An hour later, Chip and I were sneaking around campus praying not to be seen by the security guards. The grounds that are normally lit up, even at night, have all the lights turned off after curfew. The only light is from the occasional headlight of the go-kart the security officers ride around campus. 

And our phone flashlights. 

Chip has been unusually quiet as we make our way through the campus. I'm not sure where we are, but I know that we passed the art building just a few minutes ago.  We turned onto a trail, but it isn't paved. My feet have constantly been crunching gravel as we have tried to move as quietly as possible. Not that my giant steps are anything but extremely loud.

"How are you able to walk so quietly?" I whisper to him. 

He chuckles to himself as he takes another silent step and turns his head back to me. "My dad used to take my brothers and me hunting every year. You have to be quiet to sneak up on a deer. It's all about shifting your weight to your toes so you aren't slamming down on the middle of your feet." 

I try and copy his advice, but even my tip-toe steps sound like a building caving in. 

"Where are we going, Chip?" 

"We are going to the teacher's complex," Chip answers. "It's not something that gets advertised, but there is a group of houses that the faculty stay in. Mr. Goldstone stays in them now that his divorce is finalized." 

The way he said Mr. Goldstone's name sounded like he had a bad taste in his mouth. He's been very guarded with what he's said since I told him about the affair with Victoria. I wonder if Chip liked him as his teacher before all of this. Did he feel betrayed? Did he feel angry? 

I wish I knew what to say to him. I can't imagine what it's like for Chip to have read the diary of his ex that passed away. Did it hurt him to know that she felt strongly for him but nothing came of it? Did I rip open a wound that he thought he covered? 

This would have been easier if Chip wasn't the one that Victoria secretly dated. That sounds selfish of me, but seriously? What were the odds of that happening? If Chip and Victoria were never a couple I wouldn't have to worry about the ghost of a girl from his past interfering with now, but at the same time, it's nice to have someone with me that knows everything. There really are no more secrets between us. He knows everything. 

And in this deadly game of cat and mouse, there are now two mice.

I grab onto his arm and he stops walking. His face turns toward mine, and I flash my phone onto his face. His eyes look sad, but his face as a whole looks neutral. He gives me a half smile that I know is fake and I wrap him in a tight hug before he has time to protest. He stands still for a moment before he wraps his arms around my waist. 

"I'm sorry I've opened up all this garbage. This isn't what you signed up for this year." 

"It's not your fault," he whispers back. 

He doesn't let go of the hug and my heart struggles to not beat quicker as his strong arms squeeze me. I hesitate for a minute before I lean my head into his neck and bury my face in his chest. His cedar cologne blinds my senses for a minute before he lets go and kisses my forehead. 

"We should keep moving and get set up," he whispers. 

I ache to go back to the hug, but I know that he's right. We continue to make our way down the dark trail before we see a row of seven houses with the lights on. The houses are small one-story buildings that are only a few feet away from each other. The houses don't have a driveway, but rather a parking lot where each of the teachers park their cars. Each has a little flower bed that lines under the large front window that looks to lead into the living room of each building. 

 Most of the houses have curtains over the windows and we can only see the outline of the light shining around them, but there, in the very middle of a row of houses is Bryan Goldstone scrolling on his phone with the television on. His curtains are wide open. His living room is bare and has a single couch and a coffee table other than the large television mounted on the wall. A box of pizza lays open on the coffee table with a half-eaten piece sitting on top of it. He looks dressed up like he's going to go somewhere nice, and my chest tightens at the thought of Anne-Marie.

"His ex took him to the cleaners," whispers Chip as he makes a face at the state of the living room. 

"He's dressed up," I say changing the subject. "Look at his outfit. Who dresses up like that in their home," I look down at my phone. It's almost eleven o'clock at night. "Eleven?" 

Chip whistles quietly. "You're right. Maybe Mr. Goldstone has a late-night date." 

I shiver at the implication of that given who I think his latest victim is. 

We watch as he stands up and walks into another room of his house. He is gone for a few minutes before he returns with his car keys in his hands. He turns off the lights in his building before he bends down on the porch to get a house key and locks the front door. 

"He left the key," whispers Chip. 

Goldstone walks to his car and disappears, and Chip and I are left in complete silence as we look at the empty house. The empty house that could have all the answers that we're looking for on Victoria's death. 

The house where she could have died since her body was moved. 

"Well, so much for a stakeout. He isn't even here-"

Before he can finish his sentence I'm running in a crouch across the parking lot and digging under the welcome mat of Goldstone's home. I grab the key and throw it into the lock before I feel a strong hand wrap around mine. 

"You're breaking and entering. This is crossing lines we haven't talked about yet," Chip whispers sternly.

"We won't get another chance like this." 

I yank my hand out of his and open the door. 

The smell of expensive cologne and pizza hit me in the face the second I walk into the house. I gag at the initial smell, but my sense of smell slowly starts to get used to the overwhelming odor. When you walk into the house, the first room you're faced with is the small living room. Directly behind the living room and separated by a wall with a bar in the middle of it is an out-of-date kitchen. 

I walk into the house with Chip silently protesting behind me as he frantically steps in and closes the door as quickly as possible. He has his head in his hands and is muttering something I can't make out. 

I take the first step into the living room. 

This is it, Elena. You're breaking the law. You're walking into the house of your literature teacher who is a predator and a potential murderer. You're breaking the law. 

I'm so going to end up the star of one of those missing-person podcast. 

The living room is as bare as it looked outside through the window, but when I walk into the kitchen it looks a little more lived in. Mainly the giant pile of dishes that reside in the sink. I scrunch up my nose at the caked-on condiments and sauces on the plates and utensils. 

"You'd think he'd at least rinse them off," I whisper to Chip who has yet to step foot into the living room. "That's disgusting." 

On the side of the living room is a single bedroom. I gulp as I take a step toward it, and feel Chip suddenly rush behind me. "You're not doing this alone," he whispers. My heart gushes at his words, and I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude wash over me. 

I reach down and grab his hand as we step into Mr. Goldstone's bedroom. Articles of clothing lie everywhere on the floor. His room smells more what I'd imagine a boy's locker room to smell like. Judging by Chip's reaction I would say I'm not too far off. A small bathroom lies on the other side of the room across from his closet. A single queen-sized bed with no sheets lay in the center of the room.

"This man is teaching us classics?" Chip says appalled. "He can't even do basic laundry and dishes! And no sheets on his bed?! Are you kidding me?"

I shake my head in agreement as I make my way over to his closet and open it up. I begin to dig through it, hoping that the already messy status of his room will allow me a little grace as I dig through the heaps of dirty clothes and shoes in the closet. 

"What are you looking for?" Chip asks me.

That's a good question. I have no idea what I'm looking for. Proof that Victoria and Goldstone were in a relationship? Maybe he's one of those psycho serial killers that keep souvenirs of his victims? I don't know what I'm looking for, but I know I'll know when I see it.

"Anything that connects Victoria to Mr. Goldstone," I whisper back. 

Accepting that there isn't going to be anything on the closet floor, I turn on the light in the closet and begin to look through the top shelves. He has a bunch of boxes on the shelf, but one the size of a shoe box catches my eye. I reach up and grab it, but it's too high on the shelf for me to reach it. 

I try to jump, but I'm only able to barely touch it as my fingers brush the bottom corner of the box. I look at Chip pleadingly and he chuckles as he reaches up with his long arm and grabs the box. 

"Thank you," I say opening it.

My mouth goes dry when I see what is inside. 

At least fifty photos of Victoria and Goldstone sit in this box. Pictures of them being goofy together. Pictures of her lounging on his couch in his sweats and hoodies. Pictures of her kissing his cheek. Pictures of him with his arms wrapped around her in the mirror. 

"Oh my god," I whisper to Chip. 

He looks furious as I take one of the pictures of Victoria kissing his cheek, and the picture of his arms wrapped around her in the mirror and pocket them in my black hoodie. "Chip, are you okay?" I whisper.

"I was hoping it wasn't true." 

"We've nailed him, Chip," I tell him with sincerity. "He'll never do this again." 

He nods at me when we hear the front door open and close loudly. My heart stops beating as Chip throws his hands around my mouth and dives into the closet of dirty clothes. He slowly reaches up and closes the closet door right as Mr. Goldstone comes stalking into the room. 

"Bryan I told you I have class tomorrow," he mocks angrily as he moves around his bedroom. "I don't have time for a long meet-up. Don't you have papers to grade or something? Fucking piece of work she is." 

He storms into the bathroom and I hear the shower turn on. Chip hasn't removed his hand from over my mouth, and I'm grateful. I'm not sure I'd be able to keep my breathing under control otherwise. 

"We're going to give him a few minutes to get in and start washing and then we're going to get out," whispers Chip so quietly it's almost silent. "Nod if you understand me." 

I nod my head, and he slowly removes his hand from my mouth. We sit for what feels like hours in absolute silence before Chip finally opens the closet door. We slowly make our way out of the room, stepping over the hazardous piles of clothes and shoes before we finally make it back to the living room. 

We make our way to the front door when I reach into my hoodie pocket and gasp. "Chip, the pictures! They fell out of my pocket." 

"We can't go back-" 

Before he can finish I'm running back across the living room and diving back into the closet. The picture lay exactly where I sat curled up into Chip waiting for Goldstone to get into the shower. Chip is right behind me when I put the picture back into my pocket when we both hear the water in the shower turn off. 

"Shit!" Chip whispers. 

I try to hide back in the closet, but Chip grabs my hand and we try and run back toward the front door. As we jump over the large piles of clothing on the floor, I trip right in front of the bedroom door and land on the ground with a large thud.

"Is someone there?" Goldstone calls from the bathroom. "Anne-Marie?" he walks out wearing a large plush maroon robe and locks eyes with Chip and I standing in his bedroom. 

"Elena?" he asks cautiously. "Chip?" 

"Oh my god," I say trying to stand up and play off this horrendously dangerous moment. "Chip! I must have been sleepwalking again! Thank you so much for walking with me instead of waking me up!" I turn to Mr. Goldstone and smile. "Did you know that waking up a sleepwalker is super dangerous? Well, we'll just be on our way-"

"Stop moving," says Mr. Goldstone. 

He runs over to me and grabs my arm. Chip tries to fight him off, but he hurls me toward the couch and I yelp as my back slams into the hardwood of the arm. "Do not touch her like that again, Goldstone," Chip says threateningly. 

"You're not exactly in a position to talk to me in that tone, Chip," says Goldstone as he motions for him to sit down on the couch. He grabs his phone out of the pocket of his robe and unlocks it and begins to dial 9-1-1. 

You're screwed. You blew it, Elena! You had one shot to break out of Kilgore and you threw it all away. 

And Victoria's potential murderer is still out there. You lost.

I start to bounce in place on the couch before I feel the sharp edge of the photograph in my pocket. I look over at Chip who looks just as panicked as I did before I take a deep breath and look at Mr. Goldstone with determination. 

I don't lose. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I tell him.

"Oh?" he says amused. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the police and have both of you expelled right now?" 

I reach into my pocket and pull out the picture of Goldstone with his arms around Victoria in the mirror. His face pales as he immediately lunges for me at my spot on the couch. Chip is quick to hold his foot up, and Mr. Goldstone's chest slams straight into his foot. 

"If you think this is the only copy we have, you're crazy. Mr. Goldstone not only were you stupid enough to have a relationship with a student, but you were dumb enough to document it," I pull out my phone and quickly snap a picture of the photo he knows I have. I might not have had extra copies before, but now I sure do.  "All it takes is one email and your life gets blown up." 

Goldstone breathes heavily as he looks back between Chip and me. He walks over to the curtains across the room and tugs them tightly closed before he turns around and glares at us. "What do you want?" 

"We want to ask you a few questions about the death of Victoria Caldwell."