Copycat Read online

  Also by Hannah Jayne

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  See Jane Run

  The Dare

  The Escape

  Twisted

  The Revenge

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  Copyright © 2018 by Hannah Jayne

  Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Elsie Lyons

  Cover image © Giovan Battista D’Achille/Trevillion Images

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Fire, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  sourcebooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Jayne, Hannah, author.

  Title: Copycat / Hannah Jayne.

  Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Fire, [2018] | Summary: Addie is obsessed with a series of mystery novels, even writing fan fiction based on them, but when a similar murder happens in her own town, she is not prepared.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017061765

  Subjects: | CYAC: Mystery and detective stories. | Murder--Fiction. | Books and reading--Fiction. | High schools--Fiction. | Schools--Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.J348 Cop 2018 | DDC [Fic]--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017061765

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  One

  There was something inordinately creepy about being at school after dark. The place was deserted—the benches and picnic tables in the quad looked ominous and foreboding under the flickering yellow lights. Crystal Lanier shivered and pulled her jacket tighter against an imaginary chill. The weather was mild at Gap Lake in September; the days still sunbaked, the nights, like this one, a gentle mix of fading summer and impending fall. But the bare bones of the deserted campus had put a chill in the air, and shot a blast of cold right through Crystal.

  “I’m creeping myself out,” she muttered shifting her books from one arm to the other.

  A wisp of wind cut through the quad. Crystal was almost sure she heard someone laughing—a weak, choked giggle, like someone was trying to swallow it down.

  “Hello?”

  She spun, her long black hair fanning over her shoulders. “Is someone there?” She knew she sounded like every horror movie victim ever, and her heart hammered in her throat as her skin prickled with beads of sweat.

  This was Gap Lake, she reminded herself. It was a tiny town where everyone knew everyone else, and nothing bad ever happened. She was thinking that when the shadow approached. When he reached out for her long black hair. She was thinking what a nice, safe place Gap Lake was when he clamped a hand over her mouth. When he strangled her scream and drove the needle straight into her throat.

  ***

  “Addison!”

  Addison glanced up and blinked, feeling redness stain her cheeks and ears. She closed the book slowly, looking around at the two dozen sets of eyes staring back at her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Mrs. Lea took two steps forward and held out her hand. Addison cleared her throat and shifted in her seat.

  “The book, Addison.”

  Reluctantly, Addison handed over the dog-eared book.

  “Can I get it back after class, please?” she asked, her voice meek.

  ***

  Maya Garcia hiked her backpack over her shoulders and stepped into the junior hallway. “Okay, how many times has Mrs. Lea taken that thing from you?”

  Addison shrugged, falling into step with her best friend. “Let’s see, I’ve read it about fifty-seven times so…fifty-six?”

  “You are the biggest, nerdiest R. J. Rosen fan ever.”

  “Hey, I’m president of his fan club. It’s mainly research.”

  Maya shook her head sadly. “It’s borderline obsessive.”

  “Who you calling borderline?” Addison flashed a wide grin. “It’s not entirely my fault. Rosen needs to write faster. If he could keep up with the public’s rabid love for the Gap Lake mysteries, I wouldn’t need to constantly reread—”

  “And reread and reread. And write massive amounts of fan fiction.”

  Addison rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Adds. I love the books too, but you’re a teenager. You need a more destructive hobby to fit in.”

  Addison nodded sagely. “I see where you’re coming from. What do you suggest?”

  “Drinking, drugs, reckless driving.”

  “First of all, to drive recklessly, I’d have to drive, which I will not. And as for the other stuff, what am I? A stereotype?”

  Maya narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I feel like you’re not taking me seriously.”

  Addison stopped at locker 221 and spun the lock, pulling open the metal door. “I like to read. So what?”

  Maya yanked a handful of books out of Addison’s locker before dumping them back in again. “So, you should shelve a few hundred of these books and live in the here and now with the rest of us who have boyfri
ends who don’t live only on paper.”

  “Number one, have you read the first Gap Lake book? Not only is Crystal’s boyfriend, Declan Levy, not a one-dimensional paper product, he may or may not be responsible for her murder—I vote not. But if that doesn’t make a rounded character, I don’t know what does.”

  “Character,” Maya enunciated. “That’s the magic word. A character is not a real person.”

  “And speaking of not real people, who’s this boyfriend of yours you seem to be referring to?”

  A fierce blush crept across Maya’s olive cheeks. “I didn’t say that I had a boyfriend. But there are possibilities. Men in the wings. Plans afoot and so forth and…stuff.”

  “‘Plans afoot’? ‘So forth and stuff’? Who are you?”

  Maya put her hands on her hips. “I’m your best friend, Addie. Remember me? I’m not a mystery novel, but I’m pretty damn fantastic if I say so myself.”

  Addie pulled the book back. She gave it a quick kiss, before stashing the book in her backpack.

  Maya gaped. “Did you just kiss a book? Seriously?”

  “It’s my lifeblood.”

  Maya cocked an eyebrow and Addie shrugged.

  “Okay, so it’s research.”

  “Tell me you still want to be a writer and haven’t decided on serial killing as a career goal.”

  “According to my father, the latter pays better.”

  “How is the wolf of Wall Street?”

  Addie blew out a sigh. “Buying low, selling high, still wishing his disappointing daughter had a penis or a power tie.”

  “Well, I know what to get you for Christmas.” Maya stopped dead in her tracks. “Don’t look, but you’re being ogled. Possibly even being fantasized about in weird and uber-sexual ways.”

  Addie immediately crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Now I feel skeevy.”

  “I’d pay a thousand bucks if Spencer Cohen was staring at me that way.”

  Addie shrugged, trying to play it off like she didn’t care. “You need a life.”

  Maya groaned and shook Addie’s arm. “And you need two feet in reality or you’re going to prom with a cardboard cutout.”

  “If it’s a cardboard cutout of Declan Levy, sign me up.”

  “So you are into serial killers.”

  “Declan didn’t do it!”

  Maya rolled her eyes. “Declan totally did it. He killed Crystal, then did Andy and Rhodes. It’s textbook. I know because I am the daughter of cops, times two.” She held up two fingers a half inch from Addie’s nose. “He had motive, opportunity—all those other CSI words.”

  “That’s what the author wants you to think. And you totally fell for it! You are so R. J. Rosen’s target audience!”

  “And you’re his secret side chick.”

  Addie snorted. “I prefer biggest fan.”

  “Well, it seems like Spencer Cohen is your biggest fan, and he’s coming over here.”

  “Hey, Addie.” Spencer grinned, one of those three-point grins that hit his dark-brown eyes, chin dimple, and Crest-white smile.

  I’m not in love with Spencer, she told herself. Infatuation. Puppy love, maybe. He’s just so cute…

  “Hey, Spencer.”

  Maya stepped forward. “Addie was just telling me how much she loves water polo. And dancing.”

  Addie blinked. “I was?”

  “I play water polo.” Spencer brightened and Addie gritted her teeth. She had been to nearly every one of his matches. True, she was usually up on the last bleacher with her nose in a book, but she watched whenever Spencer was in the pool. He never even noticed her.

  “Yeah,” she said with a slow nod. “I’ve seen. I mean I know. I know because I’ve seen you. Not in a weird way, like in a fan way. Not, like, a weird mega fan or anything but, like, a Hornets fan. You know.” Addie fisted her hand and punched at the air. “Go team!”

  Maya threaded her arm though Addie’s and gave it a yank. “We have to go.”

  “Why did you do that?” Addie hissed once they were out of earshot. “Spencer and I were having a conversation.”

  “Have you ever heard the term dead in the water? Because that’s what you were. ‘Go team’?” She shook her head sadly.

  “Did I sound that bad?”

  “Yes, yes you did.”

  Addie sighed. “See? That’s why I should stick to guys on paper.”

  “Oh honey,” Maya slid an arm over Addie’s shoulders. “At this point I don’t even think your book boyfriend would talk to you.”

  Two

  Addie fired up her laptop, shivering when her blog, GapLakeLove, populated the screen. The new layout thrilled her. She had started with a general template two years ago—something free from the host site with cartoon flowers and streaks of black and red. Her first post was a mid-book review of R. J. Rosen’s first Gap Lake book. She gushed for two pages, teasing her imaginary readers with her theories and CSI-style sleuthing. She pointed out foreshadowing and niggled around red herrings and murder motives. She dashed off two-hundred-word blocks of scenes she wished had been included or conversations she thought characters might have had behind closed doors. As she read the book, she went back to the site every night for three weeks, adding her own details, her own narratives, until she noticed the little page counter at the bottom of her screen: 22. Twenty-two people had read her ramblings or landed on her site by mistake or clicked through.

  No big deal.

  And then the counter hit 31, 66, 74, 108…

  By the time Addie was on to the next book, the counter had edged past the high four digits. The comments were trickling in: two a day, four a day—then nine for every post, eleven, eighteen, sixty-six.

  She had a following.

  Once her following passed twenty-six thousand, Addie invested a few bucks into the blog. She bought a premium template that she updated with an ominous, shimmering black lake overlaid with streaks of moonlight that illuminated every Gap Lake title. She had badges and awards for Best Bookish Blog, Best R. J. Rosen Readership, and Best Mystery Reader Blog. She participated in blog hops and swaps that kept fans coming and commenting. Her fans were from every corner of the world, and sometimes a publisher would contact her for a review or an interview. She was always thrilled, but the backbone of her blog was R. J. Rosen—and he was a hard fish to catch.

  Fans adored Rosen’s mysteries, but a big part of the mystique was R. J. Rosen himself. He was notoriously skittish, an author who shunned social media in almost all its forms. His profile photos were grainy and mysterious, obvious enough to reveal an actual person but little else. Addie felt a kinship with the reclusive genius: she was happy enough to court her fans and post on her site, but she kept her identity under wraps as much as possible. She listed herself only as blogger Lady A. Her own profile photo was shot from the back, with a swarm of her auburn hair knotted by the wind, and a swath of fog obscuring anything notable in the photo.

  Mysterious—like R. J.

  Even though she posted her fan fiction in the school paper, it appeared under the byline of “Lady A.” For all Hawthorne students knew, the articles were pulled directly from the blog. She liked the secrecy—no matter how thinly veiled.

  The new site had gone live less than two weeks ago, but there was already an arm’s-length ribbon of gushing comments:

  DECLAN4EVA: I love this site so much, I feel like I’m *in* Gap Lake!

  HEARTSNSTARS: If I could ’ship myself with a blog it would be this one.

  HUBYMEGA: I want to live on this page!

  The only things garnering more praise than the site’s layout were R. J. Rosen’s books—I’ve read Gap Lake: Lady of the Lake no less than eleven times and I still scream every time! and Addie’s fan fiction: Are you R. J. Rosen in disguise? Either you’re a great writer or a scary person in real life!


  Since GapLakeLove’s inception, the blog had morphed into the preeminent site for all things Gap Lake—fan fiction, theories, and whatever scraps of information she could gather from R. J. Rosen’s interviews and cryptic tweets. She had been trying for four months to get Rosen on the site, which was why she let out a little yip when she saw an email in her inbox from TheRealRJRosen.

  Dear Addie,

  My publisher turned me on to your fan fiction and your site. I have to say, I’m really impressed and a little jealous! You’re quite the writer, and your idea to make Luxe “responsible” for Crystal’s disappearance? Genius. Something I wish I’d thought of.

  Exhilaration rushed through Addie, her cheeks aching from the press of her smile.

  R. J. Rosen read her work. R. J. Rosen liked her work. A real published author was writing to her…was praising her. Her heart thundered in her chest.

  Addie sat back and forced herself to breathe. The message came from someone calling himself TheRealRJRosen. How hard was it to grab a screen name?

  “Probably Maya,” she said with an annoyed huff.

  But she kept reading.

  As you know I’m currently working on the last book in the Gap Lake series. We’ve been working on some launch ideas to make it really special, and one thing that I would like to do is reach out to some of my biggest fans—those who, like you, have been particularly loyal to me and the crew of Gap Lake. Would you be interested in helping out with some promotional opportunities?

  If the email came from Maya, it would have ended with something like “get a real boyfriend” or “call your amazing best friend.”

  This was a legitimate email.

  R. J. Rosen, the author, was emailing her. He was asking her to be a part of his team. Butterflies went crazy in Addie’s stomach and she started to tear up, swelling with pride.

  Her dream could come true.

  She was being asked to work with one of the hottest authors on the planet.

  Addie’s fingers flew over the keyboard. She wrote, read, and rewrote her response to Rosen four times before hitting Send.

  She grabbed her cell phone.

  “Omigod, omigod, omigod!”

  “You can just call me Maya, Adds. And hello to you too.”