The Darker Side

Chapter 4

Mikkal

The groggy Kendall answered the phone on the third ring, sacrificing his hand to the cool apartment air to flip it open and bring it to his ear. "'ello?" He slurred.

"Kendall, where is Logan?"

He shot up in bed, confused. "Mr. Roberts?" Why was Camille's dad calling him?

"Where's Logan?" Mr. Roberts asked again. "Kendall, I'm not kidding. Tell me where he is."

Kendall glanced at the clock. It was late but not too late so he was probably still with Camille. Maybe around ten. Those two got so carried away sometimes. How the heck did Logan have so much energy? "He's with Camille. I think they're still on their date."

Mr. Roberts growled. "No they're not. Someone drugged Camille, Kendall. She's in the hospital, out cold, and Logan's nowhere to be found."

"What?" Kendall exclaimed. He launched out of bed, "What are you talking about?...You don't...You don't think Logan drugged her?"

His answer was a beat of uncomfortable silence.

"You are!" Kendall accused. "Logan would never do that!"

"Well, he's missing!" He shouted angrily. "Some waitress found Camille passed out near the truck and Logan was no where to be seen!"

Kendall hurried into his mom's room and shook her awake frantically. "You've never liked Logan," he hissed to the man. "But that doesn't mean he's a bad person." He shocked him into stunned silence.

"Ken? What's wrong?" It wasn't everyday your seventeen year old son woke you up with such stark fear in his eyes. "What happened?"

He handed her the phone without a word (he knew Mr. Roberts was going to yelled at. She was a Mama Bear when it came to any of them) and went to wake up Carlos and James. Logan wouldn't do that, especially not to Camille. He really liked the crazy actress. Wait, what was he saying? Logan wouldn't do that to anyone.

Carlos blink blearily up at him. "What's going on?" He groaned, pulling the covers over his head.

"Go away." James shooed him, turning over.

Kendall grinned at his friends similar actions, then frowned. "Camille's been drugged, Logan's missing."

"What?"

"And the best part?" He added sarcastically. "Mr. Roberts thinks he did it."

"Innocent until proven guilty," Detective Juliet Spencer said. "I stand by that. Logan Mitchell will not be treated as a suspect until I'm holding the cold, hard evidence myself."

"He didn't do it," Camille protested from her hospital bed. "Someone attacked him before I passed out. There was some paper on the car, it... it scared him."

Mr. Roberts snorted. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but you were probably delirious from the roofies he gave you."

"He didn't give me roofies!"

Kendall growled. "Stop blaming everything on Logan. He wouldn't do this!" His hands clenched into fists, but Carlos kept him from punching the jerk.

The detective leveled the father with a hard look. "I understand your concern, Mr. Roberts, but until we have a definitive answer you can't go around blaming young men for something they quite possibly didn't do." She turned to Mrs. Knight. "I'm sorry to ask this: I need to see Logan's room."

James squeezed Camille's hand, a comforting smile on his face. "Everything's going to be fine."

She smiled. "I know."

Spencer followed the extended family in her own car, whistling when she got a good look at their apartment. "Wow, I wish I had this as a kid."

Carlos puffed up his chest proudly, grinning his head off. He loved their place, and he loved the story on how they got it. Zany schemes were always awesome.

"This is our room," Kendall said, leading her in. "Me and Logan share this, Carlos and James share the other one."

What she wasn't expecting to find in a teenage boy's room was a bedside table drawer with a stack of photos, two letters, a slip of paper, and a water bottle with a note on it. And these weren't just there to be there. They were positively disturbing. Spencer felt a little creeped out, which was weird considering her job.

"Did anything weird happen recently?"

Kendall scratched his cheek. Finally, he could tell someone the horrible feeling he's had. Someone important too. "He's been acting funny since we opened fan mail a couple weeks ago. And he freaked out when he pulled something out of his jacket a the other day. I think it was something bad. He's been scared and distant and earlier today he was practically yelling at us."

She nodded. The first letter was in an envelope, that could be the fan letter he receive. The other letter was crumbled up, that could be from his jacket. The slip of paper and the water bottle? Only Logan could tell them that.

Carlos snuck a glance at the bottle, paling at the dark words.

You. Basement. Me. Now.

"He was holding that when he came from practice earlier," he said. "That's when he finally yelled at us."

Spencer sighed. "Your friend has a stalker," she announced. "And I think the stalker is the one that hurt Miss. Roberts. She was threatened in both of the letters."

What she couldn't understand was why this stalker was acting so quickly. Normally it didn't work like this. It started out with little hints, something odd at several concerts (musicians tended to get a lot of stalkers) and that one person that was seen everywhere. Then it was the gifts, little trinkets spread out over months until they got bigger. Letters happened every now and then. Not as creepy at first, just normal fan mail, and then increasingly personal and mental. After months and months, or even years, of that the stalker would finally make their move.

Stalkers didn't want to hurt the person, they just wanted to keep them for themselves...in a bizarre way.. So why was this one different?

Logan woke with a jolt and a groan of pain, head pounding—alternating between a hammer and a pick axe. He grabbed his head, but only one of his hands made it. His eyes shot open and he pulled his left hand again only to be met with the rattling of a chain and something cutting into his arm.

Handcuffs. He was handcuffed to a freaking pipe. Can this day get any worse?

"Oh good, you're awake. I was kind of worried I had hit you too hard."

He squinted up at the person, jaw dropping. "Sally?"

The barista at Spill the Beans Coffee House smiled sweetly at him. "You're one of the few people who bothered to remember my name," she said fondly. "And we've only talked a couple times."

Logan was stunned. Sally seemed such a nice, normal person when they talked those handful of times. But he couldn't claim it was a joke anymore, Camille was a good actress but being drugged took more than acting to make the symptoms real.

...Camille...

"I didn't touch her!" He exclaimed. "I didn't touch her so why did you drug her?"

Sally waved her hands dismissively. "I was going to drug her either way. Trust me, I wanted to hurt her more, but I figured you'd like me even less if I did that." She got close to him, breath warming his cheek. "And I really, really want you to like me."

"You're crazy!"

"I maybe," she said. "But hopefully I can change you mind. I'd hate for you to think that for too long. I really don't want to hurt you."

With that she climbed the basement stairs and left, plunging the room into darkness. Logan couldn't do anything but sit there and wait.

Wait for either her to return or someone to find him.