Dee nods. “I saw him at Dave and Dax’s Coffee Shop, and well, naturally, I told him everything, including the fact that they had already transferred you out of the ICU.”
“I invited myself, of course. Just wanted to check up on my favorite student,” he said with a smile.
I grin, grateful for finally having good friends. “I’m just so happy to see you both.” And I mean it, too. God, I miss seeing people. They cooped me up in that dark and dreary room too long. I was going crazy. For real this time.
Mr. Cunningham beams and enters the room. When he reaches me, he gives me a hug. “How have you been? You worried us sick.”
I shrug. “I’m just glad I’m out of the ICU. But who told you guys I was here?”
Dee rolls her eyes. “Duh, girl! Your boyfriend. He’s been updating me because I’d beat him up if he doesn’t. Then, he texted me this afternoon, saying that you’re out of the ICU. He got a text from his mom.” Then she claps her hands. “Oh, I almost forgot. He met with me before leaving for the invitational.”
She’s holding a piece of folded white paper. As I take it from her, she says, “I guess it’s another one of his love letters. He’s such a romantic. By the way, he’s gone until tomorrow night.”
I nod. He wrote it in his letter this morning that the team is heading to the Bay Area for an invitational, and that they’d be leaving sometime by lunchtime.
Mr. Cunningham cuts in my thoughts. “So, Josephine, you don’t have to worry about homework, ok? We can work on that later. I just want you to focus on getting better.”
I smile at him gratefully. “Thank you so much. I appreciate that.”
Dee leans forward to me, her shiny bubblegum lip gloss near my face. “Ok, but I have to tell you something.”
Mr. Cunningham’s face saddens. “Brace yourself, Josephine. This one is hard to stomach.”
Dee nods. “Brandon was arrested this morning.”
“What?” I cry.
“Trust me. I’m so much older than you guys,” he says with a chuckle.
“Anyway. So listen,” she said. “Mr. Dwyer suspended George and the Ice Queen—you know, for what they did to you.”
I’m not that surprised. My adoptive parents told me that fateful night that the families are cooperating with them. But I widen my eyes and try to act surprised.
She continues. “But now, everyone is curious about you. Basically, everyone’s asking what kind of power you pull that made these two families cave in and hold their evil progenies accountable.” She turns to Mr. Cunningham and winks. “You like that? That’s the fancy word you like—‘progeny.’ See, I listen in class.”
He rolls his eyes, then laughs. “I’ll give you a gold star later.”
She giggles. “So anyway, don’t act surprised when you return and everyone’s gawking at you.”
I huff. “It’s not that different from the last few days, Dee.”
They both soften their eyes. Mr. Cunningham reaches over and squeezes my arm. “You’ve had a rough week, haven’t you?”
I shrug. “I’ll survive.”
“Like a boss,” replies Dee.
I smile at them. I can get used to this support. When you’re deprived of it, any act of kindness is an anchor for strength and security.
My mother, finally, returns from the cafeteria a few minutes later, and we continue to chat for another hour. The conversation is fun and lighthearted, and I’m finding myself enjoying our time. When they finally stand up and say their goodbyes, I’m saddened by their departures.
This is the most normal I’ve felt in days.
Chapter 62
Julian
I turn in the packed parking lot of Dave and Dax’s Coffee Shop. Seeing an empty parking stall a few feet from the entrance, I beeline for it. As soon as I’m parked, I do a mental fist pump for my sheer luck at finding a close spot at this busy hour. It’s 6:30 on a Monday night. I just returned to Wakefield from an intense swim invitational at a snooty high school in San Francisco.
Brandon was there, of course, but we didn’t speak a word to each other. Well, he tried twice, once in the locker room and another time in the bus. I ignored him like a little five-year-old because I just don’t have the headspace for that right now. I have to hand it to him, though. Everyone asked about his shiner and that swollen lip, but he just shrugged them off and kept his head in the game.
I hear a rap on my window. When I turn, my English teacher is standing outside with a grin. I give him a nod and get out of the car. “Wassup, Mr. Cunningham.”
“Hey, Ian,” he said. He places his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “How did the invitational go?”
“Like robbing a toy from a baby.”
He laughs. “That easy, huh? Well, congratulations.”
As we face each other, a cold gust of wind hits me, covering me with goosebumps. I shiver, making me zip up my jacket as fast as I can. “Jesus Christ, this cold is getting old. I can’t wait for summer.”
“Tell me about it.” But he makes no move to do the same with his jacket. “Hey, listen, I visited Josephine yesterday and again this afternoon.”
I furrow my brows at the mention of her. “That’s cool. How is she doing?”
“She’s doing much better and getting stronger. They moved her again from the step-down unit to the regular ward. She started physical therapy, and she’s recuperating fast. If she continues like this, they will discharge her by the end of this week.”
I nod, happy to hear that she’s doing great, but feeling jealous of him for seeing her twice and knowing her progress before me. “Cool. I’ll finally get to visit her tomorrow. You know her room number?”
“Room 114A. 11th floor.” Then he smiles. “She misses you. We talked about you this afternoon.”
I suppress a smile because, damn it, if I’m not over the moon to know she’s thinking of me, too. But I keep it cool. Iceberg. “Dope.” But my curiosity gets the best of me, and I look at him a little too eagerly. “What did she say?”
He laughs, then nudges his head towards the entrance. “Let’s go. I’ll buy you coffee, and we’ll chit chat inside.”
I follow him to the coffeehouse. The smell of roasted coffee beans and panini hit my nostrils as soon as we enter. My stomach growls over the noisy, packed cafe.
Mr. Cunningham buys me my coffee while I order two croissant sandwiches with bacon and eggs and a fruit and cheese platter. Yeah, I’m hungry. I’ll eat everyone’s food in this room if I’m guaranteed immunity from prosecution.
While I wait for the servers to heat my meal, my teacher takes a table at the farthest corner. I’m impressed he found one. Dave and Dax is definitely poppin’ tonight. When the barista gives me my orders, I walk over and sit across from him.
“Why are you eating sandwiches and fruits tonight?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be at home eating dinner with your family?”
I shake my head as I unwrap the packaging of my croissant. “It’s Meatless Monday, and my mom is making her tofu and quinoa loaf with a side of roasted brussel sprouts.” I wrinkle my nose.
“Ah, I see.” He chuckles. Then, he frowns and removes his jacket. “It’s hot in here, isn’t it?”
I nod while I take a bite of my sandwich. I offer him my other croissant which he politely declines. While I chew, he rolls up his sleeves to his elbows—no doubt to find some kind of relief from the warmth. He surprises me, however, with a tattoo on his right upper forearm. I chuckle. “See, this is why students forget you’re a teacher sometimes.”
He raises his brows at me. “What do you mean?”
“Nice tat.” I nudge towards his arm.
He glances at it and laughs. “Yeah, I got it last year.”
“What does it mean?”
“In a nutshell… eternal love.”
“That’s kinda romantic.” I move on to my next sandwich.
“What can I say, I’m an English teacher.” He smiles. “Listen, how are you doing with this news of Alexa�
�s death?”
I pause from eating and place my sandwich on the the plate. “It’s kinda hard coz she was a friend, you know? So her death made a big impact. Also, she was just eighteen. That’s hard to take.”
He nods, but I continue as I clench my jaw. “It also pisses me off that someone did that to her and decided when she was gonna leave this earth. That’s fucked up.”
He pats my hand to comfort me, dismissing my clenched fist. I relax. “Well, anyway. It just sucks.”
“I understand completely. Ian, just know that everyone of us, your teachers and administrators, are here to provide the support you need during this tough time. I’m here for you if you need to talk.”
I lean back on my chair. As his eyes search me, I realize that he’s unlike any of my former teachers. None of them gave a damn and bothered to check in on us. “Thanks. I’d like that, but there’s one person who needs it more than I do.”
“Who?”
“Brandon. We’re, uh, no longer friends, but he could still use the support right now.”
He nods, and I’m grateful he didn’t pry because I don’t want to talk about that right now.
“I’ll reach out to him. Don’t worry.”
I shrug and continue to finish my sandwich. We stay at the coffee shop for another half hour. When we finally parted, another cold gust of wind hits me as I open the car door. I curse, getting irritated at the wintry chill. It’s time to go home.
***
I get out of the shower, feeling refreshed after today’s hard work. I put on my black sweatpants and forego the shirt because the heater is on blast. It’s 8 o’clock, and I beeline for my phone. I need to call someone before she goes to bed. She can receive calls now, and I’m happy about that.
“Hello?” She answers in that low, husky voice that heats my body.
“Hey, Godzilla Breath. How’re you doing?”
She laughs on the other end. “So romantic.”
“Every time I call you, ‘baby,’ you always cringe.”
“True,” she said. “It’s weird, Jules.”
“Well, you’re going to have to get used to it, since you’re my girlfriend after all, babe.”
“Hmm. Yeah, that’s weird.”
I chuckle. “You’re the weirdo. You can’t even handle common couple conventions—like calling each other pet names.”
“Relax. I’ll come around…by next year.”
I laugh. “It’s good to hear your voice, though, Joy. It’s like I haven’t heard it in so long.”
She remains quiet on the other end and I remember my little declaration of love two days ago. I hope it didn’t make her uncomfortable. Then, she speaks. “It’s good to hear yours.”
I lay on the bed and place an arm behind my head. It’s hard for her to share intimate thoughts, so this honesty is progress. But I change the subject to cut the girl a break. “Hey, so I heard that Mr. Cunningham has been visiting you.”
“Yeah, he has. It’s nice,” she says. “By the way, any updates on Alexa’s case?”
“No, the final autopsy report hasn’t come out, yet.” I glimpse the balled up paper from Alexa’s box, and I debate whether I should share the contents of that letter. But I remember something else. “Guess what? Remember Athena O’ Connor?”
“How can I forget?”
“I heard they’re reopening the case.”
“Really? Why?”
“Her mom found letters tucked inside an old notebook.”
“What kind of letters?”
“Love letters.”
“Any leads?”
“Not yet. The writer only signs it with an initial.”
“Smart.”
“But there it is. Evidence that was more than what they had before.”
“Good. I’m glad they found something. She deserves justice.”
I nod. “Speaking of letters, I found one written for Alexa, too.”
“For real? What does it say?”
I sigh. Here goes. I explain the contents of those two letters, from the sexy poem to the cheating, and I hear her gasp. I also tell her about what I did to Brandon behind the gym. When I finish, she says nothing for a second until she clears her throat.
“Jules, I’m sorry that happened. That’s really crappy.”
“Yeah, I know. Do you feel uncomfortable with what I did to Brandon?”
“Hell, no! What he did was shitty. Both of them, actually. They both cheated on their partners. I would’ve done the same.”
Silence again. “Hey, Jules?”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t forget what you said to me the other day. And I have all the intention of revisiting it. It’s just that, I’d prefer to do it in person than on the phone.”
I bite my lip. I know I said I’ll wait, but I’m still nervous as I hope she feels the same about me. But I hold my tongue and pray for patience. “Ok. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks.” We stay in comfortable silence until she speaks again. “The letter. Who is it from?”
My eyes widen. Holy shit. In my anger, I forgot to finish reading it. Whoever signed it is a lead to this case. “Hang on. Let me get it.”
I walk over to the corner of the room where it landed. After retrieving it, I return to my bed and read it. The rest wasn’t relevant to us—just more declarations of love. When I reach the end, I return to my phone call with Jo. “Well, it’s nothing we don’t know before. It’s simply signed, ‘B.’”
“That’s ok. But it says a lot, though. That means, sometime last year, Brandon cheated on her with Bianca which brought Alexa to seek comfort from someone else. She ended up having an intense romantic relationship with this person.”
“Then in December,” I said. “She and Brandon rekindled their relationship. I’m willing to bet that the night she disappeared she was trying to break it off with ‘B.’ But he was unwilling to let her go.”
“In his rage, he hurt her and, eventually, killed her,” she said finishing this grim story.
It triggers a memory of Lexie at my front door. I made a choice that I’m now regretting. So, now I’m gonna make things right.
The words floated in my head like a lingering mist, and I’m saddened at the fatal outcome of her attempt.
“Jules, are you ok?” Jo’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I said.
“Athena’s and Alexa’s letters…” she said. “Don’t they sound similar to each other? Love letters signed with only an initial?”
My lips tighten. She acknowledged a nagging suspicion in my head that suggested the same person murdered both girls.
“I mean, I hate to think that we have a serial killer on the loose, but…” she said.
The Night Orchid Page 40
