Flawed Plan (A Crimson Falls Novella)

by Amabel Daniels

  Jackson.

  Gone.

  Tears burned in my eyes as I kicked the pedal to spin.

  He was gone.

  But I’d be damned if he was forgotten. Or if I didn’t set the path for due justice for the Vensel twins and Meg Renard. If it was all I could do to set anything right, I wouldn’t waste another single second.

  The path to my high school and Crimson Falls’ police station wasn’t complex. Falls High was a perfect right angle away from the cops’ place. Yet, for the first time in all of my years of school, the law enforcement facility was my destination, and I didn’t have a care in the world about the consequences of skipping class.

  As soon as I turned my bike around the corner, I did a double-take at the front steps of High. The stony façade didn’t startle me, but the vehicle parked at the door sure surprised me. Crimson Falls PD. The white cruiser couldn’t be missed with its parallel navy strips of paint. Those emergency light domes on the roof spelled business too. No, they weren’t flashing for any code, but the mere presence of a cop at school…

  Was I missing it? Did they already know about Jackson somehow, and were here to arrest Ashlyn and the others? I couldn’t miss it. I wouldn’t. Energy bounded from some reserve, and I pumped my legs so fast, I nearly crashed into the fat oak tree next to the bike stand.

  Seemed I had six fingers on each hand again, because I couldn’t calm down enough to slip my bike lock chain together. Repeatedly glancing up at the front door of the school’s entrance wasn’t helping me, either. Finally. There. A distinct click I felt in my palm. I let the linked lock fall to the worn bike frame and ran inside.

  Ashlyn, Tim, and Meg would all be in my homeroom. Miss Bleason’s room. It screamed of coming back to square one. I hot-footed to the classroom where those brats had hatched their evil plan, that idiotic prank, and it would be the same location where they’d get caught for it too. My hands slapped at the window on the door, and it flung open. Bit too much force, maybe.

  I stepped in and frowned at the crowd. If it could even be called that.

  Oh, there was a cop, all right. But he wasn’t speaking to Ashlyn and her followers. The trio of terrors sat in their seats along the left side of the room. And Bill Sommers, the most recent recruit to the Crimson Falls Police Department, stood up at the front. One polished black shoe rested on a chair adjacent to Miss Bleason’s desk, and his elbow rested on his raised knee while he smiled and chatted with my teacher.

  This was it?

  Bill Sommers and Miss Bleason? Flirting? That was why the school had the presence of the police?

  It wasn’t hard to believe the pair. The rookie cop was a new addition to town, same as the fresh-out-of-college math instructor. Two outsider young twenty-somethings hitting it off in a confining small town like ours? Made perfect sense.

  My backpack fell down to the floor, pulling my hand low with it.

  He wasn’t even here to get them?

  I shot my stare at the three bullies. They all looked worse for wear. Wide-eyed and downturned grim scowls. Like they’d been awake all night. But not one of them watched Officer Bill in the room.

  They didn’t seem intimidated. I intended to make sure they would be. But how? Tug on Bill’s sleeve and ask to speak to him? In front of everyone? More importantly, in front of Ashlyn? Everyone would notice and automatically wonder what my business was. No one’s business was their own in this place.

  I licked my lips, thinking it through as I paused in the front of the room. Sure. I’d just tell him. He’d listen. Since he wasn’t a Crimson Falls born-and-raised, he’d give me an ounce of patience and respect. He hadn’t grown up here to be exposed to the prejudice. I could count on Bill to see me as a citizen, a quiet teenager who kept to herself, not a poor girl from a worthless family, a kid who can’t hear. Most of all, I had faith he’d let me explain everything I saw and knew.

  When I’d resolved to tell the authorities last night, my usual apprehension of the Crimson Falls officers must have been muted by the adrenaline and shock of Jackson’s… Of Jackson’s… Jesus. Would I ever be able to think the words? Jackson’s death. Dead. He’s dead.

  Seeing Bill here, relief and hope eased into my mind a bit. Of all the discriminating and old-fashioned cops in our town, Officer Sommers was the outcast. He didn’t turn the other way when a well-off citizen paid a “courtesy” to cover up a misdemeanor. Bill wasn’t here, years ago, when my dad had tried to continue an affair with one of the wealthy matriarchs of town—when I’d had to call 911 because the jilted husband had come to our home, intent on strangling my father. And when Ashlyn and Meg tried to blame me for spray-painting graffiti last summer, he’d taken my side. His partner immediately agreed with the two girls, but Bill stood by my word. Ever since that incident, he was one of the few townsfolk who’d actually smile and nod hello to me in passing.

  I’d start with how I’d eavesdropped—well, eaves-read? How else could I describe spying on others’ moving mouths? I’d tell him. I’d watched those three students plot a prank, and then I followed out there to witness the crime. He’d believe me because he’d have no reason not to.

  Or, maybe…he wouldn’t. I was an eye witness, but that would still set it up with my word against Ashlyn’s—she was always the boss of those three. In this town, I knew my word would already be doubted, of less value than the mayor’s daughter’s.

  Damn.

  I had no proof. Only Jackson’s absence—I let my gaze drift to his empty seat—would be an indication something could ring true of my story. Mr. and Mrs. Gault were out of town for the week, too, tending to a funeral for a cousin down in Florida. Only Jackson’s seemingly irresponsible uncle would be home on the farm, and that drunk would probably not even notice his nephew’s comings and goings.

  “Renee?”

  I flinched at my name being called. Softly, at least. Miss Bleason hadn’t adapted to using that tired, exasperated tone so many townsfolk did when they assumed I couldn’t hear them. Like it was an extra bother to even communicate with me because they assumed I wouldn’t receive the message.

  “Are you staying or leaving?” she asked.

  Huh? Where would I be going? Other than the police station, if I couldn’t summon the courage to simply speak to Bill here. Which was still the most logical thing to do—

  Oh. Right. She was smiling. A joke. She’d made a joke. Staying or leaving. Duh, because I was still standing up here like a moron. No wonder she seemed confused and amused by me.

  Oh. Har-har-har. That Renee girl. She can’t hear, and she just stands at the door like a weirdo.

  I nodded and took my seat. As soon as he was finished, I’d ask if I could talk to him in the hallway. But in waiting for a moment when I could speak to him away from the three bullies, I couldn’t stop the gears from cranking in my head.

  Would my brain ever catch up to speed? All these questions and doubts. Worries and shocks that kept flooding and drowning my thoughts. I needed to tell someone. Mom. Bill. Any officer. Mr. and Mrs. Gault needed to know. Ashlyn had to pay for her crime… Jackson’s death wasn’t news I wanted to keep to myself, couldn’t.

  As I sank into the swirl of anxiety and confusion again, I zoned out to stare ahead. Habits were hard to kick, though, because Miss Bleason’s lips moved, and my attention followed suit, listening, reading her words as she chatted with Bill…

  “I don’t think I’ve heard that story yet,” she said.

  Bill rolled his eyes. “Really? Stupidest one yet. Something about brothers dumping bodies in the river. Started the whole curse of the town. I guess every other year or so, someone reports something floating in the river.”

  River? What was floating in the river? My questions screeched silent in my head as I paid attention.

  “Ah,” Miss Bleason replied.

  “Seems someone ran into trouble on a bend on River Road last night,” Bill said with a shrug.

  Oh my God! Maybe I wasn’t the only eye witness! I shot a glim
pse to Ashlyn, but I realized they were too far away to hear our teacher’s low-toned chat with the cop.

  “Or they ran into trees, that’s for sure, at least.” Bill set his foot on the floor and adjusted his button-down uniform shirt. “Mowed into a dozen trees. Tire marks into the bank, too. I’d guess it was just a drunk or someone taking that curve too fast in that rain we got.” Another shrug. “Or maybe it was some local yokel who backed up to dump something in the water to keep these curse stories alive. Just got the call as I was coming here to bring you that coffee. I’ll be heading out there in a moment.”

  Miss Bleason shook her head. “Well, I hope it’s nothing horrible—” Her eyes widened and her alarmed gaze locked on mine. “Renee!”

  Blinking, I looked anywhere but at her. Did she notice me staring at her mouth? Not exactly an awesome way to be caught red-handed.

  “Are you… Renee…” She left her desk and came to crouch in front of mine. “Renee? Are you okay? You’re so pale.”

  Really? Actually, that seemed about right. My empty stomach lurched as my mind twisted and froze on images of what Jackson and the Vette could look like underwater. If he’d suffered when he died. If he was afraid. How the heck else could my composure look when I recalled my friend’s murder?

  “Renee?” Miss Bleason took my hand. She must have worried how cold I was because she brought her other hand up as well and rubbed mine between hers.

  “I…” Swallowing was tricky here. Gag reflex and all. I couldn’t keep it in. Or down. The thoughts. The fear. My bile. “I don’t feel so good.”

  “Maybe you should lie down?”

  Send me home? No. I needed to go to the cops. I looked up to see Bill checking his watch. “No.” I had to speak to Bill, not the school nurse. “I just need…some fresh air.” That’d work. I could sneak outside and intercept Bill once he left.

  Miss Bleason held my hand as I stood, nodding and then guiding me by the elbow. “Well, the bell hasn’t rung out. But are you sure? I can have someone escort you to Nurse Josie—”

  “No. Please, no.” I grimaced, hoping it’d look like a smile. “Uh, my breakfast just isn’t agreeing with me.” I shrugged. “Bad eggs.”

  Eggs?

  Eggs.

  I said eggs?

  My eyes widened, and I tripped over my backpack.

  I said eggs!

  Chair legs scraped against the tiled floor as someone pushed their seat out. To the left. I bent to grab my backpack and glanced at Ashlyn from the corner of my eye.

  Oh, yeah. She was watching me. Staring at me.

  Being at the center of attention wasn’t my favorite place to claim. Miss Bleason calling me out like this ensured everyone was watching me in my pale-faced, tripping stumble to exit the room.

  Ashlyn, though? Her squinty-eyed stare hinted at a subliminal interest.

  Eggs. I had to mention eggs?

  Yes, it was a common breakfast item. An easy one that could potentially go bad and disturb the intestines. But the very last thing I needed was to draw attention to the missile that ultimately killed Jackson.

  “I’ll just…take a few minutes outside…” I mumbled the words as I fled the room, clutching my bag to my stomach like it could be a life preserver. Students mingled in the hallway, some collecting material from their lockers. I weaved through the mass and slammed the lobby doors open.

  There. Bill’s cruiser was still right there, parked and ready to take him to that curve on River Road where Jackson careened into the water. Maybe I could ride with him. God. Go back out there? To the very spot in daylight? Sweat tickled at the small of my back and I twisted the canvas of my bag between my fingers. Well, yes. If I had to right now. I’d be able to point out precisely where Ashlyn and Meg had watched Tim lob an egg into Jackson’s windshield. I’d get out and show where I’d witnessed Jackson lose control of the car, the position I’d dropped my bike when I’d arrived too late.

  If only I’d just taken prank talk more seriously. My fingers trembled as I massaged my temples. Egging. How could I have known it could become so fatal? Was this all my fault? I could have gone straight to the police after school. Though, if I’d done that, and got any officer other than Bill, they would have dismissed me rattling on in the vein of the Founder’s Day curse crap.

  Okay, then I should have tried harder. I should’ve just left work to tell Jackson while he was at the gas station. I should have left a note for him. I was a dishwasher, not a neurosurgeon. The diner could have spared me.

  “What is taking so long?” I turned to look at the doors. How much more could Bill yak with Miss Bleason? The bell was about to ring. And he had his own job to do. Like getting out here, letting me run into him and tell him all about where—

  “So where’s your buddy?”

  My hand balled into a fist by instinct as someone grabbed my shoulder and spun me.

  Ashlyn sneered at me, her magenta fingernails still clutching my sweatshirt.

  I raised my arm and slammed it down in a self-defense move Mom taught me freshmen year. Of course, she’d taught me the basics as some kind of what-to-do-when-a-pervert-touches-you lesson. Not deflecting a psycho classmate. The end result would always be the same unless I’d run into a Judo expert. Ashlyn’s arm was flung backward, and her brows shot up.

  Surprise was chased away quickly, though, because she reclaimed that lost step and glowered at me again. “I said—”

  “Where’s my buddy,” I spat back through clenched teeth. My molars ground together as harshly as my knuckles kept my fist at the ready. “I heard you.”

  “Well?” She put one hand on her hip and then dropped it. “Where is he?”

  I clenched my teeth harder. Like she needed a reminder?

  At the bottom of the river!

  Drowned because of her idea to prank him.

  “Where is he?” she repeated. Only she didn’t demand it this time. Hesitation to ask it seemed to cloud her usually bold and cocksure haughtiness. The determined blaze in her eyes faded, showing a cautious edge.

  “How would I know?”

  She grimaced. “Because you guys are such great pals.” Then she smirked. “Like everyone doesn’t know you’re infatuated with him. You follow him along like a puppy in heat.”

  “Ladies?”

  We turned to Bill as he approached from the front door.

  “Is there a problem, Renee?” he asked. His gaze dropped, almost pointedly, to my fist at my side.

  “Not at all, Officer.” Ashlyn patted my shoulder. Of course, she’d talk over me despite the fact he’d questioned me. Her fingers remained, clutching me on the last pat, the lines of her claws digging into me through my thin clothes. She upped the wattage in her smile for Bill as I shrugged her off. “Just checking on Renee here, to see if she’d like to go to the nurse after all.”

  Bill studied her a moment and then focused on me. I refused to let my face twitch even a minuscule muscle. Not now. Yet, I was sure he could have sensed the lie.

  No problem at all? If he could look me in my eyes, he’d see my soul screaming for help, shooting a flare for rescue.

  Oh, I had more than a problem. I had a murderer pretending to “check on me.” An evil, killing sort of classmate who may or may not suspect I knew something about her so-called prank that ended Jackson’s life.

  Was there a problem?

  I had a real issue with him taking his sweet time to get here. How was I supposed to talk to him now? With Ashlyn right there? I wasn’t so socially awkward that I’d verbally vomit, “They egged Jackson’s car and he’s dead in the river!” in one breath. Neither was I so ridiculously optimistic that Ashlyn wouldn’t notice I had a pressing urge to speak with the police. The fact she immediately sought me out after I left the room was frightening enough.

  I just had to say egg.

  Ashlyn never seemed in a rush to torment me. Comfy in her status as the perfect rich kid, she probably assumed she could pick on me like a lazy pastime. A hobby when the mo
od struck. Her nearly chasing me outside now, clearly in the mood to intimidate me with her nostrils still flaring as she hid a sneer behind her forced smile, with her uncharacteristic physical contact to corner me…

  There hadn’t been an occasion in all of my life where I welcomed Ashlyn’s company, but before last night, I’d never feared her. Never in the life-or-death way. Never so much that I made sure to maintain space between her grabby hands. With that twitchy crinkle of her eye and extra-tense way she fidgeted, never keeping her hands still. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breaths not outwardly appearing rushed or frantic as she kept on smiling.

  Maybe she’s high. On something to dull the craziness of last night.

  In other words, even more dangerous.

  I could hope that after I told Bill what happened that the police would keep me safe from Ashlyn until they investigated that matter and arrested her. But that held on to the slim faith that Bill would even believe my word.

  “Actually, I needed—”

  Static came across his radio and he repositioned to listen in, holding up a finger for me to wait. A scratchy voice reported a potential armed burglary near the library. He quirked a brow at this, and I widened my eyes, trying to glare a scream at him to not leave. There wasn’t a chance of an armed robber here at school, but…I still needed his help! As he backpedaled down the stairs, he maintained eye contact and frowned, still half-listening to his radio. “I’ve got to go handle this, girls. You best get back to class then, and stay out of trouble, okay?”

  “Absolutely, and have a good day, Officer. Thank you for keeping our streets safe,” Ashlyn added.

  Safe? Safe? She was the opposite of safe. The sickening irony. She was a psychopath.

  I stepped toward his retreating figure. “But—”

  Ashlyn yanked on my sleeve to stop me from going to him. I jerked my arm out of her grip and watched as Bill skipped-ran down the steps. Once more, he glanced back at us before he rounded the cruiser and opened the driver’s door. I took the time to step farther away from Ashlyn, primed to run after Bill as soon as he drove off.