No Escape (No Justice Book 2)

by Sean Platt

  The coach was dead. He wasn’t coming back. There was no decent reason for Katie to risk meeting with Mal, and confessing her affair with the coach.

  “What happened next?”

  “Then the guy came.”

  “What guy?”

  “The guy who killed him.”

  Mal’s heart raced with the latest twist — a confirmation of her gnawing suspicion that there was much more to this than what they’d seen thus far.

  “What happened?”

  “We were in bed, just lying there like he liked to do, after. And all of a sudden, someone started banging on his door. At first, I thought it was my dad, and I was freaking out, getting dressed as fast as I could. But then the guy started yelling.”

  “What was he yelling?”

  “He said, ‘I know what you did pervert. Open up, or I’m airing this out for all your neighbors.’”

  “Do you know what he was talking about? Did Coach Kincaid seem to know who he was?”

  “No,” Katie said, finally looking up at Mal. “He seemed confused, but I think maybe he thought it was one of our neighbors who’d realized what was going on with us, so he figured he’d better open the door and try to settle the guy down. He told me to hide in his spare room closet. I did, and then he let the guy in. They started arguing, but I could barely hear any of it.”

  “Did he seem to know the man? Did you recognize the guy’s voice?”

  “No. But after a few minutes, I realized that I’d left my iPhone in the bedroom.”

  “Wait? Your iPhone? The one that Coach gave you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. How did you know about it?”

  “Your father said that he gave you the phone, but that he made you give it back.”

  She looked down, guilty. “I tried to, but Peter wouldn’t take it. He said I needed contact with the outside world, and a tool in case my dad ever got out of hand again. He knew about the problems we were having.”

  “What do you mean contact with the outside world?”

  “My dad is super religious. He won’t let us have a TV, a computer, or a smart phone. Not me or my mother. Because they’re gateways to hell.”

  Mal wondered if Katie knew that her father was just using his twisted version of religion to control them. Or did she believe what she’d been taught?

  “So I hid it. The phone was usually off, and always on silent. I’d take it out at night, when I went to bed, and go on the internet. Sometimes I’d video chat with Peter.”

  “Do you have the phone with you now?”

  Katie pulled the iPhone out of her pocket and handed it to Mallory, not making eye contact.

  Mal wondered if the coach had given her the phone because he wanted the girl to have access to the modern world that most other kids had, in addition to being able to call the sheriff’s office on her father, or if he was only using the phone to groom the girl.

  Mal was disgusted by both of the men in Katie’s life. Was it any wonder that there were so many shitty people in the world? They were raised by shitty parents, and preyed upon by shitty predators? What hope did kids like Katie have without a decent adult in their life?

  Mal had seen so many kids like Katie caught in the cycle, living a loop of awful decisions, or worse, becoming just like the monsters who made them — abusing their kids or doing drugs. It was a shit show, and Mal wished there was more she could do to put an end to it all.

  “I was sneaking into his room when I saw them,” Katie continued. “The guy had a gun to Peter’s head in the living room, and he was forcing him to write something.”

  “Did you see the man?”

  “Not his face. Only his back. He was wearing a mask.”

  “What kind of mask? What color? Did it have anything on it, like a team name or logo or something?”

  “It was black. A ski mask, I think. I don’t remember anything about it, though. And I couldn’t see the front.”

  “What was he wearing? What else can you tell me about him?”

  “He was heavy. Not fat, but stocky. And I think he was a bit shorter than Coach. He was wearing black dress pants and a black jacket.”

  “Any rings? Did you see any tattoos?”

  “No, not that I can remember.”

  “Then what?”

  “I couldn’t hear everything, but then he handed a second gun to Coach and told him that he knew what he had to do.”

  “What was he trying to get him to do?”

  “To kill himself. If Peter didn’t do it, then the guy said that he would. And then he’d expose all of the coach’s secrets. To everyone. Said he knew about the swinger’s club he went to in Jacksonville and the kiddie porn on his computer. He’d destroy Coach K’s wife and kids’ lives. Peter was crying. Begging him not to hurt them. And the guy said, ‘It’s your choice.’ Then … Peter put the gun in his mouth and fired.”

  Katie caught her breath, spent a few seconds trying not to cry, then continued. “I wanted to do something. But I could only stand in the doorway, trying not to scream. And then I hid.”

  Katie collapsed into tears.

  Mal stood and hugged her, wondering who the hell was behind this. She was already processing the new information, working to determine if the man who murdered the coach was also the person at the ball field.

  Mal let the girl cry on her shoulder until she was empty.

  Then she asked, “What happened next?”

  “The front door slammed closed. Then I heard a car starting. I ran to Coach’s bedroom window and looked outside. I saw the killer’s car.”

  “You did?” Mal said, thrilled to hear it.

  “Yeah. It was blue. I’m not sure what kind, but I might know it if I saw it again. I also got part of the license plate number.”

  Katie reached into her dress pocket, then handed Mal a folded up piece of scrap paper.

  She opened it and saw two letters and a number. “Was this the first part of the plate or last?”

  “First.”

  “Oh, wow, Katie. That’s amazing that you could focus in a moment like that. This is such a huge help. What happened after that?”

  “I ran out of the house and went home. Am I in trouble?”

  “Trouble? For what?”

  “Leaving the scene of a crime?”

  “No, don’t worry,” Mal said. “Thank you, for your bravery, and for getting this.”

  “Can I have my phone back?”

  “I’m sorry, Katie, but we’ll need to keep it for the investigation.”

  “Will you be able to catch him?”

  “We’re going to try.”

  “Is there any way he knows I was there? Am I in any danger?”

  “I’m going to see if we can put you in protective custody.”

  “What about my mother?”

  “We’ll figure that out,” Mal said, changing the subject. “When you were in the coach’s house, you said he was looking for his phone. Did you ever find it?”

  “No.”

  “When we arrived at the scene, it was near him. Did you happen to see it when you left?”

  “No. I couldn’t even look at Peter. I felt bad, leaving and all, but I could tell he was dead and there was nothing I could do. Right?”

  “No,” Mal said, “there was nothing you could do.”

  She hugged Katie again, her mind sifting through the facts, trying to decide the next step, eager to send her new info back to headquarters and find the suspect’s car. But first, she needed to deal with the girl’s father.

  She told Katie to sit tight on the swing as she called Carrie Thompson in Victim Services.

  “Hey, Carrie. I need your help with something.”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 9 - JORDYN PARISH

  Jordyn couldn’t look at the call sheet pinned to the rear wall of the stage, even though it was finally announcing parts for the upcoming play.

  Most of the class had leaped from their seats and raced to the stage before Ms. Franks had finished p
osting it.

  Bobby, standing behind Jordyn, nudged her. “Come on. Go look.”

  Brianna Gilchrest squealed. A bubbly blonde senior who sincerely believed she was the next Meryl Streep, even though she stood onstage like a wood chipper. “I got Abigail!”

  Her little clique congratulated her, while other kids walked away from the sheet either dejected or smiling.

  Bobby prodded her again. “Come on.”

  “What’s the point? I probably didn’t get anything.”

  Bobby ran to the stage, looked at the sheet, then waved Jordyn over.

  She approached, ignoring Brianna and her group, bragging about their roles and how Brianna was a perfect Abigail.

  Bobby pointed to the sheet. “You got Tituba.”

  “The slave? Really?” She shook her head, disgusted.

  “You totally should’ve gotten Abigail. Not her.”

  “Whatever.” Jordyn tried to hide her disappointment behind an artificial smile. She didn’t want Brianna or her friends seeing her upset. Jordyn hadn’t had any run-ins with Brianna, but the girl gave her dirty looks like they were on sale. And when Jordyn read Abigail’s part in front of the class, Brianna and her snobby friends were all giggling.

  “What did you get?” Jordyn asked.

  “John Proctor,” he said matter-of-factly, trying to play down that he got the leading male role.

  “Wow, that’s awesome! Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  As most of the rest of the class broke into groups, chatting through the final minutes before the lunch bell, Bobby led Jordyn to stage left, away from everyone.

  “Do you have plans for lunch?”

  “Maybe,” Jordyn said, playing coy, but also not wanting him to ask her to sit with him. He always hung out in the quad with a big group of the school’s most popular kids. She wouldn’t fit in.

  They were the preps, jocks, and the beautiful people. Jordyn was a freaky little emo chick with purple hair. Not a good fit.

  “Meeting up with a boyfriend?”

  “Maybe,” she said being coy.

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Why?” she asked, a part of her wanting him to invite her even if she planned to say no.

  “Well, I hate to chase a taken girl.”

  Jordyn laughed, a bit too loud. She could feel eyes on her but didn’t dare to steal a look. She wasn’t sure how to respond, couldn’t believe this conversation was happening.

  Bobby wasn’t just popular; he was best friends with Calum Kozack —pretty much the most popular kid in school. Bobby was good looking, smart, and nice despite the odds. She figured they might be friends, but that was the most she could hope for.

  Jordyn had been what her father called a “social butterfly” as a kid. But that was before her teen years. Before puberty hit her earlier than anyone she knew. Before the unwanted attention, the feeling too tall, and being too awkward. Before she was such a total dork.

  Jordyn had never found a group to fit in. She’d made a few friends back home, but then her mother passed away and they moved north, where she felt like a square in a world full of circles.

  But now Bobby Freaking Hollingsworth was “chasing” her?

  She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Felt like everyone was watching them. Felt the stage lights baking her skin.

  She wanted to run away, pretend this wasn’t happening.

  “What?” Bobby asked, his face concerned.

  “Nothing.”

  “So, you want to go to lunch with me?”

  “I dunno. I like to—”

  She stopped. It sounded like a stupid reason to reject his offer, and he might be insulted.

  “Like to what?”

  “I usually pack a lunch and read in the hall outside my next class.”

  Bobby laughed, then with his movie star smile said, “So, you’d rather read than hang out with the star of The Crucible?”

  Another laugh. “I didn’t say that. I, just … I dunno.”

  His smile faded. “What?”

  “I don’t think your friends would like me.”

  “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

  She glanced at Brianna, one of the cool kids that hung out with Bobby and his crew at lunch.

  “I think she hates me.”

  “Well, she’s a bitch. She hates everyone, unless Nate or Calum or I like them, in which case, she’ll kiss their ass.”

  “Yeah, right!” Jordyn said.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “No. She stares daggers at me all the time. Like I pissed in her Corn Flakes or something.”

  “Come with me.” Bobby offered his arm.

  Her heart pounded. Jordyn thought she might hyperventilate.

  Keep calm and play along.

  Jordyn played a mental game when she was anxious. She’d say something like “keep calm and play along” and would pretend that this was happening to someone else, another girl that she was guiding along. It was something her father had taught her years ago, after her first panic attack.

  She slid into Bobby’s arm, walking with him to Brianna and her friends.

  This soooo isn’t happening.

  “Hey, Bri, Jordyn’s gonna come to lunch with us today. Cool?”

  Jordyn thought she was about to unleash a fiery red laser blast, one that would incinerate her in a second. It was only there for a second, but long enough to give Jordyn an Initial Glimpse into her heart. She was used to shitty Initial Glimpses from closet racists. It didn’t happen as much in South Florida, but she’d had a few ugly Initial Glimpses in her new school already.

  Not that she thought Brianna was a racist. One of her inner circle was black and another Latina, so Jordyn figured she was just an elitist bitch who didn’t like Jordyn because of her style or hair. Maybe she could see straight through to Jordyn’s insecurity. Bullies could bullseye weakness.

  But then it was gone, replaced by a smile so wide and phony that, for a moment, she looked like a movie star. “Oh, that’ll be great. About time you come out of your shell, New Girl.”

  “Yeah,” Jordyn said, playing it cool. “Bobby says the same thing.”

  “So, what role did you get?”

  A bitch move to remind her of the pecking order. Jordyn smiled anyway. “Tituba.”

  “Aw, that’s great,” Brianna said.

  “Congratulations,” crowed Bethanee, Brianna’s shorter and less beautiful doppelgänger.

  “Thanks,” Jordyn said.

  Bobby leaned in and whispered into her ear, “See? They do whatever I say.”

  Jordyn kept smiling.

  **

  Lunch for the popular kids at Belmont meant getting your food and meeting in the quad, a spacious open area outside, filled with benches, basketball courts, and enough space for the Army to practice lacrosse. It reminded Jordyn more of a park than a school. Her old campus in South Florida was nothing like this. It had a Commons Area — a giant square carpeted stage between the cafeteria and auditorium — with no seating or activities.

  Not wanting to be the only person to bring a bagged lunch, Jordyn bought a slice of pizza and a Diet Coke from the cafeteria. Brianna and the other girls apparently didn’t eat carbs. It was salad or nothing.

  They were standing and sitting in a loose group of about nine people along two benches, joking around, laughing louder than necessary, and picking songs to play on their phones. A trio of guys tossed a football between them.

  Jordyn nibbled her piece of pizza, watching Bobby joke around with two of his teammates, Adam Ramirez and Nate Thomas.

  It was weird seeing Bobby in his natural environment. For one, he couldn’t sit around these people — at all. He was like a little kid amped on sugar, trying to be the center of attention. The opposite of the laid back, sensitive guy she knew from when they were alone. The guy who could talk for hours about books, plays, and musicals. Around his friends, he seemed to be playing the macho jock.

&nbs
p; Standing next to Nate, who stood maybe 6’ 6”, Adam looked like a kid. He was 5’ 10” and the team’s wiry running back. What Adam lacked in stature, he made up for in volume. Everything was either “dope” or “gay,” and he used the N-word like children use ketchup. Well, he didn’t say nigger, so much as nigga, referring to Nate as nigga several times.

  Though it was said in affection, and Jordyn didn’t think Adam meant to be hurtful, she wondered why Nate tolerated it. She wasn’t sure how many other black friends were in their group, including people who weren’t around right now. Maybe it was something that nobody even thought about.

  Jordyn, growing up with a black father and a white mother, had been teased by kids of every color over the years, putting her in a limbo of emotions whenever stuff like this popped up.

  She pretended to laugh and wondered if she was as complicit as Nate in letting Adam go unchecked. Despite his homophobia and racism, there were times that Adam had her genuinely laughing, like when he chased Nate with a fallen wasp that he’d found on the ground.

  Nate was a big defensive linebacker, not exactly someone you’d think would be afraid of a dead bug, but he practically screamed like a girl as he ran away.

  She finished her lunch, while Bobby’s pizza got cold on the bench beside her with barely a bite missing. She took her plate and half-full Diet Coke to the trash and tossed them inside.

  She was about to go to the bathroom to wash up and check her teeth when Calum Kozack appeared.

  “Where the hell you been?” Adam asked.

  “Your mom didn’t want me to leave,” Calum teased. When everyone stopped laughing he added, “I had to meet with Coach Williams about something. That something being Adam’s mom.”

  Everyone laughed again.

  Brianna greeted Calum with a big kiss on the lips. He cupped her ass as she walked away. Then Calum noticed Jordyn.

  “And who might you be?” He approached Jordyn and spread his arms wide for a hug.

  “Jordyn Parish,” she said, returning the hug uncomfortable.

  “Jordyn’s new to the school,” Bobby said. “We’re in drama together.”