That noise at the construction site—gravel crunching—sticks with me. I didn’t see anyone, didn’t catch them, but it’s got me rattled. Morgan brushed it off—“just wind,” he said—but I’m not so sure. There’s something about the way Jamie’s been acting that makes my gut churn.
He’s digging, I can feel it. Jamie’s smart—smarter than I gave him credit for—and with Casey in the mix, he’s dangerous. Ever since I trashed his room, he’s been poking around, asking questions, getting closer. The notes, the sketches in red—they scared him, sure, but it wasn’t enough.
He’s still pushing, still looking for answers, and it’s getting too close for comfort now. That slip-up with the IP address Casey found, the emails Morgan’s been sending—it’s all starting to come apart. I can feel it closing in around me.
I’ve got to stop them cold, and I have to do it before they figure out too much.
No more little warnings, no more half-hearted efforts to throw Jamie off. If this is going to work, it’s time to go big.
Jamie can’t slip out of this. Not now, not with everything hanging in the balance. It’s time to frame him properly—trap him so deep that there’s no way out.
I’m pacing my dorm, the soles of my shoes tapping restlessly against the hard floor, my head buzzing with thoughts and plans.
Morgan’s right, of course—we need more. Something big. Something undeniable. Theft—bookstore money. That’s the key. Alex is starting to doubt Jamie, but he’s still clinging to some hope, still holding onto Jamie’s side. He’s not sure about me yet, and that’s where I can get in.
It’ll be perfect. I’ll steal the money, pin it on Jamie, make the whole town turn on him even harder. He’s already the cheat, the liar—the town’s turned their back on him. This? This will turn them all against him for good.
Now, he’ll be a thief, too, stealing from the guy who gave him a chance when nobody else would. It’s perfect—mean, yes, but that’s the point. It’ll break Alex’s trust for good. It’ll ruin Jamie. He’ll never recover from this.
I wait until the town is quiet—late, past midnight—when everyone’s asleep and the streets are still. The bookstore is easy to get into. I know it by heart. I’ve watched Alex lock up a hundred times, watched where he keeps things, what he does before he leaves.
I grab a hoodie, dark jeans, and slip out into the night. My hands are shaky, but steady enough to make this work. The streets are empty, the only sound the wind rustling through the trees. I stick to the alleys, moving quickly, staying in the shadows.
I’ve got Jamie’s old key—the one I stole from his bag months ago, before Alex kicked him out. It’s small, a little scratched, but it’ll work. My heart races, a cocktail of excitement and nerves swirling in my chest. This is it.
This is the moment.
I reach the bookstore, my breath steady despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The sign’s off, windows dark. I slide the key into the lock, turning it slowly, quietly. The lock clicks open, and I slip inside, careful not to make a sound.
Inside, it’s still. The shelves loom like dark giants in the quiet, the counter a shadow in the corner. I know where everything is. I’ve seen it all a hundred times. I know where Alex keeps the money—back office, in a little safe under the desk.
I’ve been there before. He showed me once, months ago, laughing about how old and outdated it was. I make my way through the store, my footsteps barely a whisper on the wood floors, and slip into the office. The safe is there, rusty, a relic from a time when Alex didn’t think anyone would try to steal from him.
I punch in the code—his birthday, the same code he always uses. It clicks open, and I grab the cash. Hundreds—maybe a grand, stuffed into a small metal box. My hands sweat as I gather the money quickly, stuffing it into my bag.
It’s real. Heavy. This is it—the piece that’ll send Jamie to the edge.
Now I’ve got to plant the evidence. Make it look like Jamie did this—make it look like he’s the one who stole from Alex. I reach into my bag and pull out a receipt—an old one from his wallet, snagged when I broke into his room.
It’s crumpled, coffee-stained, with his name scribbled on it. It’s perfect—looks like he left it behind, careless in his panic. I drop it near the safe, just where it’ll be easy to find. Then, I take a pen from my pocket—one I snatched from Jamie’s desk during one of my visits—and toss it onto the floor.
It’s sloppy, it’s perfect. It looks like Jamie panicked, stole the money, and ran. It’s a mess, a chaotic scene—exactly what I need. The cops will buy it. Alex will believe it. Jamie’s done.
I step back, my heart pounding in my chest, and admire the scene.
This is how it ends. Alex will find the mess in the morning. He’ll find the receipt, the pen—he’ll put it all together and think Jamie did it. The whole town will turn on him even harder. I’ve won.
I lock the door behind me, slipping back into the night, moving quickly and quietly.
The town’s already cold to Jamie—whispers, dirty looks as he walks down the street. This will freeze him out for good. I hear it the next day when I stop by the coffee shop, standing in line for my drink.
People are talking, low and angry. “The bookstore got hit,” someone mutters, sipping their coffee. “Cash is gone—guess who they’re blaming?” A woman snorts, “That Lawson kid—figures, after the cheating.” My chest buzzes with satisfaction, warm and sharp. It’s working.
They’re buying it. The whispers are getting louder, the town’s turning harder against him. I sip my drink, hiding my grin, and watch the room. Casey’s there, behind the counter, her face tight. She knows—she suspects me, but she can’t prove anything.
Not yet. Jamie’s name is mud now, colder than ever.
Later, I check in with Alex, playing the concerned friend. I swing by the bookstore, all soft and worried. “Heard about the money,” I say, leaning on the counter, my voice low.
“You okay?” Alex looks pale, his eyes dark, his hands shaking slightly as he sorts through papers. “Yeah,” he mutters, rough. “The cops are looking into it.” I nod, slow, letting the words sink in. “Jamie’s been around, hasn’t he?
Weird timing.” I see it in Alex’s face—just a flicker, a quick flinch. It’s working. He’s starting to doubt Jamie, starting to wonder. He’ll believe it. I’ve got him now.
That night, back in my dorm, I wait, buzzing with excitement.
My phone pings late, a text from Alex: “Money’s gone. Found something.” My heart leaps. He’s got it. The receipt. The pen. He’s found it all. I picture him in the store, alone, digging through the office, finding the clues I planted.
I’ve buried him under a mountain of evidence. There’s no way out. I’ve won—Jamie’s not just out of the picture, he’s a thief now. And Alex? He won’t save him. Not this time.
I lean back in my chair, my grin wide, feeling the thrill of victory flood my veins.