The Dead List by Jennifer L. Armentrout Page A

uncomfortable. “No.” And then I said it again. “ No .”
    “These things are common after traumatic events,” The officer who’d remained outside turned to my mom, speaking quietly. “Stress can do some strange things, make people believe that you’ve seen something not there.”
    I zoned them out as I turned back to the house. There was no way I was so stressed out that I imagined all of that. I wasn’t crazy.
    Red-hot anger bubbled up inside me, and I was walking toward my house before I even knew what I was doing.
    “Ella!” Mom called out.
    I ignored her and took the porch steps two at a time. I threw open the storm door and rushed up the stairs. I didn’t stop until I reached my bedroom and I stood in the doorway, breathing heavy.
    The window was closed.
    The bathroom door was open as were the closet doors. My gaze shifted to the bed and another wave of anger burst like a firecracker, a mixture of humiliation and frustration.
    My Care Bear sat on the pillows, minus the creepy clown mask and note.
    The cops probably thought I was crazy. So did my mom. But there was no way I could’ve imagined all of that.
    I crossed the bedroom, tugging the curtains back. The window was down. There was no lock on it, so it was entirely possibly that he’d bolted once I ran screaming from the room, taking the mask with him, and closed the window behind him. Getting up or down wasn’t hard. The tree was right up against the roof, and I knew that was possible. It had been done over and over before.
    But why?
    Did he plan on grabbing me or… or just scaring me? And, if he wanted to scare me, what for? I was already scared.
    I was terrified.
    “Baby.”
    Turning at the sound of her voice, I drew in a shallow breath. She came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “How could I’ve imagined that? I saw the mask on my bed. And I read the note. I felt the breeze from the open window. I heard my bathroom door move. How can you hallucinate all of that?”
    “I don’t think you hallucinated anything.”
    I folded my arms across my chest. “Then you believe me.”
    She lowered her gaze as she patted the spot next to her. Reluctant, I made my way over and sat beside her. “I believe you think you saw something. I heard the fear in your voice, but…”
    I scanned the room. Nothing was out of place that I saw.
    “But I do think it’s a good idea if I call Dr. Oliver tomorrow,” she continued, smiling gently when I turned a sharp look on her. “I think you need to talk to him.”
    “I don’t need to talk to him.” I locked up.
    She smoothed her hand through my hair. “All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t hurt to see Dr. Oliver. You haven’t been to him in a while.”
    My lips pressed into a thin line.
    “Ella, baby, you’ve been through a horrific event.” She reached down, pulling my arm away from my body. She threaded her fingers through mine. “And you’re going to have some leftover… issues from that. Look at it this way. You’re taking self-defense, right? Consider talking to Dr. Oliver as another lesson.”
    More like a lesson in feeling like a maladjusted teenager. Dr. Oliver wasn’t bad or anything, but I’d always left his office feeling like I needed Valium or something.
    “Okay,” I whispered, not liking it, but also knowing there was no other way out of it.
    Mom nodded as she squeezed my hand. “How was your lesson today? Did you learn anything?”
    I welcomed the change in subject as I eyed the bedroom, waiting for some creep to appear out of thin air. “Yeah. You’re not going to believe who’s teaching it.”
    “Who?”
    “Jensen Carver.”
    Mom blinked slowly. Of course she knew him. Mom had been like a… like a second mother to Jensen growing up. Just like Jensen’s mom had helped raise me.
    “Really,” she said finally, like that was the only thing she could say in response.
    At least that brought a wry grin to my face. “Yeah. I was surprised he agreed to do it, but he