Collide Series Box Set

by J. C. Hannigan

  "Yeah…sorry, Mr. Bentley. We're taking Jenna home…she's…sick," I answered awkwardly. Iain studied Jenna for a moment. She avoided his gaze, frowning at the floor.

  "Very well. Make sure you get passes from the principal’s office," Iain instructed, continuing on his way.

  "We'll get them later." Jake shrugged, unfazed. Jenna was still looking at me curiously. I avoided her gaze and kept walking toward the parking lot doors, knowing they were behind me.

  I found Jenna's car easily enough. Jake parked on the other side of the lot, so we met up at Jenna's house as planned. I drove slower, allowing them time to talk and maybe get to know each other. I wasn't intending on playing matchmaker, but I did think it was good for Jenna to be around Jake. He was sweet, funny, and caring. Sure, he sold pot to high school students and smoked it, but that wasn't really a bad thing. I mean, there were definitely worse character traits in a person.

  By the time Jake and I returned to school, we were greeted by crazy amount of gossip. Rumors were spreading. I hadn't realized that the local paper had released a story about the sexual assault charges that were pressed against Andrew, but they had. They didn't release Jenna's name, but the school would figure it out soon. Especially with Callie fuelling the rumors. She knew exactly who had pressed charges; Andrew had likely told her.

  As the weeks passed by, the town's interest in the upcoming trial grew. I heard the gossip when I served coffee to the towns folk at the diner. I heard the gossip in the hallways. The trial was all everyone could talk about. I felt like if I heard one more person talking about the trial, my brain would explode.

  Danielle was the only one who remained uncharacteristically silent and solemn as we waited tables. I knew she was listening, hearing it all.

  "That sweet Andrew couldn't have done that," an elderly lady was tittering to her friend, sipping a tea I'd brought her. "He shovels my driveway, that one, every winter all winter long!"

  "Well, he does…quite regularly!" I interrupted rudely, unable to stop myself. Both elderly ladies stared at me, mouths agape, and the entire diner seemed to pause, ears tuned to the three of us. "I mean, do you want some more hot water for your tea?" I asked, my voice dripping with false sweetness. The ladies looked back and forth from me to each other and nodded, unsure of what to do. I filled their tea pots up with more boiling water and carefully put it down on their table before stalking off to the cash. I could feel their eyes on me as I stood with my back to them and the rest of the diner.

  The trial was still several weeks away. I rubbed my temples, trying to ease the tension headache I seemed to have constantly since the news broke. Thompson had warned us all of the implications, but I hadn't expected…well, this. Neither had Jenna. I knew she was panicked about it, spending more and more time at home. She had all but stopped going to school. I would stop in after school with Jake to drop her homework off to her. I knew it wasn't just the fear of being discovered that kept her home. Her belly had grown in the past weeks, and now there was no denying that she was pregnant.

  "Hey, are you okay?" Danielle asked from behind the counter. She was leaning forward, putting a gentle hand on my forearm to get my attention.

  "Yeah, sorry," I muttered, sighing. "I just can't take this 'Andrew's such a saint' bullshit."

  "I know." Danielle frowned, looking back at the masses of people that had finally gone back to their meals. Only the two elderly ladies sipping tea were staring openly at me, conversing with each other out of the corner of their lips.

  "Did you think about…what we talked about?" I asked, looking out the door.

  "Yeah." Danielle took a deep breath. "I will. I'll call that lawyer guy tomorrow."

  I nodded, unable to think of anything else to say. I felt terrible asking Danielle to relive the trauma her friend had gone through, and her friend's death, but I really felt what she had to say would make a difference.

  The diner bell chimed and two figures walked in, letting brisk late January wind nip at my exposed skin. Goosebumps arose as a hush fell over the diner. Before I even turned to look, I knew who was there. I stiffened, watching Carl Cooper and his partner, Officer Reid, walk to the back of my section.

  "Fuck," I muttered, grabbing a menu. The last thing I wanted to do was serve Carl Cooper, or any of the Coopers for that matter. Begrudgingly, I walked toward the back and dropped the menus on their table. They were still dressed in their uniforms, their navy blue winter patrol coats thick with snow. Some of it fell onto my shoes as Carl shrugged out of his coat.

  "Can I get you anything to drink?" I asked stiffly. I was having a lot of difficulty keeping my tone pleasant.

  "Yes, you can," Carl Cooper answered, exchanging an amused look with Officer Reid. "We'll both have coffees."

  I nodded, heading to grab them coffee. I hadn't realized that almost every eye in the diner was on the two policemen that had come in, but then, why wouldn't they be staring? They'd spent the majority of the morning talking about the breaking news of the charges pressed against Andrew.

  Carl Cooper also ordered a plate of bacon and eggs. He ate slowly, probably extremely aware of the fact that all eyes were still on his turned back. When he and his partner got up to leave, Carl finally turned around to face the diner at large. Everyone fell silent as his gaze penetrated through every single conversation.

  "Many of you have probably heard about the ridiculous charges pressed against my son." His voice was quiet, yet full of authority. He had every single person's attention, even those in the back kitchen. "I just wanted to say that those charges are false, brought on by a sad little girl seeking attention and validation for her mistakes. I have no doubt that these charges will be dropped." He said this last part while looking directly at me. I glared hotly back. Doubtful.

  Unfortunately, I still had to ring in the egotistic Chief of Police's order. He smiled at me, a smile that coiled the nerves in my stomach, and handed me a wad of bills.

  "Take care, Ms. Jones," he said, giving me a look that chilled me to the bone. My hand trembled against my will as I accepted his money and handed him his change.

  "You too, Chief," I said, my voice as strong as I could make it. He chuckled, giving me a firm look that said, watch your tone.

  As soon as the diner door closed behind Officer Reid, everyone started talking. I couldn't hear a single thing; their voices faded into a buzz. I brushed back a strand of my hair that had fallen from my ponytail, trying to steady my breathing. It didn't matter what anybody said; the truth would come out.

  "Are you okay?" Danielle asked, her voice full of concern.

  "Yeah, I'm…fine. I just…"

  "It's okay. Head out," Danielle said, motioning to the door. "Trixie will be here in less than twenty minutes. I'll tell her you weren't feeling well."

  "Okay." I nodded. Quickly, I went into the staff room and grabbed my jacket and bag, barely uttering a good bye to the kitchen guys.

  I knew exactly where I was headed. I pulled my hood up, looking cautiously around me. There were plenty of people around, heading into the diner and leaving it, but nobody was paying me any attention and there were no police cars nearby. I walked as quickly as my legs would carry me, not even pausing to knock on Iain's door. I just walked straight in and kicked off my boots.

  Iain was in the living room, a bunch of papers spread out in front of him. He looked like he was in the middle of marking assignments.

  "Whoa, hey," he said, leaning back into the couch and watching me walk into the living room. "I wasn't expecting you until after dinner."

  "I know, I bailed on my shift," I said, leaning against the doorway. "We had visitors at the diner. Carl Cooper and his partner."

  "Not surprising. I saw the paper." Iain sighed, nodding toward the local paper on the coffee table in front of him. The front page headline read Chief of Police's Son Charged with Alleged Sexual Assault.

  "Nobody knows that it's Jenna who's charging him, right?" I asked, grabbing the paper. I'd seen it on several cu
stomers' tables, but I hadn't been able to get my hands on it to read it yet.

  "No, her name is protected…right now," Iain answered, running a hand through his hair in a distracting manner.

  "Right now?" I pressed, my eyes widening.

  "The details will leak eventually. They always do during big profile cases."

  "This is a big profile case?"

  "Yeah, it involves a possible cover up by the Chief of Police. It will definitely be high profile," Iain said patiently. Of course, I knew that…sort of. I'd seen enough CSI shows to kind of put that together, but I hadn't been thinking about that the past few weeks. I'd just been thinking about my statement and what I was going to say.

  "Relax, Harlow," Iain finally said, seeing me stressing and worrying about it. "She's safe."

  The town gossip increased in the weeks that led up to the trial. Iain was right; the case had everybody's attention. Anywhere I went, I heard about the scandal. Most of the townspeople were torn: many of them stood by the Coopers with unwavering support, but more and more were questioning Carl Cooper's morals and ethics. The department had begun an internal investigation on Carl Cooper. I wasn't sure what they would find; I didn't know how good Carl was at covering up his tracks. The whole thing had me on edge.

  It was late one Sunday night, three days before the trial was set to begin, and I was working a shift at the diner. Danielle was working alongside me, although the place was nearly dead.

  "Go home," I told her, motioning to the door with my head. "I've got it from here."

  "But…" Danielle hesitated, looking at me with concern.

  "I'll be fine," I said firmly. "Go home to that little boy of yours."

  Danielle chewed on her lip, clearly conflicted. I knew she was hesitant to leave me alone in light of the chaos of the trial. It wasn't like I was being harassed. In fact, I hadn't heard or seen the Coopers since Carl's grand speech in the diner a few weeks before.

  "Seriously, I'm fine." I rolled my eyes. "Besides, Ryan's here."

  Danielle gave me a look. After the accident, Danielle and Ryan started seeing each other. Their relationship was still new, still sweet and innocent. Danielle was taking her time, and Ryan was just happy to be with her after months of pining for her.

  "I'm sure we'll be fine," I said. "Ryan's good now." It'd been months since we'd gotten jumped outside of the diner, and Ryan was better. He'd actually gotten a gym membership and started working out, taking self-defense courses. He'd beefed out a little in the muscle department, and was determined to never let anyone get him on the ground again.

  Danielle pursed her lips, considering. Ryan came out of the kitchen with a tray of clean utensils.

  "Ryan, tell Danielle to go home, that we'll be alright," I demanded, rolling my eyes toward her. Bemused, Ryan set the tray down and leaned over the counter. He smiled at her.

  "Babe, we'll be fine," he said reassuringly. He looked ecstatic that she was worried about him, that she cared. He showed off a muscle, flexing it for her. "See? All good here."

  "Alright, alright! Put the gun show away." Danielle laughed. I could tell she wasn't quite sure still, but I shoved her coat and bag at her anyway.

  "Just go," I said. "No sense in both of us being here."

  "Alright, I'm going…" Danielle said, sliding into her coat. She waved at Ryan, mouthing for him to call her later. He nodded, heading back into the kitchen with bins full of dirty dishes.

  I watched as Danielle left. I locked the door behind her quickly, after all…it was after hours and the diner was deader than dead—it had been for the past hour or so. I began my closing prep. I vacuumed the floors, cashed out the till while Ryan waited, laying down in an empty booth across from me.

  "How's Danielle doing, really?" I asked him, looking up briefly.

  "She's…good, I guess," Ryan said, still lying in the booth. "She's distracted with this whole trial thing. I think it's dredging up bad memories."

  "No kidding." I sighed, leaning back in the chair I was sitting in. "Did you know Rachel?"

  "Kind of." Ryan shrugged. "It's a small town. Everyone kind of knows everyone else. Plus she'd come in with some of their mutual friends when Danielle was working the breakfast shift. She also attempted working here. Didn't last long, she was the worst hostess ever."

  I was silent, thoughtful. Unable to think of a reply, I headed to the office to drop off the cash out. I slid into my coat as I walked back out to the dining area. Ryan was standing, waiting by the back door. I quickly punched in the lock code while Ryan waited outside. I made sure the door was locked, then adjusted my jacket collar. The February air was sharp and chilly, slicing at my exposed skin like tiny razors.

  I noticed that Ryan was staring toward the parking lot with a look of mounting concern and anxiety on his face. "What's your deal?" I asked. He was tense, his fists clenched at his sides as if he was awaiting a fight. I followed his gaze, noticing the heavy-set man walking toward us with a folder. His heavy coat and hat obscured his facial features, and I didn't recognize him at all.

  "What do you want, man?" he called out, trying to keep his voice from shaking. I knew he was having flash backs to the last time someone approached the two of us after work. I was too.

  "Ms. Jones?" the man asked, approaching us and ignoring Ryan.

  "Yes…"

  "This is for you," he shoved the folder at me and started walking in the other direction. I clenched it in my hands, unsure of what to do.

  "What was that about?" Ryan demanded, staring at the folder with open curiosity.

  "I don't know," I answered honestly. I didn't know what was in the folder, but I knew that it couldn't be good. What good news was delivered by an unfamiliar, heavy-set man in an abandoned parking lot late at night? None.

  I knew that Ryan wanted me to open the folder, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The sticky, horrible feeling I had in the pit of my stomach was mounting.

  "I'll be alright," I told him, motioning for him to go on without me.

  "Don't be ridiculous." Ryan frowned. "That? Was creepy. I'm walking you home. Who knows where that guy went?"

  "I just want to be alone, okay?" I said somewhat harshly. The surprised and hurt look on Ryan's face made me feel guilty, but it couldn't be helped.

  "If you're sure…"

  "I'm sure," I snapped. "I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself."

  "I don't doubt that," Ryan remarked, frowning again, taking offence to my words although I hadn't meant it that way. "Whatever…your choice," he added before walking in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go. I watched him walk for a bit, feeling guilty, then I quickly headed to Iain's.

  Iain's porch light was still on when I came up to his house. I walked inside blindly, my fingers numb from the cold and from clenching the brown envelope so tightly.

  "Harlow?" Iain called out from upstairs when I kicked the door shut behind me. I didn't answer; I could scarcely hear him as my shaky hands opened the envelope. I gasped, seeing the contents inside, and dropped the whole thing. Pictures floated to the ground absurdly slow. Distantly, I heard Iain saying something to me as he ran down the stairs. I couldn't truly hear him though, and I couldn't form a single worded reply. My words were frozen in my throat, just as the stunned expression was frozen on my face as I stared down at the photos of Iain and me together. Photos neither of us had taken. I fell back against the door, sliding down to the ground just as Iain reached my side. He picked up one of the photos, stared at it for a moment, and swore.

  He pulled me toward him, hard against his chest, and held me close. "It's going to be okay, Harlow."

  "No, it's not," I whispered. I felt like crying, but no tears would come. My heart was pounding. I knew what this meant. I'd seen enough law dramas to know when I was being blackmailed. I knew who it was from too, although the folder hadn't come with any words or names at all.

  He didn't argue; he just held me for what seemed like hours. I couldn't move. I was rigid, trying to t
hink my way out of this messy situation. My mind was whirling, and all I could think about was quietly backing out of the trial and getting the hell away from this town, and Iain, before I screwed everything up for him…and before he ended up in jail.

  "Should I—"

  "Don't go there." Iain sighed, cutting me off before I even had a chance to finish my sentence. "You need to go to the trial. You need to speak about what you saw, and what happened that night. It's imperative that you do."

  "But what about you?" I asked, my brows knitting together in frustration and concern.

  "Don't worry about me." Iain tipped my chin up, looking straight into my eyes. "This is a tactic to try and get you to hush up. What non-guilty party spies on people to get dirt on them to have them back out?"

  "I don't think that matters…" I hesitated, still frowning. "You could still get arrested."

  Iain bit his lip, looking at the wall just behind my head. He knew he couldn't argue with that. He knew the possibility was there, and it was real.

  I looked away too, feeling the burn of tears in my eyes. I should have listened to Mom. I should have walked away. I shouldn't have remained involved with Iain, especially when all this court shit loomed. A part of me wanted to shove away from Iain's embrace and flee from his house, but a bigger part kept me rooted. I didn't want to lose what we had. I rested my forehead on his and allowed the tears fall, shaking as silent sobs escaped.

  * * *

  Eventually, Iain scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the couch. I was still wearing my jacket and boots. He left them on, not caring that the snow was melting from my shoes onto his living room floor. He made me tea—his go-to calming method—and held it out to me. I shook my head; the mere thought of swallowing anything made me want to vomit. My nerves were so frazzled.

  "Iain…we need to do something," I said, my voice shaking.