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The First Touch of Sunlight

Page 28

by Len Webster


  She just wanted out of the house.

  Meredith wanted to go home.

  Wanted to scald her skin with hot water and wash it all away.

  Pretend that it had never happened.

  She pulled the door closed as she stepped into the cold night. Her wobbly legs had distanced her from the house. When she had made it to the end of the Yeller’s driveway, her legs buckled and she fell to the ground.

  She didn’t cry.

  No tears came out.

  She was in shock.

  Right now, she was just afraid that someone would find her and ask her what was wrong if they saw her tears. So she was thankful that her body had no idea how to function.

  How would she tell someone what had happened?

  No one would believe her.

  She was sure of it.

  “Meredith?”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Samuel Michaels walking towards her.

  Oh, God.

  He was the last person she wanted to see. Not after she had sulked over the fact that he had turned her down to be her science partner.

  Now, it all seemed so irrelevant.

  She had no cares about who her partner was.

  All she wanted to do was sit in a dark room and not think.

  Not remember.

  Not feel it.

  “You’re leaving?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

  Words seemed to have disappeared with her tears.

  She nodded and then returned her focus to the road.

  When footsteps echoed, she sighed, relieved that he was walking away.

  But she was wrong.

  Sam Michaels lowered himself down and sat on the driveway with her.

  “Someone coming to pick you up?”

  Meredith craned her neck to see him staring out at the house across the road.

  “Yeah,” she said in a small voice. “Cooper’s on his way.”

  He nodded. He knew who Cooper was. “You mind if I wait here with you until he does?”

  “Really?” Her voice sounded strained.

  Sam then turned his head, and their eyes met. The lights that lit up the Yeller’s drive brightened his face, showing off his soft brown eyes. The belief that twinkled in them caused her heart to clench. It was remarkable.

  She’d always had a crush on him.

  Always wanted to be his friend.

  But Sam seemed picky about who he chose as his friend.

  And she had never made the cut.

  “Really.” Then his small smile straightened into a tight line. “I’m sorry that I said no to being your science partner the other day.”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” she said.

  Sam shook his head. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry. Pauline asked first, and I’d already said yes. If she hadn’t, trust me, I would have loved to spend the next term dissecting frogs, rats, hearts, and eyes with you.”

  Meredith let out a surprising laugh. “It’s okay. I asked too late.”

  Then a bubble of guilt exploded in her chest.

  A boy had just forced himself on her not even ten minutes ago, and here she was, laughing with Sam.

  She felt her smile disappear, and those memories resurfaced.

  Meredith looked back out at the street, and her right thumb began to brush against her left wrist as if to remind her that she would have bruises soon.

  Then Sam and Meredith entered moments of silence.

  He hadn’t realised it, but sitting next to her and not asking if she was okay had meant the world.

  It felt supportive.

  It was nice.

  Suddenly, a hand covered hers, stopping her thumb’s movements. Sam’s fingers trailed down her wrist and to the palm of her hand, entwining his fingers through hers. Meredith craned her neck and stared at the side of his face.

  He was beautiful.

  With his strong jaw and that sweet smile.

  She’d met him on the first day of high school.

  He had looked her way and smiled.

  But it was different.

  His smile was sweet and nervous.

  It made her feel worthy.

  And right now, she felt okay.

  Sam was unaware of what this one moment meant to her.

  How unaware he was that she was sure she could fall in love with him at that moment.

  But Meredith said nothing.

  Instead, she took in the sight of him.

  And her heart clenched.

  Because she knew that she had, in fact, fallen in love with Samuel Michaels.

  chapter forty

  SAM

  Present

  Dead.

  Meredith Driessen was dead.

  She couldn’t be.

  He’d texted her over an hour ago.

  He’d spoken to her this afternoon.

  He’d woken up with her in his arms.

  It wasn’t true.

  It couldn’t be.

  Sam shook his head, feeling the heat unfurl in his chest. “What kind of sick joke is this, Phil?”

  Phil stepped closer and set his hands on his shoulders. “It’s not a joke, Sam. Ed’s there. He was one of the first at the scene.”

  A cold sweat drenched his entire body. Ed had been one of their classmates in high school and had gone on to become a paramedic. Breathing became impossible as Sam shook.

  “Dad?” Josh asked as he sandwiched himself between Sam and Phil.

  Sam fell to his knees.

  Tears ran down his face as his son frowned. “Why are you crying?”

  Sam heard a wail. “No, she’s not dead! My best friend isn’t dead!”

  It was Margot.

  Cooper must have told her.

  Sam cupped Josh’s small face. “You stay with Mum, okay?”

  “Where are you going?”

  He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from bawling. “I’ll be right back, okay? Stay with Mum.”

  Then Sam got off his knees and wiped his cheeks. “Where is she?” he asked Phil.

  Phil swallowed hard, his eyes glassy. “The train station.”

  Sam winced.

  The station.

  Where he had seen her for the first time in seven years.

  The spot where Shaun Yeller had killed himself.

  “Did she—”

  “No. I don’t know the entire story. But there was a car. Sam, there’s more, but Ed had to go.”

  More?

  What more could there be?

  “I have to go to her,” he mumbled as he stepped away from Phil. “She can’t have died there, Phil. I told her I love her. This isn’t how it was supposed to play out. I was gonna tell her the truth tonight. I was gonna ask her to stay with me.”

  “I know, Sam,” Phil said. “Come on. I’ll drive you there. You’re in no state to drive.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Margot cried.

  “No. You’ve done enough, Margot. Just stay here,” Phil ordered.

  Sam was surprised to see Phil telling her no.

  But she was drunk.

  And emotional.

  It wasn’t a good combination.

  Sam didn’t care if she came or not. Right now, he had to see. He had to be with her.

  The red, blue, and white lights got his attention.

  Police officers blocked off the train station with parked police cars, ambulances, and a fire truck. Sam got out of Phil’s car once he’d turned off the engine. There were camera crews to the left of him, standing in front of the police tape.

  Sam hadn’t bothered to close the car door as he raced towards the boom gates. “MEREDITH!” he screamed her name.

  She didn’t reply.

>   She wasn’t dead.

  She couldn’t be.

  “Meredith, where are you?” he cried desperately.

  Then arms were around him.

  “Sir, this is a sealed off crime scene,” an officer said.

  Sam pushed off him. “My girlfriend … Meredith. Have you seen her? They say she’s … Have you …”

  The officer released him and then took off his hat. “Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to come with me.”

  “No,” Sam whispered and pushed the officer, not caring that it could be deemed as assault. Then he raced to the paramedic he knew. “MEREDITH!”

  Ed spun around. He was still as tall and lanky as he was in high school. “Sam, you can’t be here.” He was by a gurney. A man with a broken nose and a head gash was lying on it. He had a uniform on, and Sam suspected that he was the train driver. Then Ed waved over the police officer. “Officer, this is Samuel Michaels.”

  “Mr Michaels,” said the same officer from before. Sam turned around. He had become a blur. He couldn’t see his face through his tears. “Mr Michaels, could you please identify something for me?”

  He nodded.

  Then the officer held up a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside was a bloody necklace.

  The yellow gem of the sunflower pendant had him falling to his knees.

  “Oh, God!” he sobbed.

  It belonged to Meredith.

  The same necklace he’d given her almost a week ago.

  “Mr Michaels,” the officer said.

  Sam couldn’t answer.

  Meredith was dead.

  Sam couldn’t understand why. She had been excited about tonight. She had told him how excited she was to see Josh outside the classroom.

  Crime scene.

  That was what the officer had said.

  “Mr Michaels, what is your association with Bruce Michaels?”

  Bruce …

  “Bruce is Sam’s father,” Phil answered for him.

  Sam’s vision was a blur of black. He couldn’t see Phil, but he felt his hand on his shoulder.

  “Right,” the officer said. “I’ll have one of the officers escort you to the hospital. Mr Michaels, I’m sorry. This must be hard for you to comprehend. I do have questions for you, but I will ask them a little later. Here’s my card.”

  “Thanks, officer,” Phil said.

  Sam was numb.

  The woman he loved was dead.

  He shook as Phil helped him to his feet. “Phil, did he kill her?”

  Phil’s hands squeezed his arms. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

  Murder-suicide.

  That was what Sam had overheard one of the officers tell Phil.

  He might be too shocked to talk, but he could hear what they said.

  As they began to talk in detail, Sam had walked away and found a corner in the waiting room of the ER. He’d slumped to the ground and cried.

  It was so painful to hear.

  She had died a bloody death.

  His father’s car had her blood all over it.

  Her phone had been destroyed when the train had crashed into the Porsche.

  Phil had brought Sam down to the hospital to identify his father’s body. Phil had told him that Josh and Beth went home and that if he needed Beth, she was standing by, ready for his phone call if he needed to talk to anyone.

  Sam stretched out his legs and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Then he stood up as he unlocked his phone. Her missed calls were all there.

  Three hours ago, she was still alive.

  Three hours ago, if he hadn’t been late to the party, he’d have stopped her from leaving.

  Three hours ago, she had been breathing.

  Three hours ago, she hadn’t died a brutal death.

  Sam called his voicemail and ignored the ones from his murderous father. Then he got to Meredith’s first voicemail.

  First voicemail: Hey, it’s Meredith. Your voicemail greeting lacks … well, everything. We’re gonna work on that. I’m here at Margot’s party, and you’re … not. I’ll see you when you do get here. I love you.

  I love you.

  She had left that message for him when she had arrived at Margot’s party.

  Sam gripped his phone harder.

  His heart collapsed, falling into depths unknown.

  The pain in him was worse than anything he’d ever felt.

  “God, Meredith,” he cried as he heard the automatic voice tell him the date and time of the next voicemail she had left.

  Final voicemail: Hey, it’s me. Meredith. I’m so happy that I got your voicemail right now. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry that I doubted you all these years. I know the truth, Sam. I understand. You might not understand what has happened but just know that I love you. And if I just got the last week with you, I would trade my life for it every time. You’re a great father, Sam. You chose right … I loved you. I love you. I have always loved you. I want you to know that all the seconds, minutes and hours … all the upcoming days, months, and years that I should have lived, I would have lived loving you even more … No matter what has happened to us, listen to me. Listen to me say this as if it’s the first time and that we have time to start all over again. Think of this as the first time and not the last. I love you, Samuel Michaels.

  Sam’s phone fell out of his hand as he slid down the wall, sobbing at her last words. She had sounded terrified. But she sounded strong, too.

  He had heard her cries.

  And her sharp inhale.

  He heard her love.

  And her goodbye.

  Footsteps rushed towards him, and then Sam felt arms around him. They were Phil’s. He hadn’t left the hospital. He’d stayed.

  Sam cried even harder. “She’s gone, Phil. He fucking took her.”

  Phil’s chest vibrated, and Sam knew he was crying. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

  “I love her,” Sam sobbed. “I love her. She should have stayed in the Netherlands. At least she’d still be alive. I killed her, Phil. I killed her.”

  Phil pulled back. “Bruce did this. Not you. She loved you. She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. Don’t blame yourself, Sam.”

  “He told her the truth. She died because I never told her the truth. She died because of me. Because I couldn’t be a fucking man and tell her that I wasn’t Josh’s dad. He used it against me. He murdered her. He tortured her. She didn’t deserve that kind of death—”

  A deep throat cleared, causing him to stop talking.

  It was Constable Randleman, the officer from the crime scene.

  “It’s time, Mr Michaels.”

  chapter forty-one

  SAM

  Present

  A wallet.

  A wedding ring.

  And a photo of Sam from when he was in kindergarten.

  All personal belongings used to identify his father.

  Items not body parts.

  The impact of the train had left his father unrecognisable.

  There wasn’t much to identify except for what they had found at the scene.

  “That’s his,” Sam confirmed to the constable.

  “Are you sure?” It sounded routine. He didn’t appear to doubt Sam’s confirmation.

  “I’m sure. All that stuff belonged to him.” Sam blinked at the photo, somewhat surprised that his father had cared enough to keep it. “My father’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” Constable Randleman said.

  “Don’t. Don’t be sorry. He killed the woman I love. If you want to be sorry about anyone dying, be sorry about Meredith. She didn’t deserve any of this.”

  A large lump lodged in his throat.

  Meredith.

  My Meredith.

  The woman I love.

  He murdere
d her.

  He killed her.

  “I sincerely apologise.”

  Sam wiped at his cheeks, removing the tears that had begun to trail. Then he lifted his gaze from Bruce’s belongings to the police officer. “I want a DNA test. I want fingerprints done. I want to know—without a shadow of doubt—that he’s really dead.”

  “Of course.”

  Sam knew that they would be done even without his asking. It was a murder case. Although the murderer had died at the scene, they had to know why.

  Sam did, too.

  Why Meredith?

  Why not him?

  “Can I see her?” Sam asked.

  Randleman gave him a tight smile. “I’m sorry. They haven’t cleared us to yet.”

  Sam felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

  He was winded by the constable’s response.

  “Why the fuck not?” Sam had yelled. “My girlfriend, who I should have protected and loved for seven years, is dead! I want to see her! I want to—”

  “Mr Michaels, you cannot identify Miss Driessen’s body.”

  “Her name was Meredith!” he cried. “And she was the best goddamn thing that had ever happened to me. I made her go away. I hurt her. But I loved her. She died not knowing how much I fucking love her.”

  “Mr Mich—”

  Sam shook his head. Then he searched around the cold autopsy room they were in. He stormed towards the closest metal door handle. He knew that a body lay inside. He wasn’t sure if it was the one he was looking for, but he’d search through all of them.

  He would identify Meredith’s body.

  He would tell her parents.

  He would grovel and plead for their forgiveness.

  He was the reason they had lost their only daughter.

  “Mr Michaels, please. I understand that you’re going through a difficult time. But there’s nothing I can do. They haven’t told us anything. She was declared dead when the ambulance had arrived at the scene. After that, I don’t know. If you’d like, I can go find out where she is.”

  Sam abandoned his plan to search through all the tables for her. Instead, he watched Randleman speak into his radio attached to his vest before he nodded.

 

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