“Wendy, it’s time to go home.” He didn’t look mad. More tired if anything.
Rising, I accepted the umbrella from him. “I went to see Pam. I needed to know if she killed Pete.”
He placed an arm around my shoulders. “Why don’t we talk about this after you change your clothes and have some dinner?”
My stomach growled. Food would be good. “I’m hungry.”
“Your mother is waiting for us.” He led me to the car and didn’t say another word during the short drive home.
Mom stood behind the screen door. As soon as I went inside, she pulled me into a hug even though I was wet. She didn’t yell or scream.
I took off my hat and pulled back my hair. “I saw Pam. Can I tell you what she told me?”
“Yes, of course.” She gazed past my shoulder toward Dad. “I’ve made homemade chicken soup. Great for a horrible day like this, don’t you think? Go upstairs and take a warm shower and get changed. We can eat and talk.”
“Just like we used to do as a family?”
She gave me a sad look. “Like we still do as a family.”
I nodded and headed upstairs, my wet sneakers squeaking with each step. My parents’ faces were full of concern and grief. It should have made me feel better, but it didn’t. I was empty inside. All my rage and anger had disappeared, replaced with that feeling of loss I couldn’t get rid of, especially when I entered my bedroom and found a picture of Pete and me together lying on top of his pillow.
Chapter Thirty
“Want to sit with us at lunch?” Christina and Susie waited for a response.
I closed my locker. It was my first day back at school. Megan stood off to the side on her cell phone. She looked spooked. I had the feeling she was talking to Pam, who still was absent from school. I wouldn’t be surprised if Megan knew Pam was pregnant. Stupid bitch. If she told Megan, it would be all over the school by the end of the week.
I didn’t tell anyone, even though Christina and Susie kept asking how Pam was and what had happened with her, the cops, and Toby. One rumor was that Pam and Toby had broken up. Toby was missing, also, but Dylan was around. I saw him in the halls and ignored him. I wasn’t ready to speak to him yet.
“Thanks, guys, I really appreciate it, but I’m just not hungry. I’ll sit in the library for a while.” I really wanted to sit outside, but it was pouring rain.
Crossing her arms, Susie pouted. “We’re not going to grill you for information. We don’t want you to be alone after everything that’s happened. I wouldn’t mind going to the library with you, but I’m starving.”
I rolled my eyes, and she placed an arm around my shoulders. Christina grabbed my arm, pushing me toward the cafeteria. Megan followed, still talking on her cell. I held back a retort even as I glared at her. I expected Megan to give me the finger or snarl at me, but she played with her new nose piercing.
When we entered the cafeteria, I waited for everyone to stop what they were doing and watch me. No one did. They’d gone on with their lives like nothing was wrong. I could barely function, but I was lucky enough to have the support of the two girls next to me.
“Let’s sit in the corner near the window. I can tell you all the gossip you missed,” Susie said and picked up a tray.
“I think I’ve had enough gossip to last me a lifetime.”
She gave me a pat and joined the food line with Megan. Christina walked next to me.
“When do you have to go back to the police station?” she asked in a low whisper while we searched for an empty table. I’d told her briefly about giving my DNA because she’d been brave enough to ask.
“Tomorrow after school. I just want it done and over with.” After our family meeting last night, we’d discussed it and thought it best to get it out of the way.
“Wendy, I’m so sorry. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love.” Christina’s younger brother had died from a brain aneurism a few years ago. “Losing someone to an illness isn’t as horrible as murder, but it’s still tough. If you need to talk about anything at all, with no judgment, you can talk to me.”
This surprised me. I’d always thought Christina was closer to Pam. She pulled out her lunch, and my stomach growled.
“I think I’ll get something to munch on.”
She gave me a bright smile. “Great.”
As I passed a table, someone called out my name. It was Kyle. He was with a group of people from his class. Alice sat next to him.
“Hey, guys,” I said to Kyle and Alice, and nodded to those I didn’t recognize.
Kyle stood. “Want to sit with us?”
Everyone acted so nice, as if they really did care about Pete. “Thanks for asking. Actually, I’m over in the corner, sitting with some friends. If you have time, stop over.”
“I would like that.” He nodded, and he began to sit down but paused. “Wendy, I’m sorry about—”
I held up my hands. If he said Pete’s name, I would start crying. “Please, there’s no need. We’ll talk later, okay?”
Nodding, he sat down and grabbed Alice’s hand. She gave me a small smile. I walked away feeling a little better. It was good to see Kyle had found his place. I’d like to think it was because of Pete’s influence.
I decided on a wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich, bag of chips, and bottle of water. As I went to get some napkins, someone rushed by, causing me to stumble into another person. I found my balance and started to apologize, but jolted when I faced Anthony.
I jumped away from him, and everything I held fell to the floor. The sound of my water bottle hitting the tile echoed in my ears. Anthony made no move to help me pick up my things, and I didn’t either. Conner stood behind him. He placed a hand on Anthony’s back, his fingers trembling, but Anthony pushed him away.
“You piece of shit.” I grabbed him by the front of the shirt and slapped him hard across the face. “How can you stand here in front of me when you’re the one who killed him?” I yelled and pounded on his chest.
The whole room went silent, and someone called for a teacher. I was in such a rage that I slapped him across the face again. That’s when he pushed me away, and I slammed into a table. I caught myself then ran toward him. But someone dragged me away. I struggled, my feet scraping the floor.
I screamed curses at Anthony, who was led out of the room by Conner and another one of their friends. I tried jerking free from the person who held me, but they were too strong and, lifting me off my feet in a type of football hold, carried me out of the cafeteria. My hair fell around my face while I continued yelling.
“Shut up! Do you want to get us in more trouble than we already are?” Dylan said in a low voice.
The next thing I knew, we were outside the school. He pressed me against the brick wall. The rain poured around us, and I stopped fighting him—seeing as he had an arm pressed against my chest.
“Dylan.”
He pulled me into a hug and held me close. My tears and the cool raindrops fell down my face.
***
“Here, drink this.” Dylan handed me a water bottle.
I chugged it then dried my hair off with a towel. After I’d calmed down, he brought me to the auditorium. We sat on the bleachers with towels we’d grabbed from one of the locker rooms. It was only the two of us, and we were both soaked through.
“Thanks.” I put the cap on the bottle and spun it in between my legs. I straddled one of the benches while he did the same and faced me.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” He pushed back his hair. “I called your house, but your mom said you couldn’t talk.”
“I didn’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Even me?” He gave me a sad expression.
I finished wiping my face and threw the towel on the floor. “I guess I’m gonna have to go home and get changed.”
“You’re going to have to see Dibley first.”
“First time I’ve been sent to the principal’s office.” I shrugged. “I don’t care.”
He wiped a finger down the side of my cheek where some water had dripped from my wet hair. “Dibley will go easy on you. He knows what you’ve been through this past week.”
“Why were you at the police station with your father and a lawyer?” I didn’t want to beat around the bush.
He didn’t seem nervous by my question. “That detective guy, Donnelly, wanted to ask me more questions about Saturday night. Needed to make sure my alibi was rock solid.”
“Can you tell me what your alibi is?”
He raised his eyebrows in shock. “You think I killed Preiss?”
Out of everyone who could’ve killed Pete, I didn’t think Dylan had. He had nothing to gain. To think he wanted to get Pete out of the way in order to have a shot at me was selfish thinking on my part.
“No, I don’t think you did.”
He rubbed his palms on his jeans. “After you left with Pete, Toby was really pissed. He looked like he wanted to kill somebody. He knew Pam lied because he knows…knew Pete would never do anything with her. He made sure to tell me that. Pam and Anthony had disappeared. I didn’t want to wait around any longer because that cop kept eyeing us. I told Toby he could crash at my house. I didn’t want him to drive his car because he’d had a few beers, but he wouldn’t listen. I made sure to follow behind him in my car. We got to my house around eleven. My dad saw how upset Toby was and they talked. I think it was after midnight when we went to bed. Toby fell asleep on the couch, and I was so beat I went up to my bedroom. Before you ask, I know Toby didn’t move from the couch because my dad has insomnia and didn’t go to sleep until after three. I can promise you Toby and I didn’t kill Pete.” He held my hand in a tight grip and appeared upset.
“I believe you, Dylan. I can barely stop from losing it, knowing someone close to us might have killed Pete. His murder was so horrible…the person—” I covered my mouth with a shaking hand. My hands kept doing that. I didn’t think they would ever stop.
He pulled me into his embrace, much like he’d done outside in the rain. I laid my face against his shoulder, not minding his damp T-shirt. I held back my tears, and he kissed the top of my head and moved down to place one on my forehead.
“Better now?” His face leaned in close.
“Yes.” I needed to ask him another important question, but then he pressed his mouth to mine. It took me a second to realize what he’d just done. As I pushed him away, I heard someone clearing their throat. We separated, and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. How dare he take advantage of me!
“Mr. Mayone and Miss Wyman, I’ve been searching all over for you. Please come to my office.” A frowning Principal Dibley stood near the doors.
Dibley turned away. I got up and pushed Dylan so hard he slid off the bleacher.
“You…you.” I shook in anger.
He gave me a smile that showed his near-perfect dimples. “You don’t have to suffer alone. I’m just comforting you.”
I stomped away in my squeaky, water-logged shoes to where Dibley waited for us by the exit door. I clenched my jaw so hard a shooting pain zipped up the side of my head. Dylan might be innocent of murder, but he was very much an opportunist.
To think I almost fell for his tactics again. Pete would’ve been so upset. For the first time in days, I didn’t feel Pete’s presence. I didn’t like it.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dylan was given a ten minute lecture and then left. Dibley talked to me for an hour. He was sympathetic but recommended I take a few more days off to make sure my rage was under control. It sounded like a suspension.
He probably was right because going back to school only a few days after my boyfriend’s murder wasn’t the best for me emotionally.
Mom came to pick me up and gazed at me with such sadness I began to cry again. She drove me home without saying a word.
I took a hot shower and put on my school sweatshirt and sweatpants. Every time I wore them, I thought of Pete wearing his. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. I sat at the kitchen table, eating minestrone soup, or rather swirled it around with a spoon.
She sat next to me holding a cup of coffee. “I think you should go stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a few days, away from everything that’s happened here.”
“You want me to go down to the shore in the middle of winter? Talk about depressing.” I cut up a kidney bean, letting it float along the edge of the bowl.
“What you’re going through is very hard. If I were in your shoes, I would feel the same way. Your grandparents would love to see you. The ocean air will do you good.”
“Will it do Pete good when he’s buried ten feet under? He’ll never see the beach again.” I pushed my bowl away, and it splattered on the table.
“Wendy,” she said in a sharp voice, and grabbed some paper towels. She stopped at the counter, staring down at me. “Tomorrow, after we go to the police station, we’ll talk to the detective and tell him you need to take a few days to get away.”
“Mom, that will make me look guilty. They think I killed Pete! I’m the only one with no alibi. God help me if my DNA is found at the boathouse. Cripes.” I dropped my head into my arms on the table.
“Listen to me. You’re not guilty. Everyone who cares about you knows that. We just have to believe the killer will be caught—”
“What if the killer is never caught?” I lifted my head and placed my chin on my palm. I used my spoon to move a kidney bean and some noodles across the table.
“Stop that.” Mom came over and cleaned up my mess.
“You want me to go away? For how long? What about Pete’s wake and funeral? You don’t want me to be here for it?”
“I don’t know, Wendy. I just want you to get better.”
“Get better? You make it sound like I have a sickness! My best friend, the boy I loved more than anything in the world was killed and his body dumped in a lake. What the hell do you think I should do?”
She stood there for a second then, out of the blue, she started to cry. The only time I’ve ever seen her so upset was when we watched sad movies.
“Oh, Mom.” I jumped up and hugged her. She wrapped her arms around me, and we rocked, comforting each other.
“I’m so afraid I could lose you. When I think of Pete, I have visions of you, lying on the ground covered in blood or your body floating in the lake.”
“That won’t happen. Who would want to hurt me?”
She wiped her eyes with the paper towel. “Who would want to hurt Pete?”
I hugged my waist as a chill spread through the room. A flash of lightning flickered outside the window followed by a boom of thunder. That was the main question to be answered. Who would want to hurt Pete? If I figured that out, then I would know who murdered him.
***
I sat in the living room, wrapped in a big baby-blue-colored blanket with a pad and pen on my lap. Mom and Dad were upstairs in their room sleeping. It was late, after eleven. I wasn’t tired. For once, I didn’t find sanctuary in my bedroom. The memories there were too strong.
The storm continued outside, and the house shook every so often from the pounding rain and thunder.
The television had been muted, and I scribbled notes on the pad. I made columns with names of each suspect and why they would want to kill Pete. I could only come up with four main suspects—Anthony, Pam, Dylan, and Toby. I even wrote Susie, Christina, Megan, and Conner on the side as distant possibilities.
I shook my head. It was useless. I crossed out the names, starting with Conner’s.
Upstairs, a loud bang sounded.
I jumped and listened carefully. All was silent. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to see if either Mom or Dad came out of their bedroom. Their door didn’t open. I guess they dropped something, or maybe something fell off their dresser.
Crap! I forgot to close my window in my bedroom. I turned off the television and all the lights and made sure the doors were locked. Rushing upstairs, I opened my bedroom door. My wi
ndow stood wide open, and the rain poured in.
It was beyond freezing. I closed the window and locked it. It was so cold in my room I could see my breath and rubbed my arms. The floor under the window had a puddle. If I didn’t clean it up, the floor would get warped and water would drip down to the room below.
Great, just one more thing that needed to go wrong.
I went to the pantry and grabbed some towels. I knelt, wiping away the mess, and looked around to see if something heavy had fallen in my room to make such a noise. I didn’t have anything that would make that type of sound. After I did a final swipe, I noticed something strange.
Pete’s pillow lay on the floor. The picture of us that I’d slept with the past few days lay under my bed. How had it gotten there?
Sighing, I threw the pillow onto the bed and pulled up the sheet. It felt like someone had just punched me in the stomach. The picture lay in the middle of the floor, leaning against a recognizable black-covered book. I didn’t own any book like that. The one he gave me for New Year’s Eve was still in a box in my closet.
I reached under the bed and pulled out the photo and the journal. I sat on the floor and wiped the dust bunnies away from the picture frame and did something very silly. I placed a kiss against Pete’s face.
“Thank you,” I whispered and tapped my locket. A sound of thunder was the only response.
I set the picture on my bed and placed the dusty journal on my lap. Tears came to my eyes. In big letters painted in white was the name Peter M. Preiss.
I found his missing journal.
He must have kept his journal here for safe keeping, knowing I wouldn’t search for it under my bed. Or maybe he just forgot to take it with him the last time.
My hands shook. I wanted to go right to the last page and read. I always flipped first to the last page of any book I read. But, with this, I would start at the beginning. I said a silent prayer, hoping the sacred text not meant for my eyes would hold all the answers I needed to know who killed him. This was my last resort.
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