by Kai Juniper
"I can get it myself," Jackson says, hopping up from the table. He already ate everything on his plate. I've never seen him eat that fast.
"Roman, would you like anything?" Brock asks.
"Just more coffee." He dabs his napkin over his mouth. "I generally don't eat much in the mornings."
Ana hurries off to get the coffee as Jackson sits back down at the table, his plate piled with food.
"What did the police say?" I ask Roman. "When they called this morning?"
"I'd rather not disclose that," he says, holding his cup up as Ana fills it with coffee.
"I'm surprised I haven't heard anything," Brock says.
"It doesn't involve you," Roman says. "This was about Jackson."
"Who is dating my niece. When Rumor was called in for questioning yesterday, the police treated her as though she were a suspect. When we left I requested the police inform us of any new developments in the case. They should've at least called my lawyer."
"You know how the police are." Roman sips his coffee. "In the other girl's case it seemed that we were always the last to know when they had new information." He sets his coffee cup down. "Speaking of that, have you heard anything regarding the new evidence?"
Brock shakes his head. "Unfortunately, no. We keep asking for details but they're remaining tight-lipped. I'm starting to think this new evidence doesn't exist and that this is simply Andrea's parents making yet another attempt to turn this into something it isn't."
"Why would they do that?" I ask. "Wouldn't they want it to just go away so they wouldn't have to keep reliving that night?"
"They refuse to accept it was an accident," Brock says. "They feel the need to blame someone."
"Did the cops ask you stuff about Andrea when you were at the police station?" I ask Jackson.
"No, they only asked me about Kristen."
"They don't need to ask him about it," Braden says, coming into the kitchen. "They know he did it."
"Braden!" Brock scolds.
Braden opens the drawer that has his protein bars and takes one out. "Give it up, Dad. You're not getting the part. You're too old."
Brock purses his lips, his whole body stiffening. If he could, I'm pretty sure he'd get up and punch Braden for saying that.
"Braden, please go to your room," Brock says as calmly as possible, although it's clear from his stern tone and tight lips that he's furious.
"Go ahead and tell him," Braden says, walking over to Roman. "Tell him he's not getting the part so he can stop making an ass of himself."
Brock shoots up from his chair. "Braden! To your room! Now!"
Braden laughs. "Taking the side of a killer and letting your niece date him just so you get a movie role? Fucking pathetic." He walks off.
Brock waits until he's gone, then sits back down at the table. "I'm terribly sorry for that. Braden hasn't been himself since the case was reopened."
Roman gets up. "I'm going to head back to the house. I have phone calls to make." He sighs. "We're going to have to delay casting for several more days."
Brock shoves his chair back and hurries to stand up. "Is there any way I can help? I'm happy to assist with the calls. I'll be here all day."
"Thank you, but no. I need to do this myself."
Brock's phone rings and he checks it. "It's the lawyer. I'll call her back. Roman, are you sure you can't stay?"
"The lawyer," he says, pointing at Brock's phone. "I'm curious to see if it's something involving Jackson. Do you mind answering the call while I'm here?"
"Of course not." Brock answers the call. "Yes, Ms. Wietz, how can I help you?"
I stand up, my heart pounding, worried she's calling with more bad news. I don't even want to know.
Jackson stands beside me, his arm around my shoulder, whispering in my ear, "Stop worrying. Maybe it's something good."
I doubt it. Since moving here, it seems all I ever get is bad news.
"I see." Brock nods and looks at me. "Very well. I'll tell her. Thank you for calling."
"What'd she say?" I ask, gripping Jackson's arm, my nerves messing with my stomach, making me feel sick.
"She said that for now, you have nothing to worry about."
"Why? What happened?"
"They told you?" Roman says, folding his arms over his chest. "I didn't think they were ready to go public with that information."
"What information?" Jackson asks.
Roman turns to face his son. “We found out who told the police you were responsible for Kristen's death."
"Who was it?” Jackson asks, his hand tightening around my shoulder.
"Your former principal," he says. "Kristen's father. Steven Edwards."
Chapter Nine
"Steven Edwards is the reason I was locked in jail?" Jackson lets me go. "What the hell? Why the fuck would he accuse me of this? He knows I was friends with Kristen. Why the fuck would he say I killed her?"
"He said you two had been arguing a lot," Roman says. "And that you were tired of Kristen interfering with your new relationship."
"That doesn't mean I killed her!" Jackson yells.
"Son, let's go home. We need to discuss this in private."
"No!" I wrap my arm around Jackson's. "I want to hear this. What else did he say?"
"I'm afraid we can't share that with you," Roman says. "I'm sure it'll all come out later."
"Uncle Brock," I say. "What did Ms. Wietz tell you?"
Brock clears his throat, seeming uncomfortable as he glances at Jackson. "There was mention of some marks on the body."
"Because she was strangled," I say. "But not by Jackson."
Jackson turns to Brock. "Did the lawyer say anything else?"
"The marks on her neck," Brock says. "They weren't caused by someone's hands, but by something else."
Roman looks at Jackson. "The lawyer mentioned it on the phone this morning. I was going to tell you when we got home."
"Yeah?" Jackson's eyes bounce between his dad and Brock. "What is it?"
"The marks were from a man's tie," Roman says.
Jackson lets out a humorless laugh. "It's not mine. I only have three and I don't even know where they are. I stopped wearing them when I stopped going to Twisted Pine and having to dress up for shit."
"Yes, and I told our lawyer that. That you no longer wear ties. I wasn't even sure you owned them anymore."
"I probably don't. I probably threw them all out."
"Maybe you should go look," I say. "Can you get in your house?"
"Not while it's still a crime scene."
"Jackson, let's go," Roman says. "I'll call the lawyer and see if he can meet us at the house."
"This is good, right?" Jackson says. "It's not my tie. They can't charge me. It proves Steven's accusations are false."
"It doesn't prove anything," Roman says. "They could claim you bought the tie. We'll discuss it when we get home."
We walk them to the door.
"Thank you for breakfast," Roman says.
"It's the least I can do," Brock says. "If you need anything else, please let us know."
I hug Jackson. "Text me when you're done with the lawyers."
"I will." He gives me a kiss. "See you soon."
When he leaves, I want to run after him. I'm so afraid the cops will show up and take him away.
Principal Edwards did this. He's the reason Jackson is being accused. Why would he do that? Does he hate Jackson that much? Just because he left Twisted Pine and their precious football team?
"I really hate him," I mutter as we go inside.
"Hate who?" Brock asks.
"Principal Edwards. Why would he accuse Jackson of killing Kristen? He knows Jackson well enough to know he'd never do that."
"When parents are distraught over their child's death, they'll blame whoever they can. They want someone else to experience the pain they're going through. It's no different than Andrea's parents and their obsession in making their daughter's accident into a crime."
<
br /> "But Kristen wasn't his kid. He's only been in her life a few years. And he—" I stop before I tell Brock what I saw after school that day.
"He what?" Brock asks.
"I'm just saying it's not comparable to Andrea. Her parents raised her. She's their child. Principal Edwards didn't raise Kristen. He's just one of many stepdads she's had."
"Rumor." Brock puts his hands on my shoulders. "I've known you for far less time than Steven knew Kristen and if anything were to happen to you, I would want to seek justice. I'd want to find the person that hurt you and lock them away."
"Even if it was your own son?"
Brock steps back, anger filling his face. "What is wrong with you? Why would you say such a thing?"
"Braden almost hurt me when he found out about Jackson and me. If you hadn't walked in, he might have done something."
"He would never hurt you. Braden likes to make threats but that's where it ends. He never follows through."
Does he really believe that or is he just saying that?
"I'm going to my room," I say. "Let me know if you hear anything more about Jackson."
As I walk off, I hear Braden coming down the stairs.
"Are they gone?" he asks.
"They just left," Brock answers. "You're going to be punished for making such a scene."
"You let the fucking enemy into our house!" Braden yells. "The guy killed Kristen! And you invite him over for breakfast?"
"We don't know that Jackson's the one responsible for her death."
"Who else could it be? They found her at his house! And you're letting Rumor date him? You seriously don't see a problem with that?"
Brock lowers his voice. "Telling her not to will make her want to see him even more. It's best to let it be."
"And find her body in the ocean. Is that what you want? For him to kill Rumor next?"
"Enough! I'm not arguing with you! I'll be in my office."
I hear Brock walking away and Braden stomping up the stairs. I go in my room and wait to hear something from Jackson. After an hour, I text him.
You okay?
Still meeting with the lawyers, he texts back.
I fall back on my bed, frustrated and wishing I could do something to help. Wishing I could find out who did this. Braden seems determined to convince everyone it was Jackson, which makes me wonder if he's the one who did it. Maybe to avoid being considered a suspect, Braden's pushing the blame on Jackson.
What was Kristen doing Friday night? She wasn't at the football game. Did she go to any of the parties? If she did, someone would've seen her or talked to her. Maybe they could tell us if she did or said something that would hint at who killed her.
My phone rings. It's a local call but not from someone I know.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Bestie!" a girl squeals.
"Peyton?" I say, since she's the only one who calls me that. She calls other girls at school that too. She's strange.
"Who else would it be?" She laughs. "I'm sooo bored. Let's go out."
"Um, Peyton, you know what happened, right? On Friday night?"
"What? Someone did something stupid at a party? I really don't care. I'm so over those high school parties. From now on, I'm spending my Friday nights on a sailboat, drinking champagne and eating caviar." She sighs. "Older men are so much better, in every way. Wealthy. Sophisticated. Know how to treat a woman."
Do I tell her? I feel weird telling her this. Peyton and I aren't really friends, and I know how much she liked Kristen. She was the only person who didn't say anything bad about her.
"Something happened," I say. "I can't believe nobody told you."
"Told me what?"
"About Kristen." I pause. "She died."
"Died?" Peyton laughs. "Yeah, right. You have a strange sense of humor, but I like it. I think it's cute. So anyway, you want to go shopping? It's on me. I have Daddy's credit card."
"Peyton, listen to me. Kristen is dead. Someone killed her. They found her body on the beach early Saturday morning."
The phone is silent. I check to see if she's still there.
"Peyton, did you hear me?"
"She's not dead." She sniffles. "You're lying. Why would you lie about that? What kind of person makes up something like that? I know I might stretch the truth sometimes but I'd never—"
"I'm not lying. Turn on the TV. It's all over the news. Check the internet. The story is everywhere. Even the national news covered it. I can't believe you didn't hear about it."
"I wasn't here. My parents were out of town this weekend so I went and stayed on the sailboat yesterday and didn't get home until just now." I hear the TV in the background. "Oh my God. You weren't lying. She's really gone."
"I'm so sorry. I know you guys were friends."
"Not besties, but yeah, we were friends. We've known each other since we were kids."
"Really? I thought you grew up in LA."
"In Malibu. Kristen used to live there too."
"Malibu. I think that's where Trystan and Braden's mom lives."
"It's where a lot of rich people live. We had a house on the beach."
"Don't you still live on a beach?"
"No. My mom decided she doesn't like the ocean." Peyton pauses. "I can't believe she's gone. I know everyone at school hated her but it's because they didn't take the time to know her. They didn't know her like I did."
"You didn't really talk to her much at school."
"We grew apart as we got older. And whenever she'd get a boyfriend, she'd ditch her friends for whoever the guy was. I kind of do that too so I can't judge." She sniffles. "I can't believe she's gone. It doesn't even seem real. Who would do that to her? Do they know?"
"No. They have to do an investigation."
"I bet it was Jackson. I know you two are together but I don't care. As your friend, I have to tell you the truth about that guy. He's crazy, Rumor. I'm not just saying that. He really is. He seems like the greatest boyfriend ever at first. Sweet. Loving. Generous. But then he turns on you. He did it to Andrea and now he did it to Kristen."
"Jackson didn't do it," I say, getting angry. "Just because she was found there doesn't mean—"
"She was found there?" Peyton says. "Kristen's body was found at Novak's house?"
"Behind his house. On the beach. But that doesn't mean—"
"He did it! Jackson did this! He killed Kristen!"
"He didn't do it!" I yell. "Anyone could've killed her!"
"And dumped her body behind his house? Seriously, Rumor, I know you're crazy for the guy but you need to wake up. She was found dead behind his house! It had to be Jackson. Who else could it be?"
"Braden," I say.
"Why would Braden do it? He already has the cops breathing down his neck about the Andrea case. You really think he'd kill Kristen, knowing the cops are watching everything he does?"
"They're looking at Jackson too, so if what you're saying is true, Jackson didn't do it." I pause. "What about her stepdad?"
"What about him?"
"Do you think he might've had something to do with this?"
"Like what?"
"Like maybe they got in a fight and he killed her."
"Okay, you're seriously messed up. I'm starting to change my mind about you being my bestie."
"I'm just saying, I heard them fighting at school. More than once."
"Everyone fights with their parents."
"Yeah, but—" I can't tell her. I can't tell anyone. Nobody would believe me. I have no proof. Even Jackson wouldn't believe me when I told him what Kristen was doing with her stepdad. "Forget it. It was just a theory."
"Principal Edwards would never hurt Kristen. He loved her like she was his own daughter."
Actually he loved her more like a girlfriend, or a mistress. But I can't tell Peyton that.
"I'm coming over," she says.
"Wait—what do you mean? Coming here?"
"I can't be home alone. I'm too upset, and when I'm upset I
smoke, and I'm really trying to quit."
"You smoke?"
"I started a long time ago, back when I was still acting. A lot of the actors smoked so I tried it. I was hooked after a week."
"You never smell like smoke."
"Because I quit. But when I'm stressed about something I start up again. C'mon, Rumor, I can't be alone right now."
"Why don't you go to Alyssa's house? You guys are best friends."
"Alyssa's such a downer. She's not who you want to be around when you just found out your friend died. I just need to take a quick shower. I'll be there in an hour. Maybe less."
"Peyton, you can't. I'm serious. There's too much going on right now. Lawyers keep coming over. Braden and Brock are fighting. And the cops might show up again."
"Why would the cops be there? For Braden?"
"Or me," I mutter.
"Why you?"
"I don't want to get into it," I say, knowing she'll spread anything I tell her around school. "Peyton, I need to go."
"Maybe I could stop by later."
"It's not a good time. I'll just see you at school on Monday." I end the call, hoping she doesn't show up here. Why is she trying so hard to be my friend? We have nothing in common. And she already has friends. She's friends with all the cheerleaders.
Two hours pass without a word from Jackson. I'm about to text him when I hear him at my door. "Rumor, it's me."
I run to the door and open it.
"Finally." I hug him. "I was getting worried."
"Took longer than I thought it would."
"What happened?"
"Long story." He backs me into my room and shuts the door, then kisses me. The type of kiss that makes me forget everything that's going on and suspends me in the moment. God, I've missed that. I didn't even know that type of kiss existed until I met Jackson.
Moments later, we're in my bed, clothes stripped off, and Jackson inside me.
"Can we just stay here?" I say, breathing hard. "And never leave?"
He smiles, then kisses me as he slides in and out of me in that slow intoxicating way that feels so damn good it makes me come before I wanted to. I was hoping to make it last. Who knows when we'll be able to do this again?
As I lie in Jackson's arms, I realize this is the first time since Friday night that I've felt calm and relaxed.
