The Chamber of Five Read online

  The chancellor stood. “I just heard another threat, Mr. Singletary.” He picked up the phone again, keeping his eyes on Thomas. “Sit down right now. I’m calling security, then the police, and you will remain here until they arrive. You are dangerous.”

  Thomas smiled, the wicked slit of his mouth hard and thin. “Or what?”

  He dialed. “Yes, send security to my office immediately and call the police.”

  I was speechless, because deep down inside, I knew Thomas was right. I’d been on the receiving end of things just like Carter, and I’d never thought about the other side. My father had been right all along, too. Life wasn’t what you did, it was who you were, and I’d just seen it happen in the most horrible way.

  He hung up. “You will be detained until the police arrive. Sit down.”

  Thomas took a step toward the chancellor, balling his hand into a fist. He slammed it down on the desk, scattering a pen and bouncing a paperweight. “OR WHAT?”

  Fear flooded into Chancellor Patterson’s eyes, and his face drained of color. Silence.

  I stood. “Don’t, Thomas. Just leave. Go.”

  Thomas nodded, his whole being exuding quiet and dangerous rage. “That’s what I thought,” he said, contempt oozing from him. Then he turned. As he walked past me, he bent, whispering in my ear, “It ends now. Stay away.” Then he was gone, out the door and running down the hall.

  The chancellor took a moment, staring at the open door, then regained his composure. “You are all dismissed until further notice.”

  Elvis spoke. “What about the election? You said …”

  The chancellor cleared his throat. “I am taking Mr. Singletary’s admission into consideration. As of now, the three of you are valid candidates. But,” he said, “that may change depending on circumstances. I will be contacting each of your parents for further discussion on the matter.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  AT TWO-FIFTEEN, in the middle of fifth period, the intercom crackled, and every head in the room looked up at the old box above the door. Since leaving the chancellor’s office, I’d felt like I was living in some kind of surreal counteruniverse. No fewer than a dozen people had come up and asked me about the video.

  “Attention.” The voice came, fuzzy and too loud. I held my breath, not sure of what I wanted to hear. “The final votes for the Lambert student council elections have been tallied, and we have our winners. The results are as follows. For the position of president, the winner is … Jason Weatherby.”

  Pause. Nobody in class knew what to do. A few people clapped, but there was an air of tension in the room. The video had been powerful. Very powerful, and people were wondering more about that than the election.

  “For the position of vice president, the winner is … Brooke Naples.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “For the position of treasurer, the winner is … Talbott Presley … otherwise known as … Elvis.”

  The class cheered after this announcement, and I realized that besides us, the rich kids, the brainiacs supported their own, and Elvis was definitely one of them. They had their lines of loyalty just like the Chamber did.

  “For the position of secretary, we have a forced withdrawal from the race. Thomas Singletary won with the most votes, but due to disregard for election protocol, he has been removed. Michael Woodside will be our new secretary.”

  Silence. They didn’t know Woodsie was on our side, and the collective tension in the room turned to gloom. I heard a couple of no ways after that, but kept my silence. They’d find out soon enough, and besides that, I didn’t know what the hell was going to happen. The only thing I knew was that I was more concerned about what Singletary was going to do than what would happen to me.

  But we’d won, and if this all worked out, I’d keep my word. I’d take down the Chamber.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “HE’S NOT DONE, you know.”

  I looked at Brooke. We sat in my car after school. Elvis was in the backseat, staring at the roof. “I agree with Brooke. He’s a nut. You could tell in the office he went over the edge.”

  I nodded. “Can’t really blame him.”

  Brooke shook her head. “He scares me, Jason. Something isn’t right with him.”

  “I know. I just don’t know what. I can’t figure it out.”

  Elvis snorted. “And it’s not just the school. It’s Carter. More like a personal thing.”

  “He faked his records to get into Lambert.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Almost like he’s stalking Carter.”

  “Told you he’s a nut,” Elvis said.

  My phone rang, and I opened it. It was my dad. “Hello?”

  “You know it’s me, son. We need to speak. Now.”

  “I take it the school called?”

  “Yes. It seems that after I left, a video was played.”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I sighed. “Dad, please. I got into this mess, and I’ll get out of it.”

  “It’s beyond that. The chancellor wants a meeting. You, your mother, and I. He’s talking about possible expulsion if the investigation shows you knew about the video.”

  “I’m sure you’ll make it all go away, right?” I mocked.

  “No. Not this time.”

  “I can’t come home. Not now.”

  His voice lowered. “Jason …”

  “No, Dad, I have to fix this. Somebody is going to get hurt, and I can’t let it happen.”

  “Then I’m calling the chancellor back and contacting the police. This is not your business.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “This Thomas Singletary character. The chancellor told me there is trouble between Carter and him.”

  “It is my business. I helped make it all happen.”

  “Come home. Your mother is here, too, and I’ve promised her nothing will happen. Just talk. We’ll let the authorities do their job, and we’ll do ours.”

  “Dad, will you please just trust me? For once?”

  “Jason, Chancellor Patterson told me how Thomas was behaving in his office. He believes the boy to be … on the edge. He said he was threatening. Come home.”

  I paused. “Sorry, Dad, I can’t.” Then I closed the phone.

  Brooke looked at me. “Wow. Did you really just do that?”

  “I guess so.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got to think.”

  “You think Thomas will really hurt Carter?”

  “He already broke his arm.”

  Elvis cut in. “Yeah, but just like he said, that was payback for ordering his arm busted. Not just out of nowhere.”

  I stared out the windshield. “Yeah. Payback.” A moment passed. “Listen, I’ve got to go.” I looked at Brooke. “Call me later?”

  “Jason …”

  I smiled. “I just blew my dad off, Brooke. You really think you’re going to change my mind?”

  Elvis guffawed. “I don’t think so.”

  I nodded. “Don’t worry. It’ll work out. I just have to talk to Thomas.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled. “You’re a horrible liar.”

  I shrugged. “That’s not fair. I have no idea if I’ll even be able to find him, and if I do, how could I know what would happen?”

  “Maybe your dad is right, then. Just call the police.”

  I fired the engine up. “Maybe he is right, but I’m a part of this. I brought Thomas into this deal.”

  She opened the door. “Call me later? Please?”

  “Sure.”

  She leaned over and kissed me. I kissed her back. She smiled. “Does this mean, you know, that we’re together?”

  Elvis groaned. “Emotional exchanges make me claustrophobic. Let me out.”

  Brooke moved her seat forwar
d. Elvis got out. She turned to me. “So?”

  I smiled. “So I’d love that.”

  “Not just because you saw me half-naked?”

  “No. I promise.” Then I kissed her again.

  She got out of the car. “I hope you know I’m calling the police about this, just like the school. And your dad. Everybody is right, Jason. He’s dangerous.”

  “If I find him and things are bad, I’ll call them myself.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  AS I DROVE, I thought about Thomas. Everything he’d done and said flashed through me, and there was something nagging at the edge of my mind. The poster. That was it. The poster of Carter’s father. Then the vodka with the shot glass. There was a connection there, and it was more than just humiliating Carter because his dad was a drunk. There was something else, too. It was too coincidental that Carter had picked Thomas for me to get rid of. Whatever I didn’t know, Carter did, and he’d known it all along.

  I hung a right and gunned it, shifting through the gears to the sound of the engine screaming, and flew down Dudley Avenue, braking hard when I reached the public-library parking lot.

  Inside, I found a free computer and sat down, glancing at my watch. Six-thirty. With a few clicks, I accessed the local newspaper archives and put a search in for Judge Logan. Years of stories showed up; page after page of news, judgments, verdicts, and rulings. I began as far back as the records went, scrolling, reading quickly, scanning for names. An hour passed and I’d only gotten through half of them.

  My eyes burned from concentrating, and then I hit it. The headline read “Judge Carter Logan Charged with DUI.” As I read the details of the arrest, I blinked, and my heart fluttered. The nightclub, the Blue Sapphire, was mentioned. Judge Logan had been driving home after a night of heavy drinking, and in the process had crashed his car, severely injuring a pedestrian. Reading further, I learned that the judge made a statement to police that the pedestrian had been crossing the street illegally and he’d not seen him. He refused to blow into a Breathalyzer, and was booked for driving under the influence. Blood tests conducted at the station were pending, and possible driving while intoxicated charges were awaiting complete analysis.

  I clicked out and scrolled down, seeing another headline. It read “Local Judge Charged with DUI, Reckless Endangerment After Hitting Pedestrian.” The person was listed in critical condition at Holy Family Hospital and was in a coma due to severe head trauma. He’d been walking to his car after a late night at work as an electrical engineer, drawing up plans for a new museum to be built honoring local war veterans.

  The next article was “Man Dies, Judge Logan Charged with Involuntary Manslaughter.” My stomach shriveled as I read: “The man, David Clinton Singletary, 42 and the father of two, succumbed to injuries suffered in the incident. His wife of thirteen years, Kimberly Singletary, said he was ‘dedicated to his family, a good dad and a wonderful husband. He will be missed.’ ”

  It went on to say that Judge Logan was freed on his own recognizance, which was rare in such cases, but due to his standing in the community, he wasn’t considered a flight risk. I sighed.

  Judge Logan killed Thomas Singletary’s father.

  I scrolled down to the next article, and it hit me like a double-barreled shotgun blast to the chest. “District Attorney Drops All Charges but One in Logan Manslaughter Case.” It stated that because the booking officer had not properly submitted the blood-alcohol report, there were no grounds to charge anything other than reckless endangerment. Manslaughter charges were dropped due to the pedestrian’s jaywalking at night; the investigation claimed that Mr. Singletary had been crossing the street illegally, two feet outside the crosswalk lines. Judge Logan’s attorneys had agreed to one year of rehabilitation and one year of community service. No trial had been held.

  It all fit.

  And now I knew why Thomas had traded out justice for payback, because there was no justice. Just a kid who’d lost a great dad and watched as the world ignored it. Watched as the powerful rolled a pair of loaded dice.

  I knew then that Thomas Singletary was dangerous. Very dangerous. Not just on the edge, but over it. I reasoned that if he’d go to the extreme pains of hacking school records to get into Lambert, bugging the Chamber, breaking Carter’s arm, and orchestrating that election video, the kid had never planned on Carter Logan’s simply being humiliated, ruined, and run out of Lambert. I shuddered.

  He wanted to kill him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I KNOCKED THE CHAIR over as I bolted from the library, digging for my keys and hopping in the Mustang. I blistered the pavement on the way out, skinning tracks of rubber as I shifted, smoke pouring from the tires. I had to get to him. To stop him.

  Thomas wasn’t stupid. The endgame was here, and time was running out. The police had been contacted, and they’d be looking for him. And if they didn’t get to him before he got to Carter, it would be over. Finished.

  It would be tonight. Somehow, somewhere, it would be tonight.

  I came to a stop in front of his apartment building and jumped out, running into the lobby and dashing down the hall. I knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened. A woman, slight, tired-looking, and with her hair braided, gazed at me.

  “Mrs. Singletary?”

  She was wary, uncertainty in her eyes. “Yes?”

  “My name is Jason Weatherby. Is Thomas here?”

  She paused, hesitant, then looked down the hall. “No. Why?”

  “I need to see him. Do you know where he is?”

  She stepped back, opening the door farther. “Are you one of his friends?”

  “Yes. Sort of. We go to school together.”

  Nothing followed the question in her eyes. A moment passed. “Will you please come in?”

  I took a breath. “I really need to talk to him, ma’am. If you could just tell me …”

  “Come in.”

  I nodded.

  As she led me in, I noticed the place was immaculate. Sparse, almost bare, and lit by a single lamp in the corner, it wasn’t what I’d expected, and I felt like a judgmental fool. I heard the muffled sound of a television coming from a bedroom to the left. Mrs. Singletary took a seat on the couch. “Why do you need to see my son?”

  “I go to school with him.”

  She nodded. “So you said. Please answer me.”

  “We’re running for student council together, and I just …”

  She shook her head. I stopped speaking. She frowned. “Three hours ago, the police knocked on my door asking the same as you. I’d appreciate your honesty, young man.”

  I grunted. There was nothing to lose but time, and I didn’t have any. “Thomas faked his records to get into Lambert, and he’s sort of got it in for another guy there. They don’t like each other.”

  “I know.”

  I screwed my eyes at her. “You knew he faked his way into Lambert?”

  “I didn’t know that, but the police told me about this trouble.” She paused. “Thomas always received high marks, and when he said he’d been accepted to Lambert, I didn’t have reason to think it wasn’t legitimate. I should have been more involved, but I have …” She looked away. “It’s been difficult since his father passed.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She cleared her throat. “Thomas has changed, and I work so much I’m simply not able to keep track of his life any longer. Will you please tell me what’s going on? The police don’t even know why.”

  “Didn’t the chancellor call you?”

  She shook her head. “I called the school after the police left in hopes that somebody would still be there. The chancellor was. Apparently, Thomas falsified our phone number in the school directory.”

  “What did the chancellor tell you?”

  “He explained that the other boy’s name was Carter.” She looked away, and her words trailed off.

  “Do you know who he is?”

  She shook her head.

  I took a b
reath. “His last name is Logan.”

  She stared at me for a moment, then tears formed in her eyes. “Oh God.”

  I realized then that this woman was owed much more than just the truth, but the truth was the only thing I could give. “I think Thomas is planning on killing Carter as payback. That’s why I need to find him.”

  A moment passed. “He wouldn’t do that.” She looked at me. “He’s a good boy. He’s angry, yes, but …”

  “He already broke Carter’s arm. I’ve got to find him.”

  She swallowed, gaining her composure. “I don’t know where he is.”

  I stood. “I’d better go.”

  “This is not your fault. It’s mine. I didn’t know how to deal with his hate, so I ignored it. I hoped he’d come out of it.”

  “I should go.”

  She sniffed, lowering her head. “This is my fault.”

  I had nothing to say to that, so I left.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  I SAT IN THE PARKING lot of Lambert, hidden in the darkest corner and away from the lamps casting circles of light on the pavement. I watched thousands of moths under those lights, drawn away from the darkness and toward the heat. Get too close and you die, I thought. Burnt alive. I’d driven by the Logan house and had seen nothing out of the ordinary as I studied the grounds in the darkness, even sneaking around back to peek in windows.

  If it would happen, I thought, it would happen here at Lambert. In the Chamber.

  I opened the car door and gently shut it, looking around the parking lot as I made my way toward the courtyard. The night was silent but for the fading buzz of the lights as I circled the main building, heading toward the spot where a little-known key to the gymnasium side door was hidden. It was gone, and my heart skipped a beat.

  I stepped up to the door and turned the handle. Unlocked. I opened it, slipping in quietly and easing it closed.