8

                                    

                                          

Stiles

Stiles opened the door to room 213, and he and Scott entered, dropping their bags by the door. Stiles immediately fell onto the bed closest to the window, his back hitting the mattress with a dull thud. Scott followed, collapsing onto the bed next to him with an equally tired groan.
Staring at the cracked ceiling, Stiles couldn't help but say, "Okay, so I have six now."
Scott cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowed. "Six? You have six suspects?"
"Yes," Stiles said, his tone matter of fact. "And trust me, they're all compelling cases."
Scott furrowed his brows deeper, trying to keep up with Stiles's racing thoughts. "And who's the first suspect? Harris?"
"Bingo. Harris." Stiles sat up slightly, leaning on his elbows, feeling the adrenaline rush from his theories. "You said it yourself, remember? Just because someone is gone doesn't mean they're dead. And Harris he was at the center of the Hill Fire and the Kanima murders." He paused for dramatic effect, loving the way the words sounded. "That fits things that happen in groups of three. And you know all about things that happen in groups of three."
Scott stared at him, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "So, if he's alive, that means our chemistry teacher is out there somewhere secretly committing human sacrifices?"
Stiles clenched his jaw, thinking it over. "Yeah... I guess that sounded a lot better in my head."
Scott rolled his eyes and shifted on his bed. "Well, what if it was someone else from school? Remember Matt? We didn't know he was killing people."
Stiles got up, his eyes wide open. "Excuse me? What?" He got to his feet, pacing back and forth in the room like a detective about to solve a case. "Oh yeah, we did!" He paused, and gestured dramatically at Scott. "I thought so since day one, actually."
Scott sat up on his elbows, shaking his head. "Yeah, but you weren't serious."
"I was serious! I was completely serious about him being a psychopathic killer. Really serious. But no one listened to me," Stiles grumbled, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He hated being right about these things. It was always an empty victory.
Scott sighed, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "Okay, who are the other five?"
Stiles rolled his eyes, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Derek's sister, Cora. ​​No one really knows anything about her or what she's been doing for the past six years. She's not my top suspect, but we have to keep our options open."
Scott nodded deeply. "Okay, and the others?"
Stiles leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The other four are my prime suspects. First, there's your boss."
Scott blinked in surprise, sitting up straighter. "Deaton? My boss? I thought he was helping us with this."
"Yeah, well, that doesn't rule him out. First of all, I don't like everything Obi-Wan  he does. It kind of annoys me." He paused, noticing Scott's blank stare. "Jesus, Scott, haven't you watched Star Wars yet?"
Scott groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I swear, if we make it back alive, I'm going to watch the movie."
Stiles shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable." He quickly regained his focus. "Anyway, there's also the fact that Deaton seems to know a lot of what's going on but keeps it to himself most of the time. Until he has to let it out. And .." Stiles froze mid-sentence, a thought hitting him like a bolt of lightning.