murder at Screamin' Cream, DeWayne's body in the locker room, that druggie who tried to murder his best friend at the pharmacy? Come on, man—face it. That's gotta be what he's hiding, why he's so scared to let anyone in."

I sighed. "Not to mention the guy butchering people. Jac probably doesn't want to end up as the next target."

"If what you're saying is true," Dash mused, "then we have to tell the cops."

"Already on it," Cody said, turning to me. "You've still got Officer Longchamp's number, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded once, navigating to my most recent calls and tapping the topmost entry from the day before.

Cody and Brayden stared back at me with bated breath, Dash eye's fixed on the road but flicking to the rearview mirror in intermittent spurts.

"Hello?" Officer Longchamp's words cut through a wave of static as I pressed speakerphone. "Grey?"

"Yeah, it's me, Officer. I um...I've got something to tell you."

"I'm listening, kid. What's up?"

I gulped, turning back to Cody and Brayden. "I..."

"Jacquarious is in trouble," Cody blurted.

"What? What kind of trouble? Where is he?"

"We're not sure, but we think he's at the paper," I managed.

"The newspaper?"

"Y-yeah," I said. "Our English teacher was talking to him on the phone, and then she ran out of the store. We're following her now, and it looks like she's headed to US & The World."

"Your English teacher?" He paused. "Regina Cabot?"

"That's her," Cody said.

"That woman keeps inserting herself in the middle of everything." He sighed. "Alright, I'm on my way. I'll let you boys know what I find."

"Tell him we're only a few minutes out," Dash said from the driver's seat. "We can—"

"What!?" Officer Longchamp yelped from the other end. "You boys need to go home. Do not get involved."

"It's no trouble, sir," Dash said over his shoulder. "We can just—"

"No," Officer Longchamp's authoritative reprimand cut through the speaker, then he sighed again. "There's something you boys don't know."

I swallowed hard, Cody and Brayden both leaning closer to my phone.

"The newspaper, the one where Mrs. Cabot works...they received a message a few days ago. Whoever this killer is, he's demanding frontpage coverage. But US & The World is playing by its own rules. They've got their new editorialist 'handling things,' as Regina calls it."

"I'm guessing you don't think that's enough," I said.

"Not even close, kid. Psychos like this guy aren't above slaughtering innocents just to make a point. Mrs. Cabot's office was already broken into, and we couldn't find a trace of the perp on any of the security footage. No way should that lady be going there alone this late at night, and neither should any of you."

"We're not alone," I tried. "It's the four of us, and we're trying to help Jacquarious...and Mrs. Cabot. We're almost there; and if this guy really is that dangerous, every second counts."

"Grey," Officer Longchamp growled. "You need to stop. Please. You and your friends are going to get seriously hurt."

"We can't stop," I said finally. "You don't understand. Jacquarious is...he's...."

The officer's silence echoed on the other end.

"He's Whiteface."

"...What?"

"He's not just an intern—and I'm starting to think maybe the killer knows that too."

"Grey..." Officer Longchamp exhaled a long and bated breath. "If...if you're sure about this—"

The asphalt crunched under Dash's tires as we pulled into the parking lot at US & The World.

"Gotta go," I mused. "We're headed inside." I clicked off my phone, then I looked up to meet the gaze of my three best friends, the shadow of the country's largest printing press draping us in a cloak of purest, blackest terror.