by Riley Scott
“Thank you and thank you for being a good friend to my girl,” he said nodding, that glint of a father’s knowing in his eyes. She had no way of knowing what—if anything—she had just confessed to Bill, but she wanted him to take her up on the offer if he needed anything.
Giving in to her good southern raising, she leaned in and gave him another hug. “You take care and remember I’m here if y’all need anything.”
He nodded and she turned to go. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw into the kitchen and glimpsed broken glass on the floor. Her heart raced. She couldn’t be here any longer, at least not while they were still cleaning things up. She’d drive back by later, but now it was still too fresh.
She hit her car at a run and locked herself inside as though the monsters that now existed in her world could be kept at bay with the simple click of a lock.
There were still no answers, but this was not her time to be Nancy Drew. She needed to remember, to mourn in solitude, as did those who loved Chloe the most.
Chapter Four
Shuffling papers, clicking keys, occasional sighs, and the hum of fluorescent lights served as the soundtrack for Dominique Velez’s day. It was at least peaceful, if not a bit eerie, given the circumstances that had caused them all to work late tonight. There had been no bickering from her staff and no questions at all. This was important and they all knew that.
At Texans for Equality, they stood together and they stood for those who had no voice. If that meant extra hours—especially on a night like tonight, following a devastating crime on one of their own—that’s what it meant.
As the news had poured in throughout the day, she had grown sicker to her stomach, to the point to where she realized that by seven o’clock in the evening, she had eaten nothing all day long.
Hate crime. The words seemed to leap off the page and resonate within her. She shuddered, imagining someone brutally murdered simply for being who they were. But that’s exactly what had happened in the sleepy little Bible Belt town of Knell. It was over an hour away, but it felt like it had happened in her backyard—to someone just like her.
It was bigger than that though. It was the life of Chloe Stanton stamped out like she didn’t even matter. It was the horrific, small-minded culture that shaped murderers who think it’s okay to discriminate and commit violence just because someone is different.
Locals quoted in the news story said it was being sensationalized, since they all viewed Chloe as one of them. The local news called it a brutal murder. National news sources, however, were alleging something more sinister, a murder based on sexual orientation. She re-read the stories, noting there were possible suspects in questioning, but she felt it in her heart she already knew the way this had gone down. She wanted to cry as she read the words, but she couldn’t stop reading them. Over and over, she read Chloe’s story. But that wasn’t enough.
She was going to take action. If Knell needed a lesson in equality, she was going to teach it. Furthermore, if there were LGBT kids in those schools who needed counseling, she was the right one for the job.
“I’m packing a bag and going,” she said, as her assistant walked by her office. “I’m heading out first thing in the morning. I’ll stay for a couple of days, just until I see if there’s anything we can do to lessen this burden.”
“You’re the boss,” Jason said nodding in agreement. He stopped for a minute and pulled up a seat by her desk.
“What is it?” she asked, looking up from her notes.
He tapped his foot and shook his head, scratching his chin and looking up at the ceiling as he searched for the words. “I just thought…stupidly thought we were past this, I guess,” he said, leveling his gaze. “I mean, I know hatred always exists, but I thought we were working on bigger and better things, instead of trudging back through things that should have stopped decades ago.”
Dominique’s head throbbed. She glanced down at the floor and let out a deep breath. “You’re echoing what I’ve been thinking all day,” she assured him. “But the thing is we’re not past it. The world is still as fucked up as it’s always been, and as things go, it seems to be getting worse around here, rather than better.”
He grimaced, and she reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “Do you remember what we talked about after the marriage ruling?” Tightlipped, he nodded. “Good.” She took another deep breath. “It’s still the same. Yes, we have marriage, and we are so excited to have jumped that hurdle, but that’s not all we are working for. Our fight isn’t just for equality under the law. Our fight stretches far beyond that to ensuring society sees us as equals. There are still people who think we’re second-class citizens, that we’re sick and perverted, that we can be cured, that we are somehow less human and less deserving of our lives than they are. For decades, our fellow LGBTQ community members have fought the most difficult fights, but it is our job to continue the fight into today’s society, to make sure that things are better for future generations. They did it for us, and it’s our turn.”
“I know,” he said, holding up his hands. “I know what we’re working for and why. I know that. I just feel discouraged.”
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent. I know you know that as well as I do. I know they’re the ones who need to hear that, not you. It’s just difficult right now, and my head is pretty jumbled. I feel discouraged too. We lost one of our own. That town lost one of their own. And the only thing we can do now is remind them how and why this happens to make sure it doesn’t happen again. In the meantime, you go home and get some rest. The team will need you strong here while I’m gone, so go take care of yourself first.”
He nodded, spinning the chair around and standing up. “Good luck,” he said before walking back to his desk.
They both knew she was going to need more than luck.
After finishing a few last-minute tasks and setting an out-of-office reply on her email, Dominique gathered her things. Some days her job took its toll on her sanity. Today was one of those days.
Her head and her heart hurt in equal measure. She wanted nothing more than to slip into a bubble bath, turn on some slow jazz music, and drink a glass of wine, letting the pain and confusion of the day slip off into oblivion. But that would not do today. That wouldn’t get anything accomplished. Today and the days that would follow would be days of educating, helping, counseling, and taking a stand—for Chloe Stanton and for everyone just like her. She had a bag to pack and places to be.
* * *
Rolling down the windows, Dominique breathed in the morning air and took in the scent of the wild bluebonnets that dotted the surrounding landscapes. It was certainly more peaceful out here on this simple two-lane road leading into the middle of nowhere. At least that’s the illusion it gave. But Dominique had seen enough of small towns in Texas to know that peace often only existed for those who were the same and who followed the guidelines and expectations laid out before them.
Most were expected to be married to their high school sweetheart in heteronormative bliss by the age of twenty-one, popping out babies left and right and settling in the same town their mama and daddy did before them.
Despite the strange mix of emotions creating a jittery persona within her, she drove on, trying to smell the flowers along the way just as much as she was trying to figure out why someone like Chloe Stanton would want to make this small-minded town her home. Surely she had options to go somewhere safer.
But therein lay the problem. Everywhere should be safer.
Anger welling within her, she forced herself to breathe. As much as she tried not to harbor preconceived hatred for this place, she couldn’t.
Up in the distance, she caught sight of an excessively large sign: “Welcome to Knell, Texas, home of the friendliest folks you’ll ever meet. Pop. 12,003.”
“Twelve thousand and two,” she corrected with a sad shake of her head. “And certainly not all friendly folks.”
Driving further into town, she
took note of everything she saw. An old country store, a gas station, a total of three stoplights and several front porches filled with people clad in simple, country attire. This place truly could have passed for a Wild West movie set. She glanced down at her skinny jeans and silky red tank top and cast her eyes across the dash of her Prius. Raising an eyebrow, she looked at her dark skin in the rearview mirror. She chuckled, despite the serious nature of her visit. White, hetero, and country were the norms around here. She was anything but all three. There was little doubt she was going to stick out like a sore thumb in Knell. But maybe that’s what they needed—a little more diversity.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she wheeled her car into the first coffee shop she saw—probably the only coffee shop in town, judging by what she had already seen of the area. She would have to make her presence known to the locals, let the city officials know she was available, and also post video blogs to get the message out to supporters. She knew she would need coffee to navigate this mess.
The wooden sign adorned with brightly colored flowers and the name carved into the wood brought back a sense of nostalgia for times past. Maybe she could interact with locals a bit at Amy’s Place and get a feel for the people.
She swung the door open and was instantly greeted by a polite woman around her age behind the counter. She stared, noting the woman’s almost cat-like, light green eyes. Dominique studied her, the bags underneath her eyes. Still those eyes. She had to bet they sparkled when the woman was happy, and maybe even held hints of gold at the center. What a sight that would be, instead of tired and sad—exhausted and devastated, she corrected herself, noting the hollow stare. “Good morning and welcome,” the woman said, offering her a smile even though her lips were too tightly pulled back.
“Thank you.” She nodded as she stepped inside.
She was greeted by concerned and curious eyes from the table of three elderly women in the corner. She smiled at them and waved, stepping up and ignoring their whispers as she approached the tall brunette behind the counter.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
Dominique looked down at her nametag. Amelia. “Are you Amy?” Dominique asked, needing more than coffee to fuel her day’s start.
“That’s me, and this is my place,” she said, letting out a laugh that sounded a little too sharp. Dominique couldn’t help but wonder if it was the fact that she was an outsider or the fact that this woman was affected by what had happened around here. Regardless, her smile was plainly a façade.
“It’s a beautiful place,” Dominique said.
“Where are you from?” Amelia asked, finally taking a breath and appearing slightly more at ease.
“I’m from Austin. Just came down here to lend my services and my voice to what happened, and see if I could help anyone out.”
Amelia nodded but the lines in her forehead deepened in obvious concern. “Services?”
“Counseling, insight, whatever people may need.”
“You’re a counselor?”
“In a former life. Now I’m an Executive Director for a non-profit,” she waved her hand in the air, using her edited response, not wanting to tip this kind woman off just yet. “But I still have my background and still interact with communities who have gone through a horrific situation like the one that played out here.”
Amelia balled her hands into fists, and the rate of her breathing increased. She glanced down at the floor for a moment, gulped, and looked back up at Dominique. “In that case, thank you for being here. I know a lot of people are having a rough time.” Amelia cleared her throat. “What can I get you in the way of coffee?”
Dominique listened to her sweet Texas drawl and wanted to hug the woman. She had labored over the phrase “a lot of people.” Dominique could read between those lines, just as she could see past the fake smile she was being offered. Amelia was hurting as well. Her green eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Even in her emotional trauma, she was strikingly beautiful, and Dominique felt drawn to comfort her. The weight of Amelia’s silence hung in the air between them, almost palpable. She wanted to break down those walls and let Amelia express what she was truly feeling. She wanted to know the depths behind those eyes, to hear genuine words spoken without fear or doubt.
Amelia leaned forward, silently reminding Dominique that she still hadn’t ordered.
“I’m sorry,” Dominique said, clearing her throat with hopes of refocusing her thoughts. “It’s been a long day for me, too.” She glanced up at the menu for the first time and rattled off the first thing she saw written on the chalkboard. In a daze, wondering what kept Amelia so closed off, she swiped her card and waited while Amelia whipped up whatever she had ordered.
As she accepted her coffee, she lowered her voice. “If you know of anyone who might need to talk or might need some help, I’m going to leave a few of these cards here on the table. It’s all confidential.”
Amelia nodded, her eyes widening as it looked like she might speak. Instead she glanced at the floor and nodded again before waving at Dominique.
As Dominique made her way back out to the car, she shook her head. If this is what the entire town was going to be like, she had her work cut out for her. If people couldn’t even admit that one of their own being murdered affected them emotionally, it was going to be difficult to bring education and equality to a place like this.
Chapter Five
A slap on his desk drew Wes Mitchell out of his stupor. He jerked his head up and shut his notebook, blinking to adjust his eyes.
“How can I help you?” Luke, his deputy, stood over his desk with a tired expression. At only twenty-seven, the kid looked much older than that today. His face appeared weathered and ragged, but that seemed to be the look that everyone was wearing around here.
“I don’t know what to do, Sheriff,” Luke admitted. He cast his eyes downward and shifted his weight, his discomfort visible, same as it had been for everyone since the gruesome details of the town’s first murder in thirty years came to light. He paced in front of the desk, his face reddening until he let out a deep breath. “I just don’t know what to do.”
“You’re doing fine,” Wes said. “I promise, none of us know what to do right now, but you’re hanging in there and you’re handling things and upholding the law just like you’re supposed to.”
“But what about the mayor?” he asked. Wes glanced at the kid’s hands, noticing the way Luke was stuffing them in his pockets and then pulling them out again. He was jittery and his hands gave him away.
“He’s just the mayor,” Wes said, exhaling forcefully. This entire thing had hit him like a ton of bricks. He hoped Luke couldn’t tell just how unsure he was. He was supposed to be the leader—especially in situations like this. But he couldn’t even fathom how they had gotten themselves into this mess, much less how anyone was supposed to get out of it. “He’s a man. He’s not God. He can’t undo the situation any more than any of us can. He can’t turn back the clock and un-kill the poor girl. And he sure as hell can’t erase what we’ve already uncovered. You and I were both there. We saw it together. He can’t change the words his boy said, his truck tire marks at the scene of the crime, that he had promised to teach ‘that fucking queer a lesson,’ or anything else that we already know.” He made sure to use air quotes to directly quote Trent’s alleged statement but shuddered at its harshness nonetheless. “Right now, all signs point to the Golden Boy of Knell—Trent Westwick. That little twerp has assumed he could get away with anything his entire life. I’m not sayin’ he’s guilty. None of us can say that just yet. We’re still waiting on some of the forensics to come back. We have to have all of that. I’m just sayin’ that he’s acting a little too defensive for someone who’s innocent. That combined with his past antics and history of getting away with murder…er…” he stammered and cleared his throat. “Bad choice of words. Anyhow, we will let the facts of the case come forward throughout this investigation. We’ll follow the letter of the law, and we’l
l make sure there’s justice for this town. It’s the only way any of us can rebuild.”
Luke stood still, simply nodding his head while his lips stayed so tightly shut that little white lines were forming around the edges. Before he answered, he glanced down the hallway toward the holding cells.
“I know,” Wes said, keeping his tone as light as possible. “It’s not a situation any of us ever expected to be in. This is Knell after all. Most of our job consists of stopping speeding cars, giving partying high schoolers a warning, and just the general keeping of the peace. I know I’m supposed to tell you all the answers. That was easy when it was textbook stuff and training. This is different, kid. I’m right there with you. But we’ll get through it.”
“Ryan still not speaking?” Luke asked, letting out a sigh.
“He’s given us all he can,” Wes said, his shoulders slumping. He toyed with the pen jar on his desk, looking for any type of distraction. “We know all about his argument with Chloe on the day of the murder. We’ve heard from all witnesses, and all came up clean. According to him, he left that day, skipped town, and was sharing some seedy company at the time the deed was done.”
He scribbled notes on a sticky pad by his desk. They would have to revisit his statements and make sure they were airtight, just to do their due diligence.
“The mayor’s demanding we look at every angle,” Luke said, wiping his brow. His eyes darted from side to side around the room and his foot tapped at double pace.
“You’re all hyped up on caffeine.” Wes sighed. “We are looking into every avenue. We’ve questioned half the damn town already. And if anything pops up that’s solid, you know as well as I do, we’ll let that bastard out of his cell. For now, stop subbing coffee for sleep and go home for a bit.”
The rattling of bars down the hall, followed by a slew of curses and threats to cut the funding to the building made Wes want to scream. In typical Trent fashion, he was using his daddy’s name and every threat in the book in his favor.
