Second Nature (Crimson Cove Mysteries Book 2)

by Tara Brown

  “What do you mean?” Sierra’s cheeks flushed again as she shook her head. “I hadn’t really thought about it like that.” The way her bright-blue eyes widened made me feel bad. I was scaring her more than any of the events we had lived through.

  That didn't even make sense to me. The events of the summer had shown me the capability of the killer. I saw it as a bar: the level at which he would go to exact his revenge for whatever Rachel had done. I was prepared for that level to be maintained or exceeded for the rest of us.

  Sierra wasn't like that. Seeing and living through everything hadn’t scared her as badly as it had me with the what-ifs. Obviously, she had never experienced being unsafe in her own mind.

  She was the girl who used her imagination for fun things, whereas I worried. It was why Lindsey and I got on so well. We both worried. Of course Lindsey also went off the deep end with her worrying. Her imagination was better than mine and her self-control was fairly weak.

  “You really think we should be looking over our shoulders, even if nothing has happened in a month?” She had lost the confident tone and was glancing about the busy hallway.

  “Yes and no. Be cautious but leave the worrying up to me.” I sighed and pulled her to where our five lockers had always been. There wasn't any point in stressing her out. She wasn’t going to help solve the mess so why make her worry about it?

  “I will. We both know you’re going to worry anyway, so why let this bother both of us?” She shrugged and laughed it off, but the look was still in her eyes.

  When we rounded the corner we both came to a dead stop. Sage was standing next to our lockers with Rachel’s open. It felt wrong, dirty even, to open someone else’s locker. Something only Lindsey would do, what with her love of snooping.

  But it wasn't Sage with it open. It was Rita. She was looking in—in at the giant mirror Rachel had installed in the back. Rita combed her fingers through her silky dark hair as she admired herself. Sage looked forlorn or lost as she twirled a thick chunk of her blonde hair. Her lips moved like she was blathering on about something Rita was oblivious to.

  I stepped back, still gripping Sierra’s thin arm. “What the hell?”

  “Guess they gave her locker away. Already,” Sierra’s voice dropped off again, losing the laugh she had had a moment ago. She tightened and walked forward, dragging me with her. “Hey, girls.” She sounded fine, but I knew she wasn't. “They’re so hard up for lockers they’re giving away this one already?”

  Rita’s gray eyes widened, but Sage’s back straightened. “It was my idea. I figured we should all be together.” Her bright-blue eyes darted around the busy hallway. She glanced about nervously the same way I did. “In case, ya know?”

  I did, but Sierra wasn't buying it. “No. I don't. Did you guys junk out Rachel’s shit?”

  Rita narrowed her gaze, stepping in front of Sage and facing off against Sierra. “Actually, the locker was empty. The police had already taken everything.”

  I gulped but Sierra pulled us forward, looking in. Even the mirror was different.

  “That’s Rachel’s mirror. They didn't want to take that?” Sierra snapped.

  “No, it’s not. Rach had an oval mirror with a kiss mark on the top right.” I pointed.

  Sierra stared into the rectangular-shaped mirror. Her eyes narrowed but she didn't give up. Her stubborn redhead traits were too strong to relent.

  “I can change lockers, Sierra,” Rita sighed and gave in, losing that New Yorker ‘tude she normally sported.

  “No.” Sierra breathed two breaths before she nodded. “She would want us all together. If she were here, she would have forced someone to move so you could be next to us.”

  Sage sighed in relief with me. Her eyes darted to mine. “How’s it going?”

  “Good,” I lied. I didn't know Rita yet so telling her how miserable my life was didn't seem like the right choice.

  “Oh, me too.” Sage smiled wide. “Tom’s been a real dick since Ash left, but he’s going on a business trip this week, thank God. I can’t look at my mom without wanting to choke her out. Sierra’s parents came over last night and it was all normal. Her dad and Tom had a drink. Our moms hung out.” Her eyes flickered at Sierra. “Emily is bummed out, super worried about Ash. Tom is extra mean, with Ash not there to be the buffer. My mom is disappointed in me for losing my boyfriend. Best summer ever.” The way her voice cracked at the end as her bright-blue eyes filled with tears made my heart break.

  “I hear ya.” I didn't need to add more.

  “Me too.” Rita nodded.

  “Me three.” Sierra’s voice finally sounded the way I thought it should. “Best summer ever.”

  The four of us stood paused as the sea of kids, high off of the new school year vibe, frothed around us.

  I suspected the only vibing we would be doing would involve running and screaming. I just hoped I wasn’t alone in this fear.

  Chapter Three

  Pumpkin spice girl

  As we strolled out of our last classroom orientation, I checked my phone to see the selfie Mazy had sent me of herself and Emily at their friend Rosie’s house. I tapped Sage on the arm and showed her the picture.

  “Oh good. I was going to ask if Em could come to your house. Tom has to pack for the trip, and he becomes even more fun when he’s annoyed and everything is lost or missing. Somehow his crap not being where he last saw it is my fault.”

  “Is it wrong that I don't even know him, and yet I want to smash him in the face with a wine bottle?” Rita asked with absolutely no humor in her tone.

  “No. Everyone hates him.” Sierra shook her head, evidently missing the necessary humor one needs when discussing smashing bottles into faces. “There’s a reason Sage’s mom and my dad are butt buddies.”

  “I feel like we don't need butt buddies as a descriptive on this.” I wrinkled my nose.

  “If I could get away with one thing on this planet, Tom would be my choice.” Lindsey scoffed. Sage smiled weakly, not adding anything. I hoped it was because of the butt buddy comment and not because of Vincent.

  “Mine too,” Sierra added. “But I want our parents to be free to be together. I think they’d be happy together. I know my mom’s happy with my uncle. She hardly even comes home now.”

  Sage’s smile faded. She obviously didn't feel the same way. Or the whole thing still made her uncomfortable. Sierra had known about the affair a lot longer. She’d been able to digest it, whereas Sage was still fresh in her hurt.

  “Wanna go get a coffee?” Lindsey asked as she sent a text, likely to Vincent. He was avoiding our circle at Lindsey’s request, which meant all the guys were with him and not us. It was weird.

  But Lindsey didn't want to rub it in Sage’s face that they were dating. She didn't even let us call Vincent her boyfriend or say dating. He was just Vincent and they were hanging out.

  Sage wrinkled her nose, but Rita saved her the awkward lie of avoiding Vince and Lindsey. “Me and Sage can’t. We have to meet our moms.” She glanced at her phone. “In eleven minutes.”

  “I have shit to do too and coffee this late makes me tired, super counterproductive,” Sierra muttered as her eyes darted down the hall, following one of the seniors, Jenson. He glanced back as he rounded a corner. Mischief was dripping from his sly grin. She lifted a hand. “Text later, bitches.”

  Sage followed Sierra’s sashaying backside with her gaze. “I hate how she has sex at school. It’s uncivilized.”

  “And it could be on any one of our desks,” I added, not impressed either.

  Sage’s nose wrinkled. “Gross.” It was quickly swept away by the pleasant smile she always wore in public. “See you girls later.” She leaned in for a kiss and a hug.

  Rita smiled wide. “Don't forget I’m having people over tonight—it’s a welcome-back-to-school party combined with welcoming me to town.” She blew a kiss and backed up. “My place tonight at 8:00.”

  “If you want to come early, you can help set up.
” Sage pointed. “But don't be late.” They linked arms and strutted off, skirts swaying and boots clicking down the hallway.

  “Why do I feel like Rachel didn't die but somehow transformed herself into the body of a marginally prettier girl?” Lindsey whispered.

  “Because that totally happened.”

  “Yeah, it did. Rita and Sage are way too much like Rachel and Sage.” Lindsey shook her head. “You want coffee, right?”

  “Always.” We turned and walked out of the school, heading for our cars. “Is Vince meeting us?”

  “No, he has something to do for his dad.”

  “What?”

  “I don't know.” She lied in her high-pitched lying voice and walked to her car. “Meet me at the Shack.” She waved and climbed in before I could complain about the venue. She knew none of us liked the little hipster crack Shack.

  Immediately, my brain pondered her lying about where Vincent was. She rarely lied to me.

  The drive down the beach in bright Crimson Cove was stunning, especially in the fall. The leaves were just starting to turn, making the area more vibrant than it was normally. It was my favorite season.

  When I pulled up to the Shack coffeehouse, I cringed at the hipsters sitting out front, taking selfies with the ocean view and deep-red leaves. They were all wearing browns, tans, and blues, blending in with each other like a form of elite camouflage.

  The girls wore earthy floral like it was my mom’s prom in the eighties, and the guys had a casual look, as if they were trying to be grungy even though everything they wore cost a fortune.

  The laid back “maybe I camped on the beach” look was complemented by dark-colored beanies and backpacks. The canvas backpacks were simple with leather straps and the odd Canadian flag, hinting each of them was well traveled.

  It wasn't that I doubted they were well traveled. I just doubted they backpacked alone.

  They were likely all rich kids. Not all of them were from my family’s level of wealth, but still very upper middle class. Their trips were paid for by the same parents who bought them their high-end cameras with which they took their #sociality #authenticliving #adventure Instagram pictures.

  The level of confused, narcissistic, privileged youth was growing with each waxed cotton utility jacket Burberry sold. Yes, the kids of my generation looked comfortable and relaxed in their non-portentous outerwear, but every one of them had used a family-paid credit card to purchase what had been made to appear secondhand or even military issue.

  They were plain, even plaid, but it was designer.

  #Authentic had become something of an oxymoron for the morons I was being reared amongst.

  If my family was upper middle class my mother would have been the chairperson of the #EastCoastLiving and #authenticity. Thankfully, I didn't have to try to blend in.

  I was #elite and #blueblood, and my mom always looked like she might be meeting #JackieO for lunch.

  Not that my life wasn't just as phony. Behind the façade of perfection, my life was a mess. In every corner there were arranged marriages and careers chosen to suit the family and connections.

  Even with all that, I was glad to not be a hipster.

  My best friend standing outside the Shack could have blended easily. She was absolutely hipster material.

  She was like #NancyDrew and #HarrietTheSpy, but looked like she was raised on the #WestCoast. In her wildest dreams she was sporting a Polaroid camera and wearing canvas. She could have easily fit in with grungy kids who had #coffeelove and #originalideasbythemasses.

  Lindsey would rock casual comfort wear if she were allowed. Just as I would rock my pajamas and glasses and never leave my room.

  She was getting away with it more and more since her dad and Louisa, the stepmonster, were quite close to splitting up. Her dad was doting on everyone but his wife to make her feel like an outcast, and Louisa was sucking up to Lindsey in hopes of getting her on her side. She had gone from hardly being noticed to smothered. The last month had been hard on her snooping. She hadn’t really had a moment alone. But I wondered if she minded or if she liked always having people around, after being hunted by the killer in her own yard.

  I stepped out of the car, wrinkling my nose at the scent wafting from the little dive. I didn't mind coffeehouses at all; I just didn't love this one. It was filled with people trying a little too hard to be like Bob Marley. Hence, it always smelled like weed.

  It was exactly the sort of place we shouldn't be. I hadn’t been forced here in a while. Going back might not be a bad idea though, what with it being the spot Lindsey had snapped her photo of Skip, the illusive hipster Rachel had been seen making out with.

  He was our best bet of being the driver who took us to Rachel’s party, plus he was the valet at the funeral.

  He was one of the missing pieces of the puzzle. For that I would suffer through the insufferable Shack.

  But if my mom saw me here I would have to go to all the events she demanded, while wearing whatever she picked as punishment so she wouldn't tell my dad. I shuddered and remembered the pain of the fat-sucking-in thing she made me wear last time I let her dress me. It was something horrible called a Spanx, and it made me a double zero. Mommy Dearest’s proudest day. I went from a two to a double zero. No wonder the girls my age were getting their calories from gum. A flesh-colored girdle on a skinny girl was absolute insanity.

  Lindsey smiled wide when she saw my reaction to the cafe. “Not you too? I thought you didn't mind it here.”

  “I suspect what I mind about it and what the others mind are very different.”

  “You are such a snob.” She laughed and led me inside. I wanted to argue that I was, in fact, the opposite of a snob and much more of a realist and opposed to recreational drug use. But I knew she would counter, saying I was judging these people for being so fake and that made me a snob.

  I sighed, realizing she had a point, even if the argument was something I had conjured in my mind.

  “The pumpkin spice latte is out. It’s fall,” she spoke as if she were tempting me.

  “And I am a white girl.” I succumbed and walked to the counter where a girl with a nose ring and a lip ring gave us a weird look—surprised maybe.

  Her face took half a second to register in my memory.

  Emo Coffeehouse Whore.

  The words Sage had screamed echoed in my mind.

  This was the girl in the mist at Lindsey’s house the night Rachel had died. This was the girl who had come over to hang out at midnight. It was weird she’d shown up so late. We were in the hot tub, soaking the leftover blood and DNA from our bodies. We needed the chemicals to kill anything that was on us after we had found Rachel and Sage in the woods. The memory actually brought physical pain as my eyes lowered to my hands in a Lady Macbeth fashion. I forced my gaze back up to stop the memories from playing on repeat.

  The feel of Rachel and Sage as I shook them both, desperately screaming for them to wake up, was so fresh the smells and sounds of the forest came with the memory.

  “Hey, Linds.” The girl smiled awkwardly. As awkward as a girl as beautiful as her could. She matched the coffeehouse with her grungy hipster clothes, but she was stunningly beautiful. Her light skin was flawless, not weathered from hiking and skiing or traveling the world. She had a dimple in her cheek when she smiled. Her amazingly bright-blue eyes were mesmerizing. And her lush dark hair looked as if it were cared for by a top stylist in New York. The beachy waves were fabulous. She even had a streak of pale purple running through, creating a contrast.

  “Hey, Hailey. How’s it going?” Lindsey sounded weird. Her voice was all high-pitched like when she lied.

  Had Sage been right about them? Were they a thing before she got together with Vincent?

  “Great.” The girl’s blue eyes darted about. “You guys want some coffees?”

  It was impossible to hide my discomfort so I nodded and looked down. “Two pumpkin spice lattes please.” I couldn't imagine what else we would be h
ere for.

  “Soy for you still, Lindsey?”

  “Both of us please,” I added, giving Lindsey a look.

  She had some explaining to do, but instead, she gushed and leaned forward. “I love your hair.”

  “Thanks. So this is my last shift.” She started our coffees but chatted with Lindsey. “I go back to school in the city tomorrow.”

  “Oh bummer. School just started here.” She said it so weirdly, like she was trying to fill the air.

  “Right.” The barista handed me my drink, but her eyes never left Lindsey’s. “I assumed it had started earlier when you didn't come in.”

  Lindsey’s cheeks flushed. “I got super busy.”

  “Cool. I was busy too.” The girl appeared miserable.

  The tension was so thick you could dollop it onto the lattes and no one would have known it wasn't foam.

  The whole story started making sense.

  Sage was right.

  That was why Coffee Shop Girl had shown up that night when we were all in the hot tub. That was also why Lindsey was so upset after the girl left. She hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings and it looked like she’d bailed on plans. But she’d also had no a choice at the time. We were all shell shocked from the murder.

  The whole scene made me curious about Lindsey’s lesbian experimentations and how far they had gone. I’d always assumed she wasn't gay. I didn't want to be too obvious as I leaned against the counter and watched as they small talked themselves to near death.

  “So, you driving to the city?” Lindsey asked, brushing her short dark hair behind her ear.

  “Oh. Uhm. Yeah. It’s not far. I like the drive, especially in the fall.”

  “Cool. Driving into Crimson Cove is nicer than leaving though.”

  “Yeah.” She finally handed Lindsey her drink. It was steaming so much from the overheating the milk took that I was sure it was burning her hand through the sleeve. “I guess I’ll see ya around.” Loss and regret filled the beautiful girl’s eyes.