Flawed Plan (A Crimson Falls Novella)

by Amabel Daniels

  He reacted fiercely then. A deep rumble of a wicked laugh. “Little punks. They’ll get what they deserve. You just watch. They’ll get what they got coming.”

  I failed to see how. At least in respect to being caught for murder, I didn’t. I was the only hope to inform the world of their crimes, and I was in danger myself. Felt an awful lot like hugging a ticking bomb.

  “Everyone always does,” he muttered.

  His last line threw me. Sure, it was a generalized, rhetorical claim. It was nice to think that everyone could get what they deserved in life. So far, I didn’t have a winning streak of that.

  As much as his words and lazy yet firm attitude distracted me, I let him have his peace and quiet as he ignored me and drank from his bottle. I couldn’t help but wonder at the abundance of vehicular history surrounding me. Being friends with Jackson hadn’t turned me into a car buff. Hardly. I did appreciate the sleek and bold curves of these classic cars, but more than the awe of this workspace, it drove in the fact of plurality.

  Jackson’s Vette wasn’t the only one in Crimson Falls. If anyone knew what his uncle did in this barn, bringing these old Corvettes to life again, they’d assume plenty of them could be on the roads.

  Like the one parked at school.

  Unless I was an expert, I wouldn’t have been able to tell one Corvette apart from another, much less, Jackson’s from another’s.

  Oh my God. Why hadn’t I checked the license plate of the car that spooked Ashlyn and me at school!

  It’d been the same inky dark black paint on its exterior, but that was a foolish assumption. Bill had been parked right next to it. Wouldn’t he have thought it odd if Jackson’s car was parked there when later that day he’d winch it from the water?

  I stared at an empty spot where a car might have been parked recently. A rectangular space measuring up to the exact dimensions of where a missing car could be.

  Only one person would know it’d be there to use.

  I knew it. Deep down, somewhere below where even my instinct ruled, I knew it.

  There was no other explanation. Nathan said Jackson’s body would show up downriver in a few days.

  It wouldn’t.

  It couldn’t.

  Because he was out there somewhere, hiding a classic Vette to scare his killers. He’d already succeeded with Ashlyn. She was beyond freaked that he’d risen from the dead.

  How else would this make sense?

  For revenge, I had to surmise. Jackson was up to a damn good counterattack. Pranking them with eggs and chickens, teasing them that he was back to haunt them. In other circumstances, I’d be grinning right there with him—after I punched him for letting me assume he was dead.

  Dammit.

  I could only blame myself for what I assumed.

  This was a dirty, rotten, golden gem of a trick he was playing on us all, but it wasn’t a game. Not anymore. This pranking business had been out of hand from the get-go.

  This stopped being a game, a pastime to ward off boredom, when death came into play.

  Even if Jackson hadn’t died, I wasn’t convinced this would remain without a body count for long. Not when Tim was riled and ready with a gun.

  “If we ‘see’ him again, I’ll make sure to keep him down and dead this time around.”

  Good God. If Jackson kept up this haunting stuff, letting everyone think he was dead… I knew what Tim would do. He’d shoot him. Kill him for good.

  “Have you—” I spun back to face Jackson’s uncle, ready to demand his whereabouts, but found the man was already gone. Another three-sixty and I couldn’t even see where he’d taken off to. “Hello?”

  Dammit. A vague-speaking drunk would be a hindrance instead of help here.

  I ran for the door. Never mind all the cars I was leaving behind me. I didn’t know how to drive, and most of them still seemed stuck in inoperable states of repair.

  I had to stop Jackson.

  If he continued in this deceptive game, he was liable to end up dead. For real, this time.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I never realized how much I could miss my bike. All those times I’d longed for a car… I’d be a grateful girl and just be happy if I could have my two wheels back. Because running, well, jogging and walking more than running, was getting old. And tiring. Especially from town to Jackson’s farm and back.

  Whichever means of travel, I was bum out of luck for protection. On foot, however, I could at least stick to buildings and trees for cover when cars came by. Grayness had given way to a somber darker blue as the day passed. It wasn’t quite evening yet, but the cloud cover kept the town looking nice and gloomy. Sinister. No, that was my mood.

  I still couldn’t believe Jackson had the nerve to do this. To me! Dammit. Wouldn’t he have known I’d be upset, at the least, that he’d been killed? His parents? He really wanted to trick them into thinking him gone? That was too cruel of a concept for Jackson.

  His parents hadn’t come back to town yet, and I couldn’t guesstimate how long he’d keep this whole back-from-the-dead trick on for, anyway. Or why. All I knew was that I had to stop things before someone got hurt.

  So…where to?

  I strode past the first buildings of Main Street with no clue where I was headed. It was a foreign feeling, to not belong somewhere. No, I hardly ever fit in, but I was expected in the sense of a regimen and be at certain locations. Namely, school and work. Day in and day out. Today was an oddball. One, I’d run away from school. Did Davis call my mom? He had to have. A punch of guilt hit me, fearing Mom had left work in a worried fit and had been looking for me all this afternoon. All the more reason to find Jackson, tell him to stop screwing around with the bullies and let normal life resume. I didn’t want to be causing chaos at school or stressing Mom out.

  This was also an out-of-the-ordinary day because I wasn’t scheduled to enjoy dishwater at the diner tonight. Someone else had the Friday shift. If I could have, I’d work every possible night to save up more money for college and getting out of town. Child labor laws threw a foil in that, though.

  I wasn’t sure where to go, exactly, but I knew who I needed to see.

  Where would Jackson be?

  How could he hide a Vette in a tiny town like ours? Someone had to see the new classic Vette he was driving. Ashlyn sure had, when he’d stalked by her house.

  “Jackson, just knock it off, already,” I mumbled.

  Great, one more reason I could be the weirdo of town. Talking to myself.

  I heaved a sigh and attacked this from another angle. If Jackson was planning to scare Ashlyn, Tim, and Meg, he’d have to know where they were. I could stick near my enemies and catch Jackson in the act. Though…I really didn’t want to be near a gun-toting idiot.

  Dread swirled in my gut and I refrained from whimpering. I really wasn’t one for suspense and intrigue. Too much confrontation, for one. And all this damn walking and running… I was just so tired of it all.

  But what other option did I have? I couldn’t get into my house. I had no way to seek out Jackson. So, a half hour later, I arrived at the Vensel mansion and sat on the curb. The last thing I wanted to do was be near Tim and call a bluff on his warning. His gun convinced me he meant it. Yet, I banked on the hope that he wouldn’t come right out and shoot me in his neighborhood, where plenty of people would see. One car had already driven by and the passenger saw me through the window. Safety in crowds? Something like that? I rested my back against the bark of a towering maple tree and shivered. I should have taken one of Jackson’s sweatshirts from his loft. How long I’d have to wait here for someone to show, I didn’t know, but it wasn’t as though I could summon him with the bat signal.

  No one burst out of the Vensels’ home, so I assumed they either didn’t see me at the curb or Tim was debating the best way to take me out. This maple tree was my first option for a seat, and I didn’t mind the secrecy it allowed with its fat trunk.

  Chills swept through me for longer spaces of time
than randomly. I’d freeze out here before Jackson showed up, if he did. Maybe he decided to be done with faking his death sometime when I was running back into town. When I was on the move, I stayed remotely warmer. Here, I was a Popsicle waiting to happen, especially if the clouds opened up.

  I craned around the tree trunk to eye the house behind me. Curtains didn’t fall back into place, no lights flickered off. Nothing. Were they even home? It was a Friday night, and there was no sports game offered locally, or even in Arbordale. Where else would they be? Plotting more pranks elsewhere? I doubted it. Tim had his sights on revenge. After the chickens in the lockers and the letter he had to have found in my backpack, I’d bet he was more than eager to take me down—a peg or two or for good.

  I gulped. Hunger cramps spread in my stomach. Between my exhaustion from running, not eating a single meal today, and failing to wear even a jacket, I was done for. Why not just walk up to the Vensels’ door, knock, and scream the truth in their faces. You failed! You didn’t kill him! Leave me alone now.

  Only, if I went to the door, would anyone even answer?

  I glanced again at the house. It really didn’t seem like anyone was home. Fine. There was a third to the trio of terrors. I’d walk over to Meg’s house, see if they were there, and if not, head home, even though I didn’t have my key.

  On a groan, I stood. I was not fated to get a break today.

  No key… All right, then I’d wait at the front door for Mom to get home. I was out of options after that.

  As I walked down the street to Meg’s house, I noticed lights shone from her second-floor windows. Bingo. Human presence. I hoped that meant Jackson would be there as well.

  My feet shuffled along the sidewalk, and on a weary thought, I hoped I wouldn’t trip and face plant. I bet that concrete was like ice to the touch. As if on a jinx, I did stumble and I cursed myself. Seven more squares and then I’d be at Meg’s driveway. Yay.

  I straightened up to walk without trudging like a zombie—ha, ha—before I was plowed to the ground. An oompf shot out my lips as I landed, my lungs losing all air. As quickly as I struggled the larger and stronger body off me, I froze. That minty, foresty aftershave was just like—

  I reared back, doing an awkward crabwalk on my butt in the wet, chilly grass I’d landed on, and stared at Jackson. With a hint of a grin on his face, he jumped up and held a hand out to help me up.

  “Jackson?” I said as I clambered to my feet. Forget his hand.

  “I can expl—”

  My fist shut him up. I let my arm drop after the punch, and I flexed my fingers. Wow. Hope that hurt him as much as it did me.

  “Dammit, Renee!” he whisper-yelled, rubbing his jaw.

  I shoved him then. “Dammit, Jackson!” I whisper-yelled back. Pushing was just as painful as punching because my knuckles were on fire. I rubbed my hand and glowered at him.

  He grunted. “I can—”

  This time I pulled him in for a hug and breathed in deep. Jackson. Alive. Hugging me. “I don’t need an explanation.” I think.

  He let me step back so he could look me over. For what, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem like he was checking me out, to, well, check me out. Once he seemed satisfied, even though a frown marred his face, he took my hand to rub on the injured knuckles. Nope. Seemed I was the only weak one in that act. I’d punched him, and he was comforting me.

  “Don’t you think this is enough, already?” I asked around a sigh.

  “That what’s enough?” He paused rubbing my hand and cocked his head like he was listening in to something.

  “Scaring them. Making them think you’re dead.” I crossed my arms. “Ashlyn’s definitely loony.”

  “I’m not just trying to scare them.”

  I raised a brow. What, he wanted them admitted to a mental institution?

  “Let me explain. Like I said.” He guided me further down the sidewalk, away from Meg’s house. We stood around a clump of ornamental bushes, and he gave me his coat. “When I drove home that night, I saw their car parked off the side of the road. It made me suspicious, so when the egg hit and I couldn’t see, I knew it was them. Not like it rains eggs, right?”

  I shook my head and huddled in the body warmth from his coat.

  “I knew not to turn the wipers on, because it makes it even harder to see, but I couldn’t help but crash, especially on that curve. I smacked my head when I hit the water, but I braced myself pretty good going through the trees.”

  “Then you swam out?”

  “Kind of.” He shrugged and rubbed his hands on his arms. I felt kind of bad for taking his coat, but dammit, I’d gone through hell for this boy!

  “I had the window down already, flicking a piece of gum out. Made it easier for me to ease out once I was under. But the current was so high, I couldn’t really swim. I floated along until I grabbed hold of a fallen tree trunk and crawled out way past town.”

  He glanced over the bushes toward Meg’s house. “I was so furious. They could have killed me! Anyone they’d decided to do this to.”

  I nodded. “And the little tricks were for revenge. Nice. But—”

  Jackson stepped closer with a grim set to his lips. “Not revenge. This isn’t like them bullying you. If I hadn’t seen their parked car and been suspicious of something happening, I would have been killed. This is serious. I’m trying to get them caught.”

  “Caught?” What, by making Tim attempt killing him again? I shook my head, surrendering my hold on his coat.

  “On record. If I went to the cops, it’d be my word against theirs, and we both know Mayor Vensel would get them out of it.”

  How true. But he wasn’t privy to the rest of the story. My letter. The fact I was an eye witness. How Tim threatened me and brought a gun to school. All of it.

  He went on. “So I hitchhiked home with some stranger and then took one of the extra cars in the barn. The morning before this all started, I had a bad argument with my uncle. I threatened to stop helping him with the cars if he didn’t seek help for drinking, so I figured he’d explain the missing car as me being a punk to him.”

  So that was why his uncle seemed so beat up and emotional. Not because he knew Jackson was dead, but because his nephew had given him hell. And maybe felt guilty about it.

  “I’ve been keeping the other car in the abandoned garage bay behind the gas station.”

  Oh. Smart move. And it kept him right in town.

  “Then I planned some mischief—”

  “Mischief?” I threw my hands up, ready to choke him. “Mischief!”

  “Yeah, so I could get them worked up. I planned to approach them, pretending to be some kind of ghost or something stupid, and get them to fess up. I have a camcorder propped in a tree in her yard.” He jerked a thumb toward Meg’s place. “I need proof, Renee. That’s all. Then they’ll never pick on anyone ever again.”

  That was all fine and dandy. “But he’s going to kill you. If he sees you again, he’ll shoot you.”

  “Says who?” Jackson smirked.

  “He has a—”

  The roar of a muscle car passed on the street and Jackson pushed me further into the shadows. “Just stay here. I’ve got one last joke on them, and I’m going to get it on tape. It’ll all be over.”

  With that, he darted off into the dark yard we’d been speaking in.

  What?

  I took a few steps after him, but he was already gone.

  Dammit!

  He didn’t let me finish. It didn’t matter what “joke” Jackson intended to bring upon them. Tim was impatient and had a gun on him. He’d shoot and then not even ask questions. With it so near a pitch-black hour of the night, I could even hear his probable defense. “Well, officers, it was dark out, and I thought I heard an intruder breaking into the house. So I shot at whoever it was in self-defense…”

  And Jackson’s handy little camcorder would catch him approaching the Vensel mansion…like…an intruder. I growled as I rushed for the sidewalk.
I wasn’t about to have Jackson killed, again.

  I marched toward Meg’s house and couldn’t have had worse timing. The Vensels were exiting the parked vehicle—Tim from the passenger seat, Ashlyn from the back with Meg—just as I neared.

  “You!” Tim ran down the driveway toward me.

  “Get off my property, you freak!” Meg yelled.

  “I saw you looking at that cop at school,” Tim said, and he pushed past the girls for me. “You still thinking about telling someone, huh?” He pulled the gun from his waistband. Meg gasped and covered her arms.

  Ashlyn surveyed our surroundings. “He could be watching, Tim…”

  “He’s dead!” Tim yelled at her, carelessly holding up the gun to the sky. “He. Is. Dead. We killed him. Remember?” He marched up to her, spittle shooting from his lips as he yelled. “He lost control after we egged his car and he drowned in the river! There is no way he can be watching us anywhere.”

  I glanced around, wondering if Jackson was near enough to realize a camcorder just got the full confession.

  “And this one…” He strode back to me and gripped my hair. The cold circle of the gun barrel dug into my temple as he brought me to my knees. “This one knows it. And she thinks it’s cute to keep on teasing us. Reminding us she knows what we did.”

  A gun. At my head. Please, no.

  Tears stung and burned, blurring my sight of Tim.

  He can’t kill me! I was too young to die. My mom would miss me. She’d want an eye for an eye. Jackson and I had plans. A future away from this stupid town. I didn’t want to die. Not now, not like this. Please, don’t shoot—

  A sob bubbled in my throat and I coughed hard.

  “You threw the egg, not me,” Meg said and set her hands on her hips.

  Tim didn’t let go of me as he turned partly to face her. “Are you kidding me? You were there! You’re just as involved.”