by T. A. Kunz
He presents the pink and black rope bracelet. I hold out my hand and he places it in my palm. I thought I’d lost it to the fire. There’s a slight char on one side, but it’s still intact.
My eyes begin to collect water again as a surprised gasp leaves me. “Thank you, Harrison. How did you know this was mine?” I can’t slip it on my wrist fast enough.
“I saw you add it,” he confesses. “I was going to say hi that day, but you looked like you were having a private moment.”
“I honestly can’t thank you enough. This means so much to me, seriously.”
“It seemed like it.”
I lean closer to him, and then in one swift motion, I press my lips firmly to his. Our mouths mingle with one another in a sweet embrace, and I’m surprised how soft and supple his lips are. He deepens the kiss as his hand moves to rest at the back of my neck and pulls me even closer. The eagerness of his kiss proves how long he’s been wanting to do this. I attempt to match his fervor while following along with his every move. I pull back slightly, releasing the lip lock, and our eyes meet. Breaths release.
“That’s exactly how I imagined it would feel,” he says with a grin.
I answer his grin with one of my own. “Is that so?”
He nods. “And it was well worth the wait.”
An even larger and more foolish smile spreads across my face as the blush settles on my cheeks. “Glad to hear it,” I say, shifting back into my seat.
His phone chimes and he removes it from his pocket. Mine goes off as well. I find missed calls and a voicemail from Donovan as well as a group text from Sophia. There’s a number I don’t have saved in my phone included in the message.
“Hey, did you get this message from Sophia?” he asks.
“Yeah, just got it, oddly enough. Surprising too, considering our last interaction wasn’t all that friendly,” I reply. “I’m ignoring it though.”
I’m about to click on the voicemail from Donovan when Harrison pulls my attention back to him. “She included Trent on it.”
“What the hell?”
That must be the number I don’t have.
“Yeah, she’s apparently continuing the Homecoming dance at her house. It seems like everyone’s invited,” he says while reading over the text.
“She’s ridiculous. I bet she invited him to mess with me,” I seethe. “She’s the absolute worst.”
I return my eyes to my cell and hit the voicemail from Donovan. It’s quick. A straight-to-the-point apology for not being there when I needed him is followed up by his promise to not do anything stupid at the station. As I clear out the messages and missed calls, three texts from Donovan show up. They’re timestamped thirty minutes ago.
Marcus and I were just attacked with a knife by that person in the fox mask.
We’re fine now, but they stole my bike.
The deputies said they’re on their way. I hope you’re okay!
“Holy crap, Donovan was attacked,” I say, my heart lodged in my throat.
“What?” Harrison takes his eyes away from his phone. “When?”
“A little while ago.”
“Is he okay?”
I nod. “I think so. He was able to text me, so I’m assuming yeah.”
He goes quiet for a moment. “Did he get a good look at them?”
“I don’t know, he didn’t say,” I reply, dropping my phone to my lap as my head collapses back against the headrest.
“That’s absolutely crazy.”
Could Trent be the person in the fox mask? But then how could he have been under the bleachers and in the locker room at the same time last night?
“Where’s Donovan right now? Do you need to go see him?” Harrison’s voice filters through my thoughts.
“Yeah, I probably should,” I sigh.
He begins to say something and then his phone chimes. His eyes scrutinize the screen. “That asshole Trent just messaged me and asked if I was going to Sophia’s. He’s got some damn nerve, that’s for sure,” he fumes.
“You’re kidding me, right? Why the hell would he show his face somewhere he knows he’ll get ratted out? Everyone knows he was the one behind what happened tonight.”
“I’m telling him to piss off. We should be focusing on Donovan anyway.”
“Actually, I think I’m going to go see him alone, if you don’t mind.”
“What?” His head snaps to face me. “I’m not sure it’s such a great idea for you to just be driving around town alone after all that’s happened.”
“I appreciate the whole chivalrous white knight routine, Harrison, but I think it’d be best if I went to meet Donovan on my own. You should go to Sophia’s just in case Trent does actually show up.”
He lets out a groan of frustration. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind? I honestly don’t feel like this is the best plan.”
“I’m sure. When I get to the café, I’ll let the deputies know that Trent might be at Sophia’s. Then they can deal with it once they get there. You could stall Trent in the meantime.”
“I guess I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow. I shake my head. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to see Donovan?”
I nod. “Yeah, go to the party. I’ll let you know when I reach the café.”
“All right, if that’s really what you want to do.”
“It is.”
I lean over and plant another kiss on his lips. It’s softer. More delicate.
The phone in my hand vibrates, interrupting our lip lock. I glance down and see Donovan’s calling. I slump back against the seat.
“Hold that thought,” I say before answering.
Donavan begins speaking before I have a chance to say hello. “Drea, you okay?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
“The deputies just got here so I can’t talk long, but I had to keep trying to get a hold of you,” he says.
“I’m doing all right, I guess. Been better obviously, but how about you? How’s Marcus?”
“Same,” he replies quickly.
I can tell his attention is being pulled elsewhere. “I’m actually on my way over to see you,” I say. “Harrison is going to some kind of after-party at Sophia’s. Trent might be there and Harrison is going to scout it out.”
“Wait, Trent’s going to be there?” he asks, sounding like his full attention is back on our conversation.
“Maybe.”
“Hey, don’t worry about coming. We’re good, especially since the officers are here. You should go see if Trent’s at Sophia’s and then give me a heads up so I can let the deputies know and we can get him. You could both distract him at the party.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, my stomach in knots.
“Yeah, but please keep me updated on everything, okay?”
“Fine, but only if you’re positive that this is the right thing to do.”
“I am,” he says. He pauses for a moment and I hear Deputy Owens’s voice in the background. “And if you could,” Donovan adds, “give Trent a swift kick to the nuts for me.”
“Most certainly.”
“Hey, be careful,” he says softly.
“You too.”
As the call ends, my eyes pan over to Harrison. He seems to have heard the entire conversation, though he tries to play it off like he didn’t.
“So, what did he say?”
“It seems we have a party to get to.”
He smirks. “All right, then.” His eyes linger on me for a moment before he looks away.
Let’s just hope this isn’t one giant mistake.
Donovan
I watch as Deputy Owens holds Marcus in a lengthy hug. Clearly he isn’t bothered by his fellow deputy seeing this public display of affection. I’m struck with a shred of joy at the visual. It’s nice to see something like this during such a dark time. It gives me hope.
Deputy Owens steps away from Marcus and strolls over to where I’m
sitting at a table in the center of the café. He drags out one of the four chairs and spins it around before straddling it and sitting down. His worried eyes connect with mine.
“What happened here tonight?” His voice is full of concern.
“We were attacked by that same person I tried to tell you about last night.”
He sighs and removes his hat, placing it off to the side on the table. “Did you see their face? Any identifying features?”
“Just the mask. They were dressed in all black. Same as yesterday.”
“Huh. Maybe I should have put more weight into your story last night,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“And they stole my aunt’s bike,” I add.
“Look, we’re going to get the bike back and catch who did this. I promise,” he says, his eyes reflecting his confidence.
I decide to take a chance and reply, “Actually, to make it up to me, you could tell me what happened at the boat dock. I need to know.”
A strained laugh parts his lips. “Well, this is quite the position to be in.” He combs his hand through his light brown hair before leaning forward. “What you’re asking me to do is completely against protocol. It’s putting my job on the line, you realize that, right?”
I nod. “But you also realize that because of your inaction and not believing me, you almost got me and your boyfriend killed tonight,” I snap back in a whisper.
He glances over at Marcus talking to the other deputy and then moves his eyes back to me. He takes a moment to think it over and eventually releases a groan before leaning in close again. “Okay, I’m going to tell you, but I hope you’re prepared to understand that maybe Mr. Easton isn’t as innocent as you think he is.”
My heart cracks. I don’t want to believe Connor is a bad person. Am I going to regret asking about this?
“We found him at the docks with two dead bodies in a pontoon boat tied off there,” the deputy says, chilling my blood. “A male and female, both about your age, both with multiple stab wounds. There was blood all over the interior of the boat.” His eyes lower to the table. “It was pretty horrific.”
My words become caught in my throat. “Who were they?” I’m finally able to whisper.
He seems to search his memory banks. “I believe we identified them as Geoff Winchester and Nancy Loomis. Connor said he received a text from Geoff to meet him and Nancy there.”
“Did you check his phone for that text? Or Geoff’s?”
“Yeah, we verified both. There are still some timeline discrepancies we’re working through, but that’s one of the many reasons we’re holding Mr. Easton in custody.”
“Was there anything else? Any clue, DNA, or anything tying Connor to their deaths?”
“I really shouldn’t be discussing this with you,” he says with a low grumble as he rears back from the table.
“Too late,” I whisper. “You owe me.”
He hesitates and then leans forward. “There was a gas can and matches near their bodies, which doesn’t help Mr. Easton’s case since he has a previous arson charge,” Deputy Owens whispers even quieter.
My heart sinks with every word. I honestly don’t know how to feel right now. In my gut, I know Connor couldn’t have done this. I begin to feel even worse for him, knowing what he witnessed. And was now being charged for it? He must feel utterly lost and dejected.
“Wait,” I say. “You said there was a gas can and matches, right?” He nods. “Well, didn’t someone burn Lori’s memorial tonight?” He nods again. “So that coupled with the possible timeline issues could mean there’s a chance Connor isn’t guilty of what happened at the docks. He was at the station during the dance, right?”
“We’ve taken that into account, but the sheriff is sticking to holding Mr. Easton for the maximum time he can until more evidence is gathered,” he explains. “And how do you know what happened at the dance?” Just as I’m about to answer, he continues, “Never mind. Of course you know what happened.”
“Yeah, high school gossip travels fast,” I reply.
“Speaking of gossip, the sheriff told me you went to the station tonight to try and talk to your friend.”
“He’s more than a friend. But yeah, I did.”
“You had to know you wouldn’t be able to see him, right?”
“I had to try. I had to know why he was in there. To make sure he was okay. I was desperate.”
He lets out another deep sigh. “I get it. And I sympathize with your situation, Donovan. I hope you realize that.”
“And I hope you realize that I honestly believe Connor is innocent,” I curtly reply.
“For your sake, I hope you’re right.”
He has to be innocent.
Drea
“Where is everyone?”
My question causes a flash of confusion—and maybe worry—to cross Harrison’s face as we pull into Sophia’s massive driveway. The only other car there is hers. A pristine, custom, rose-gold BMW.
“Please tell me we aren’t the first ones here,” I groan.
I’m not sure if I can deal with Sophia one-on-one.
“Well, the only way to find out is to head inside,” he replies, and shifts the car into park. He turns to me. “Are you sure you’re cool with this?”
His concern is nice, sweet even. “Yeah, I just have to rip off the Band-Aid. Absorb the pain.”
“All right,” he says with a nod and a tentative smile.
Harrison’s the first to exit the car. I watch him stroll away while I sit there seemingly unable to move. I’ve apparently perfected my ability to waver on decision-making these past few days to an annoying degree. He comes to an abrupt stop and looks back at me before beginning his return to the driver’s side door. One long, deep breath later, I step outside the vehicle and notice a smirk appear on his face.
“You sure you’re good?” His smirk wanes into a more serious expression.
“Yep … Band-Aid, remember?” I reply, and suck in yet another lengthy breath followed by a sharp exhale.
A rush of adrenaline hits my veins and I take the lead up to Sophia’s front door. But it dissipates almost as rapidly as it developed the moment I go to ring the doorbell. I don’t ring it, hesitating again when I’m struck by the fact there isn’t any music coming from inside. Or talking. I see the lights are on through the windows and I test the doorknob. It’s locked. With no competing noise, I knock instead. Three times.
There’s some light scuffling on the other side of the door before the handle jiggles and the door is wrenched open. Sophia stands there, still wearing the frilly neon pink dress I assume she wore to the dance. Traces of streaked eyeliner are left on her cheeks, possibly a result of the fire sprinklers. Her hair is disheveled and looks like it was jostled around by a towel. The Homecoming Queen crown sits atop her head at an angle with the accompanying sash draped haphazardly across her chest.
Definitely not her best look.
Her eyes narrow. “Huh. I guess my invite to you wasn’t as clear of a joke as I thought it’d be,” she says while waving us inside. “The more the merrier, I guess.”
I toss a look at Harrison and he just shrugs before gesturing for me to move in first. I draw in a quick breath and step forward.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Sophia continues as we follow her into the living room. “Deep down, I wanted you to come, but I didn’t actually think you’d show up.”
“Well, here we are,” I reply, blunt as can be.
“Yep, here you are,” she echoes, spinning around to face us before plopping down onto the couch.
“Are more people coming?” asks Harrison when he notices I’m getting too annoyed to talk.
Sophia rolls her eyes. “Nope. I guess not even an official Sophia Gomer party seemed appealing to anyone after what happened tonight. I got a few replies saying people might head over after going home first to change, but I’m not holding my breath.”
I find myself staring at the crown and sash the enti
re time she’s talking. I can’t help but get more irritated with each passing second. “How exactly did you get those? The dance was evacuated before the crowning ceremony happened.”
She giggles to herself before snatching up a glass of pink colored wine from the side table next to her and taking a sip. Her face grows more pensive with each passing moment. “I stole them,” she says. “From Lori.” She takes another swig of her drink. “She won by, like, five votes. Five votes. All write-ins.” Her eyes slim at my surprised expression. “Oh, come on. We both know she would’ve won regardless.”
My tongue firmly travels across my teeth as I hold back the words I’d love to say.
“Did you have something to do with her death?” Harrison throws out there.
It’s one of the many questions I’ve been biting back.
She scoffs. “What? Of course not. How could you even ask that?” Her attention shifts to me. “Speaking of Lori though, what did she have that I didn’t?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, equally confused and frustrated.
“You always liked her more than me. I tried so hard to be there for you, but you always kept me at arm’s length. You always chose Lori. But I was your captain … your friend,” she rambles, taking a sizable swig of the wine this time. “Why? What was it about her that made her so special?”
“It’s complicated.”
I drop my eyes to the floor to avoid her pointed stare. This is the first time anyone has asked point blank about my relationship—or whatever it was—with Lori. It felt like more than just a friendship, but we were both confused. Curious.
“Look, I’m not getting into this with you,” I reply, placing my hands on my hips. “You’ve been drinking and don’t know what you’re saying.”
She releases a sharp exhale before downing the rest of the wine. “She drugged you at my party, you know.” The loud clink of the glass on the side table emphasizes her statement.
“What?”
“It was by complete accident, but you were the lucky winner that night. The drug was meant for Trent,” she explains.
