Flawed Plan (A Crimson Falls Novella)

by Amabel Daniels

  I wasn’t going to stay here, cornered by her. I wanted nothing to do with her mind games. Heck, I was faster than her. What was she going to do to me in broad daylight, on the school’s steps? She terrified me in plenty of ways, more than she ever could have with her taunting jokes and mean put-downs. But here, now? Oh, I could take her on. I would if I had to. Because nothing was going to stop me from telling Bill what she did—

  She gasped.

  Not a wisp of needing air or show of impatience. Ashlyn sucked in oxygen like she had been zapped. The rosy glow on her perfect complexion waned, her essence seeming to drain from her head. Her eyes no longer hosted barbs of abhorrence toward me. With an increasing tremble of her lower lip, she stared ahead, past the spot where the Crimson Falls PD vehicle had driven away.

  And revealed a classic Vette that had been parked on the other side of it.

  My turn to inhale hard.

  Jackson?

  How?

  I darted my gaze left and right. Even spun around to look behind me. Jackson was here? He…couldn’t…be.

  “What… How…” Ashlyn said and just as quickly shut up on a choked grunt. Her hand raised to her lips as she took shaky steps to the pavement.

  I couldn’t have moved if an earthquake rattled through town. My feet were rooted to the concrete. It was all that centered me. Grounded me. Because nothing made sense anymore, all my observations a Dali-painting whack-job of confusion.

  Jackson drove into the river. His beloved Vette smashed into trees, no, mowed through the tree line, like Bill said. There was no possible way this beautiful old car could be standing here. Ashlyn inched closer to it, almost trancelike with whimpers coming from her throat.

  There was no way.

  Was it a hologram? Hallucination? Dementia? Jesus. Maybe there was something messed up with this cursed town. How else could I be standing before Jackson’s Vette? His immaculate vehicle, free of dented-in spots where he’d hit the trees. No water dripped out of the doors, like it’d been getting a bath all night. Clean, spotless black paint showed no trace of mud. Not even the nick where he’d once dropped his keys on the hood was there anymore.

  The beauty had never looked better.

  “How…” Ashlyn sucked in another breath and jerked back from the car, as though it’d snap up and bite her.

  How? Yeah, for once, I was on the same page as this brat, even as I hid my bewilderment from her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Cars didn’t drive themselves. I knew this. Common sense, right?

  But I also knew that Vette—Jackson’s car—was not here when I biked onto the school’s property some ten minutes ago. If it had gotten here within the time I was inside, its driver had to be here too.

  “Miss Vensel?” a man called from behind me, near the front door to the school.

  Ashlyn startled as she turned to face the speaker. “Principal Davis. Uh…hi…” Then she returned to staring at the car.

  “Please come inside for class, dear.” Footsteps clapped on the cement near my side. “Renee?” He sighed something like a groan. “Harding!”

  I just couldn’t pull my sight from the sleek classic in front of me. How could this car be here?

  “I swear to God this kid can’t hear shit,” he grumbled as he grabbed my shoulder.

  I flinched out of his touch but refrained from the fancy move to whack his hold off me. I’d heard him just fine, dammit. Yes, yes. He was probably out there wondering why two students were gaping at a parked vehicle. So, the bell rang. It could clang and toll all stinking day for all I cared. He thought I was in any frame of mind to go to class?

  I needed answers. First and foremost, how the heck this Vette remedied itself from its destruction and sat here now.

  “Feel like coming to class, Harding? Or do I need to call your mother and explain your insubordination? The bell rang five minutes ago. Even if you can’t hear it, you should know that class starts at eight fifteen—”

  “Come on, Renee. We don’t want to be any later than we already are. Thank you for the reminder, Principal Davis.” Ashlyn beamed a sugary smile at the balding man as she climbed the steps. She reached out to pull my sleeve, guiding me with her, but I reared back.

  I’d had damn too many people groping for me. And the last human—or excuse of one—I wanted within grasp was Ashlyn. I followed her back inside the school because there was no way Davis was going to let me continue to stare at Jackson’s car like it was a mesmerizing apparition. As much as it should have grated my frayed nerves, the brat’s sweet talk and obedience to our principal gave us an easy escape from the man.

  “Where is Jackson?” she whispered-yelled as we hurried through the hallway.

  “You know where he is.”

  She stopped so suddenly, I was five feet ahead of her before I realized her reaction. I glanced back as she ran to me and gripped both my upper arms with her hands. “What did you say?” Shaking, too tightly clenched fingers held me until I shoved at her chest to break free.

  I’d spoken the truth. But did I really want her to know I knew? What would she do to me next? Words were her usual weapon of choice, but between her determination, Tim’s physical aid, and Meg’s cheerleading them on…these three jerks were big trouble from here on out. Bullies upgraded to killers. And now…well, where was Jackson? His car was here when it should be underwater. Did that mean Jackson…wasn’t either? If I thought I was confused before, I was bewildered and lost now.

  “I said do you know where he is?” I asked and resumed the walk back to Miss Bleason’s room.

  Wow. Talk about fudging words on the spot. It worked though because her face relaxed and she broke eye contact as she met me stride for stride. “Well, he’s not here. In class.”

  True. “But his car’s here…” I finished.

  “Oh!” Miss Bleason interrupted as we approached the open door to her classroom. “There you are. Now everyone’s here— Well, almost everyone.” She held her arm out to welcome us back in. “Feeling better, Renee?”

  In short, I had no clue what I was feeling.

  We took our seats, and I firmly refused to bring any more attention to myself. I sat still, looked forward, and gave my teacher my focus. Like I had any. Concentrating on anything was impossible, but obsessing over Jackson was a mandated requirement of my conscious moments. For the entire day, I couldn’t cease thinking about it, reanalyzing what I knew—what I thought I knew—and how it measured against reality.

  Over and over, I rehashed the facts. Jackson lost control of his car and sank into the river with it. He wasn’t here at school, but his Vette was.

  Nope. Still didn’t make sense, and in the mess of so-called facts I knew, I had a crappy case to inform Bill or anyone of Crimson Falls PD.

  What could I say? I spied on my classmates and learned they wanted to egg my friend. They did, and he crashed and submerged his car. Oh, and even though he’s not in class today, his car resurrected and drove itself to school.

  Who the heck would believe me?

  All I could control was keeping those murderous bullies within my sight. Ashlyn had asked a tricky question earlier. Where was Jackson? I honestly didn’t know now. Even though I couldn’t see him, or understand anything about what was happening, I did know those three students were right there in my classes all day.

  Friends close and enemies closer? Damn right.

  At the end of the day, when class was dismissed, I exited the school at the same time as them and saw, complete with gasping chokes, that the Vette was no longer parked out front.

  “Where’d it go?” Meg asked Ashlyn as everyone trailed out of the school.

  “I have no idea,” Ashlyn answered.

  “Are you sure it was here?” Tim said with a weak chuckle, “It’s not like you know makes and models of anything. It was probably just a different antique car.”

  Whose? Crimson Falls wasn’t a hotbed of unique vehicles. I couldn’t think of a single person who’d possess a
similar antique.

  Ashlyn shoved at him as they headed toward the main parking lot. “I saw it, Tim.”

  Uh huh. I did, too. There was no time to stand at the front circular pavement, though, because dirty dishes and nasty sink water awaited me at the diner. I didn’t have any more confidence to go to the police and tell them what had happened on River Road, and I lacked all knowledge of how to explain the Vette’s movements.

  When I stood at my post a few hours later, I refilled the hot, soapy basin and reviewed what I could do next. Gain more information, somehow. If it meant heading out to the Gault Farm tonight, well, okay. I would, just to see if Jackson’s uncle knew anything. Even though it was a good distance by bike, no rain was forecasted. After that, the only other thing I could think to do was watch the Vensel twins and their tagalong Meg.

  Turned out I forgot one other crucial source I could seek out. Because as soon as my boss said I could take my dinner break, and I brought my plate to an empty booth in the mostly empty diner, I spotted two Crimson Falls cops sharing a meal across the restaurant. Eating and conversing as well. Bill was one of them.

  “It wasn’t a drunk driver?” the older one, Nathan, asked. Good old Officer Nathan. He was one of the officers who’d responded to my 911 call when my dad was attacked at home, and the first person in town to start badmouthing my family name. Nathan’s words ignited the wildfire of judgment and criticism that drove my parent right out of town. Officer Nathan, and other old-timing pricks in the police department, contributed to my hesitation to even go to the authorities now. Other than Bill, I doubted I could trust any officer in town.

  After he wiped his lips with his napkin, Nathan smirked. “I told you it wouldn’t be. Not this close to Founder’s Day—”

  I shoveled food into my mouth as I read their conversation.

  Bill rolled his eyes. “Will you cut it out with that curse crap? Jesus.”

  “Come on, what was it? What’d you find out there? I was dealing with some domestic violence over in the poor end of town most of the day. This was the first I heard of a crash on River Road.”

  “That Gault kid.”

  Mashed potatoes stuck in my throat and I swallowed hard.

  No. Please, no. Why beg, though? Because I already saw it with my own eyes. It still ripped a fresh hole in my heart to have an independent confirmation.

  “The boy from the chicken farm?” Nathan asked.

  A sage nod preceded Bill’s answer. “Found tire marks leading into the river. He ran that Vette into the water.”

  Nathan winced.

  “It wasn’t down that deep. Driver’s side was damn near buried into the mud, but I had it winched out. He must have lost control driving in the rain. Busted into all those trees before the bank. Had to have cracked his head good.”

  “Dead?”

  He was. There was no way to soften the sucker-punch of hearing—okay, reading—that word no matter how much I knew this. I couldn’t blink and refused my eyes a respite from staring at their lips.

  “He was missing at school today. I don’t see how he would have survived.” Bill shook his head, knocking dark waves of hair across his forehead. “Even if he was conscious and could get out, he would have froze in that water. There was blood everywhere, on the dash, the steering wheel. I bet a lot of it washed off, but the residue was still detected. The windshield was cracked out. I drove along the river for a couple hours searching, but I’m guessing his body will show up downriver…”

  “In a few days.” Nathan shrugged. “We got a lotta rain last night. That river was running high.”

  I glared at that old cop shrugging his shoulders. Like, oh, it was nothing. Some poor guy’s kid went underwater. Shrug. Lots of rain. Shrug. It’ll show up whenever. Shrug.

  Jackson’s body just tossing and turning in the water, his strong body weakened to a bit of river debris to be knocked into trees and rocks over the rapids… I curled into myself at the image and regretted even the scant bites of dinner I’d forced myself to eat.

  That Gault kid. Shrug. What a jerk.

  “So, that’s what my afternoon was like. Just now wrapped it up with towing that car away. What a mangled heap of a beaut,” Bill said.

  I frowned at Bill as I tried to reconcile his words with the memory of seeing the immaculately clean and mint-condition Vette at school this morning.

  “I called his parents and left a message. They’re out of town and won’t be back until Saturday, and the kid’s uncle was passed out drunk at the farmhouse. Can’t do much else until I notify the family proper.”

  Nathan bobbed his head. “True.” He pointed at the radio receiver on Bill’s shoulder. “Not mine. Whatever it is. Not my turn. Definitely not my turn to take a call if it’s those knuckleheads arguing over in the slummy end again.”

  I sipped my water to wet my dry lips as Bill sighed and then replied to the dispatcher who summoned him on his radio.

  “Oh, come on,” the young officer groused as the two men listened to dispatch. “I’m not dealing with that brat again.”

  “The Vensel girl?” Nathan grinned. “You can get uglier calls than that.”

  Bill’s grimace flattened. “Kinda young for you, isn’t she?”

  Nathan dismissed him with a wave. “She’s just so sweet and—”

  “Not tonight. This is the third time she’s called in today that someone’s spying on her.”

  Nathan’s grin brightened. “A Peeping Tom? Can’t blame a man for—”

  “God. You’re sick. Listen to yourself. She’s a kid!” Bill threw his napkin to his plate. “God damn are you one sick—”

  “Oh, settle down. I’m just teasing. So, she’s worried someone’s stalking her?”

  “I said spying. But yeah, her word was stalking. Freaked out about some weirdo driving down her street too.” He shoved his chair back to stand. “No one’s out there. I’ve done six perimeter checks of that mansion already when I need to be wrapping up this Gault case. She’s probably another example of someone falling for this Founder’s Day hocus-pocus nonsense. I’ll catch you later.”

  I watched Bill exit the diner and let his news find a place in my brain. Maybe the words would absorb later.

  Jackson was declared dead. It was official. Right? A cop stating it kind of put a finality to the matter. Replaying the fact didn’t crunch me over in a sob, though, because, well, how final could it be? I knew I saw Jackson sink in the river just as much as I knew classic Corvettes didn’t drive themselves—and they sure didn’t have auto-collision repair by magic. I was so confused, I didn’t know what to think anymore.

  And Ashlyn had someone stalking her? Funny, because it would be more conceivable for that equation to be flipped. She was more the one to follow and terrorize another.

  Who the heck would be following her?

  Stacking my empty plates together, I checked the time on the clock near the cashier’s podium. Ten more minutes until I was off for the night, and perfect timing for me to stick to my earlier mantra.

  Friends close and enemies closer.

  All this time I’d been washing dishes, I hadn’t been checking up on the twins and Meg.

  It was the first thing on my list to do, and maybe then I might be near some answers.

  CHAPTER SIX

  If anyone were to stop and ask me why I was biking down Maple Street in dishwater-smelly clothes at ten-fifteen on a Thursday night, I’d explain I was simply heading home from work. It wasn’t a complete lie. Maybe an extra little loop around a couple of streets I had no business belonging on, but I didn’t plan to linger.

  A quick ride by. To see…what? I wasn’t sure, but I disliked this constant wondering and worrying dread that fogged my brain with questions. Maybe I’d spot this supposed weirdo driving down the street, see what could possibly make Ashlyn call the already busy police with reports of someone watching her.

  Add me to the list then, Ashlyn. Because I intended to keep my eyes plenty open too.

&nb
sp; There was no need for me to peel my eyelids back for extra diligence of my surroundings, though, because Bill was right. No one was about. Just me and my trusty old bike, wheels spinning down the empty road and then turning to ride up onto the sidewalk.

  Until I wasn’t.

  Because a shadow shot in front of me so fast I braked too hard and toppled sideways off my seat.

  “What are you doing here?” Tim scowled at me, looming over me as I still scrambled to sit on the lawn I’d landed on. He gripped the middle of my handlebars, almost caging me in with my own ride.

  “Jesus. What the heck are you doing, jumping in front of a moving bike?” I spat back as I rose.

  He shoved the bike down to the sidewalk and pressed closer as I gained my feet on the ground again.

  “Tim? Who is—” Ashlyn called out and approached. She wore a robe and clutched it around her pajamas, a cordless phone in her free hand. “Oh.” She spotted me, and her brows drew closer with a sneer I’d expect from her. “Oh.”

  “What are you doing here?” Tim said again.

  Here, exactly? I sure hadn’t planned to get intercepted on my bike and literally drop onto their front yard. Snooping, yes, yes. I was curious. Sidewalks were still public property the last time I checked.

  I ignored him and picked up my bike. “What does it look like?” I swung my leg over the frame and smirked. “I was riding my bike home. Until some idiot jumped in front of me.”

  “Why would you be out here on our block? By our house?” he asked.

  “Why not?” I huffed and set my hands on the grips. “I can ride my damn bike anywhere I want.”

  “Was that all you were doing?” Ashlyn asked.

  “No. I was juggling elephants and singing German ballads as well.” I would have rolled my eyes if I wasn’t so intimidated by Tim’s angry scowl and too-close stance at my side. He could back it up already.

  “It was probably her,” he said. Eyeing my bike, he slowly nodded. “I saw this piece of crap at school this morning.” He leaned forward and swiped a finger along the mud encrusted on the main frame. “You were out there, weren’t you? On River Road last night.”