“I hate taking time off. And I’ve already missed more than I’m comfortable with.” I’m being a pain in the ass, still uneasy about the whole thing. Well, more like frightened. When I was younger, it was all I thought about all those times during the needles, hugs, petting, madness. That he would come back and save me, but he never did and I nearly rotted to death in that house. And now, it’s hard to let that all go.
“Then I’ll come to you,” he insists determinedly. “If you say it’s okay, I’ll fly out there and see you.”
I run my hand over my head, letting out a stressed breath. “How long would you stay?”
“As long as you want me to,” he replies. “I’d take a few hours at this point.”
“That’s a far flight for a couple of hours.”
“No, it’s not.” The way he says it makes me want to cry again, but I suck the tears back before they spill out.
“Fine, you can come out if you want.” I push myself to my feet. “And you can stay for a few days.”
It takes him a second to respond and when he finally does, I can tell he’s crying but trying not to let me hear it. “Good. I’m so glad. I’m so, so glad.”
It feels so strange and unbelievable, letting stuff go that I’ve been carrying around forever. I just hope that it all works out, but I’m not holding my breath just yet.
Chapter 15
Violet
When I wake up, Luke’s not in the bed and I have this strange moment where I flip out, not just because Luke isn’t there beside me but also over the way I wake up. My usual gasping ritual is absent, instead my eyes simply opening and all I can think is: What the hell?
It’s more frightening than anything. I’ve been waking up that way and now suddenly I’m not. It feels like a part of me has gone missing and I don’t know what to do with it.
And then my text goes off and makes things worse.
Unknown: Why did you call the police? U fucking cunt. You’re so dead.
I’m trying not to flip out as I read the message over, when Luke walks out of the bathroom. I take one look at him, though, and the problem gets lost. He’s still in his boxers, his hair ruffled, his jaw scruffy, and his eyes red and puffy—either he’s stoned or he’s been crying. I’m guessing it’s the latter.
“What’s the matter?” I sit up quickly, the blanket falling from my chest. I’m still naked from last night and his gaze drifts to my chest, but only for an instant then he rubs his eyes and sighs.
“I called my dad.” He stares down at the floor, a crease at his brow, confused. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I called him and asked him for the money.”
“What’d he say?” I know very little about Luke and his dad’s relationship, other than they don’t have one and Luke has had no interest in having one with him because of his absence during his childhood, so if he asked him for help then it’s a huge deal.
He scratches at the back of his neck, exhaling before looking at me. “He said he would, but I have to come let him visit me.”
I set the phone aside on the nightstand and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “He blackmailed you?”
“No, not really. He just said he’d give me the money and that he wanted to come see me and I kind of just agreed.” He sits down on the bed beside me. “This is so weird.”
Not knowing what else to do, I scoot closer and rub his back. “I’m sorry,” I say. “But I’m glad he’s helping you, instead of you trying to gamble again.” My words are a shocking. Usually, I crave danger, but I’m discovering that if danger means Luke getting hurt it’s not thrilling at all.
“Yeah, I guess I am too.” He lowers his head into his hands. “But we’ll see how it goes. I’m not going to go into this hopeful or anything.” He sits for a while with his head down, breathing softly—I think he might be trying not to cry.
I stay quiet and keep rubbing his back until finally he raises his head back up, trying to discretely wipe the tears away from his eyes. He clears his throat a few times and then gets to his feet, grabbing a pair of jeans from his bag. “I think we should get going,” he tells me. “The last thing I want to do is stay here with Cole. The guy is in way worse than me.” He pulls his jeans on and does up the button. “Which says a lot.”
I nod, then climb out of bed and go over to my bag, his eyes following me the entire way. “I’m actually anxious to get back too,” I say, grabbing a shirt and pair of black pants. “I talked to Detective Stephner last night and even though he wouldn’t tell me anything, I could tell there was something going on with the case.” I slip on the jeans. “I’m hoping it’s good.”
“When will you know?” he asks, pulling a red shirt over his head.
I shrug then put my own shirt on and flip my hair out of the collar. “I’m not sure. He said he might call me this morning but all I got was another text from stalker guy.”
He frowns. “Did you tell the detective about those?”
I nod. “He’s looking into it.”
He presses his lips together as if he wants to say something, but then thinks against it and starts wandering around the room, picking up his stuff and packing his bag. I start packing too, not bothering to fold my clothes. It’s actually a habit I picked up from when I was young. After packing for the fifth time to change homes, I gave up and just stuffed everything in it. And didn’t bother unpacking when I got to my new home.
“You think it’s about my mom?” Luke asks so suddenly it throws me off guard and takes me a moment to respond. “What the detective can’t tell you yet? Do you think it has something to do with my mom?”
I zip up my bag and pick it up. “I wonder… maybe.”
“I hope it is,” he says, anger lacing his tone. I know that he means it—that he wants her locked up just as much as I do. He swings the bag over his shoulder, his muscles jerking a little as if they’re sore. Then he walks up to me and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek.
“You ready?” he asks, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear and looking me steadily in the eye. It seems like he’s asking me much more than if I’m ready to leave his uncle’s house. Like if I’m ready to go back to Laramie. To live with him.
I nod, not sure which question I’m answering, but I guess I’ll find out when we get there.
***
Luke’s uncle seems really upset when we walk downstairs to leave, arguing with Luke over wanting to call his father and borrow some money. Luke says nothing about the fact that he already, I guess deciding to let Cole clean up his own mess. Irate, Cole stumbles over to the coffee table in the living room and chugs about a half a bottle of Vodka. “To ease the pain of the beating,” he says when he notices us watching him. Then he flops down on the sofa and moments later he passes out.
Ryler seems like he wants to go with us, just to get out of the house, lingering in the foyer as Luke drops his bag onto the floor to give him one of those awkward one-armed hugs guys do.
“You can come hangout with us whenever,” Luke tells him, pulling back and picking up his bag, his eyes drifting to the living room where Cole’s on his back, his arm dangling over the side of the sofa. “Even if it’s just for a break.”
Ryler smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he lifts his hands, What the hell would I do in Wyoming?
Luke looks to me for translation and when I pass a long the message, he says, “The University’s pretty cool there.”
He raises his pierced eyebrow, amused. Me go to school? That’s a funny idea. I barely made it through high school.
“Hey, I was the same way. In fact, I almost dropped out,” I tell him, feeling strange that I’m talking about my past so lightly. “And I actually like college.”
Really? He mouths and I nod. He pauses, looking back at his dad who was never there for him growing up, beaten up and passed out drunk on the sofa and then mouths to me, Maybe one day.
I nod then he gives Luke and I his phone number and we finish saying good-bye. Then Luke and I hit the road.
It’s early, the sky glowing orange from the sunrise, which means we should get there before sunset. We’re a few days earlier then we planned, which means we’ll be missing less classes and I think Luke and I can both appreciate that fact. We spend half the drive listening to his music and he playfully tells me he’s going to make us a fuck tape of our own when we get home. He keeps saying we and I know I should be grateful, that I have a place to live with people who care about me, but it’s scaring me at the same time. God, if I could just have one more moment with my parents so they could tell me that this is all okay. That I’m doing the right thing.
As I’m in the middle of this thought, my phone starts to vibrate from inside my pocket. I quickly turn down the music and take out my phone, letting out a breath of relief when I see the screen. “It’s the detective,” I tell Luke and he nods, looking as nervous as me.
“Please say you can tell me now,” I say as I put the phone up to my ear.
“I can, but it’s both good and bad news,” he tells me, sounding a bit disheartened. “The good news is I finally got that warrant to search Mira Price’s home. And we found something that could be potentially useful but we’ll still need to run some DNA tests right now to confirm.” He gives a long pause. “And then there’s the bad news. Two bad newes actually.”
“That’s not even a word.” I make a joke to attempt to hide my true feelings. That I’m excited and terrified at the same time. They might have evidence. My parents might finally have justice.
Luke gives me a concerned sideways glance as he steers the truck down the freeway. “Is everything okay?” he whispers.
I shrug and whisper back, “I’ll let you know in a minute.”
“Well, I’m declaring it a word for this conversation,” he says and then sighs, losing all humor. “The first bad news is that Mira is MIA and from talking to the neighbors and landlord, she’s been gone for a while.”
I glance over at Luke, wondering if he might know where she is. “So what does that mean exactly?”
“It means that even if we can make the arrest, we have to find her first.”
I want to hit something. Scream until my lungs burst. This isn’t fair! This isn’t fair. God dammit! “And what’s the second thing?” My voice shakes as my pulse hammers.
It takes him a second or two to answer and when he does, he sounds reluctant. “We found out who’s been sending those texts to you… We tracked the calls to Preston Parkington, the guy you’ve been living with.”
“What?” I exclaim, ready to bombard him with questions and Luke’s head whips in my direction. “But that’s not even possible… how could he… I don’t get it…” What the hell? Is this my punishment? For messing up?
“It gets worse,” Detective Stephner says. “Due to the threatening material in the text, we were in the right to go to his house and question him, but the trailer had been vacated when we got there.”
“But he was just living there a few days ago... I was there… I saw him.” My heart is thrashing in my chest, my pulse soaring a million miles a minute and I hate the adrenaline rush inside me right now, so much. “He has to be doing this to get back at me, because I left.”
“That’s what I thought too, but then I started doing some research on him, a background check and what not and found out a few things that have brought up a big concern.”
“Like what?”
“Like he has a record. The fact that he changed his name about fourteen years ago. He used to go by Danny Huntersonly.”
“But why would he change his name?” I shake my head, trying to ignore Luke’s worried look boring into the side of my head. “And why would child services ever let him take me in?”
“Well, technically the papers state that his girlfriend took you in. A Kelley Arlingford was registered with the state to foster parent.”
“Kelley was his wife.” I grip the door handle for support because I’m veering toward hyperventilation and feel like I’m going to pass out. “When she introduced him to me, she said Preston was her husband and then they got divorced and Preston was talking about how a while ago she was getting remarried.” As soon as I say it though, I know there’s a huge flaw. Because most of my information comes from Preston, so therefore there’s a chance almost everything could be a lie.
“Well, she was lying to you then and the state apparently,” he says. “In your records, Kelley lived alone and the state didn’t even know about Preston, at least from the reports. It’s kind of a flaw in the system I guess, not making sure there was no one living with her. But when children get to be that old… and there’s so maybe of them… sometimes they slip through the cracks.”
He’s telling me stuff I already know, since I lived in those cracks for years. “Did Kelley know about Preston? I mean, did she know about his name change and past?”
“I don’t know, but we’re going to try and find out.” Another pause. “There’s more.”
“Oh God.” My head falls forward and Luke’s hand slides across the seat, his fingers lace through mine, and I hold onto him for dear life. “I don’t think I can take anymore.”
“You need to hear this,” the detective says. “You need to understand the severity.”
“Fine.” I clutch onto Luke’s hand so tightly I’m sure it hurts. “Go head.”
“Did you know Preston had a secret room under his house.”
“Yeah… well, no…” Shit. What do I say? That I knew he kept drugs there. “Well, he kept it locked but I knew that it existed.”
“I figured you didn’t, considering what was in there.”
“Which was what?”
Another pause. I’m beginning to hate the silence. “A room with pictures and articles of you all over the wall… even some of your parents.”
“I don’t understand… why would he have that?” I mean, I know he wanted me and everything but that seems like the move of a stalker… “Why is he doing this? It doesn’t make any sense? I mean, he was always a little weird and controlling, but why all of a sudden would he resort to threatening texts and a crazy room full of pictures?”
He sighs again and I prepare myself for another blow to the gut. “Violet, I’m not sure how much you know about your parents, but back in the beginning of the case there were few suggestions that no one every really mentioned to you, simply because you were too young and honestly we didn’t want it getting out to the public. Keeping certain details a secret can better help us convict the right person. However, now I think you might need to know, but I want you to prepare yourself for it.”
“Okay, I’m prepared.” Biggest lie I ever told and I wouldn’t have had the guts to say it if I would have known what he was going to say next.
“During the first investigation of your parents, the lead detective on the case found some details about your parents—well, your mother anyway—that connected them to a few local drug dealers. It was a past thing, I think that ended a few years after you were born when your mother married your father.”
“No, my mother married my dad before I was born,” I say, but really I have no idea—I barely no anything about them, having lost them at such a young age.
“No, she married him when you were about three years old,” he says. “After she got her act together and got out of rehab, but her past was still chasing her and she owed the wrong people some money. The police were never quite able to track down the people in question and honestly all evidence pointed to a random burglary, but after digging into Preston’s previous records, I discovered he was living in Cheyenne area at the time and dealing drugs… and some of the pictures he had of you… you were younger.”
“No… you’re fucking lying.” I shake my head over and over until I get dizzy. “You’re lying, you’re lying, you’re lying. I didn’t live with my parent’s killer. That would never happen.” Unless it was done on purpose? Oh my God, was it somehow done on purpose by Preston?
“I’m not saying he’s their killer in any way shape
or form,” he says in a gentle voice. “It’s more than likely that he might have developed an obsession with you since most of what we found points toward stalker behavior, which happens sometimes with public cases like these, but I want you to have the details now, just in case.”
Just in case what?
Just in case what?
Just in case what?
The words echo inside my head over and over again until suddenly I’m seeing Preston’s face in the memory, the one where I’m in the basement and he’s yelling at Mira Price while she sings and sings and sings. So clearly. But is it just because it was suggested or did I finally put the pieces together.
“No! My mom never did drugs… they were good people…” And to me, the six year-old with beautiful dreams, they were. They were perfect. And I want to remember them that way. I want to erase everything he said, forget I ever heard it, but I can’t.
The Probability of Violet and Luke Page 18
