I scooped up Fred, grabbed the pile of papers from Leah’s desk, and stealthily slipped out the door. When I made it outside, the figure hadn’t moved, but the person’s head was tilted in my direction, following me toward my car. I fumbled for my keys. When I was finally able to slide the car key into the lock, I pried the door open and tossed Fred onto the passenger seat. I looked over my shoulder briefly, and the figure was advancing toward me. I could see now that the silhouette was a man: tall and slim with salt and pepper hair at his temples. Wild rage flashed across his eyes as he crept closer, nostrils flaring.
I immediately flung myself into the front seat and tried to put my keys in the ignition, but I was shaking so severely that my aim was off.
A piercing slam against the side of the car made me jump. The force of a sudden blow caused a crack in the window to my left.
“Get the fuck out of the car!” the man shouted. He was holding a crowbar above his head. Tears of hysteria flooded my eyes. I glanced at him through the window, where tiny cracks meandered through the glass like a spider web. He slammed the window again, rattling my eardrums. “Get out now!”
I focused as hard as I could to control the trembling of my fingers. Right as I finally succeeded in sliding my keys in the ignition, the window shattered completely. Shards of glass exploded onto my lap. The man reached his hand through the window and switched the locks. He flung the door open. Two strong hands took hold of my jacket and yanked me out of my seat. I hit the sidewalk with a thud.
The man crouched down and loomed over me. I looked into his blue eyes, which were furious and alert.
“Listen to me, you spoiled bitch.” He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Rob Seagrave’s father knows some powerful people. If you don’t confess to the murder of Leah Herrington, his people are gonna come after you.”
“But I didn’t—” I croaked.
“Do you want this crowbar jammed into your head?”
“No,” I whimpered.
“Go to the police station and confess. You don’t have a choice.”
He tightened his grip on the metal weapon, and with his other hand, he struck me in the cheekbone. Pain shot through my face. Blood and drool spilled out of the corner of my mouth.
“And keep Rob’s name out of that mouth.”
Without another word, he stood up and left me there, laying on the sidewalk with blood dripping down my chin.
There was a black SUV parked about twenty feet behind my damaged BMW. He slumped into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and drove off. His headlights flashed into my eyes as he passed.
I remained frozen for a minute, in shock, my muscles unable to move. I was eventually able to lift myself off of the ground. When I got into my car again, I reached across the console, which was covered in glass shards, and held Fred.
He purred in my arms. Tears rolled down my swollen cheek and dropped into his fur. “It’ll be alright,” I whispered to him, remembering the way Leah always consoled me when I was troubled. Feeling drained, distressed, and hopeless, I said, “It’ll always be alright.”
Chapter Ten - Five Years Prior
The summer sun beat down with oppression as Leah and I sat side by side, our legs submerged in the pool water. Guests would be arriving soon. My parents were busy in the kitchen, preparing appetizers and cocktails. Pretty soon, the backyard would be packed with friends and family to celebrate my graduation. Before the party started, I figured I’d seize the opportunity to be alone with Leah for a few minutes. Alone time had been sparse lately. Ever since I had come out to my parents, I felt like the two of us were being watched with careful eyes.
Coming out to my parents was anticlimactic, but in a sense, I would have preferred a blow up over their empty coldness. But my parents, however controlling and strict they were, did not often yell. That wasn’t their style. When I told my mother that Leah was my girlfriend, I sat on the couch beside her with sweat gathering in every crevice of my body. When I finally blurted out the words, the look in her eyes was perplexing. She appeared to be analyzing my words, processing and decoding in a way that was almost professional. Any hint of emotion was hidden from her face. She stared at me blankly and stiffly.
“How long?” she eventually asked, her lips white.
“Four months,” I said.
“…And…your classmates know?” Her back was straight and tense. Her hands were folded in her lap. My father was seated beside her. They exchanged serious glances.
“They do,” I said. “Leah’s a really great person. Her mom is ill, and Leah takes care of her.”
My dad chimed into the conversation for the first time. Just like my mom, he sat with his hands folded in front of him, as if this was a business meeting. He adjusted his tie before speaking. “Does she have a job? Any plans for college? That’s what’s most important, you know.”
“She works at Peter’s diner,” I said. “It’s just temporary…so that she can help her mom get back on her feet.”
My parents sat frozen, speechless. I couldn’t tell if they were worried, angry, or afraid. Tension hung in the air for what felt like ages.
Eventually, my mom ran her fingers over her shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. “We’ll talk more about this later,” she said. “I need to let this process.”
“Sure!” I said. “Take your time. I know it’s…a little unexpected.”
“A little?” my dad scoffed. “That’s an understatement.”
That was the end of the conversation. For weeks afterward, I waited for my parents to bring it up, but they seemed to avoid the topic like it was deadly. So they definitely weren’t supportive, but they weren’t adamantly against it, either. On the weekends, when I told them I’d be going out with Leah, they said, “Be safe. Have fun with your friend.”
Friend. I regarded their choice of words as evasive. I didn’t bother correcting them because I figured this was their way of coping. Just like when my older sister passed away so many years ago, my parents decided not to discuss their grief. They let the pain hang in the air like a cloud that never blew away. It followed them everywhere, but they never addressed it.
That was how they handled the news about my orientation.
As Leah sat beside me, her toes dipped in the pool, I noticed that she had nearly chewed off her fingernails.
“Hey. You don’t have to be so nervous,” I said. “Not everyone in my family is as homophobic as my parents.”
“Not as homophobic?” Leah asked. “Oh, great.”
“It’s not just because you’re a girl,” I said. “Regardless of gender, my parents would probably still find something to critique about you. That’s just how they are. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even good enough for them.”
Leah leaned back on her elbows, swishing her feet in the water. “Ever think ignorance isn’t about hate…but about self indulgence?” she asked. “Human beings just want to see themselves reflected in others. That’s why people have a tendency to hang around friends who are just like them.”
I nodded in agreement. “Self validation.”
Leah’s mouth cracked into a sly grin. “I guess I’m a little outside the margins,” she said. “Reckless lesbian who lives in a trailer and barely passed the twelfth grade.”
“Your piercings don’t help,” I added.
She playfully splashed me with pool water, then looked into my eyes. I looked back, admiring the sheer depth and intuition that was held within. Leah had seen so much pain and suffered so deeply over the course of her life. Her eyes didn’t bear the same quality that I was used to seeing in others. She was intense in comparison. She didn’t just look at people, but seeked to understand them.
“I can’t put into words how much I’m gonna miss you,” I said.
“But you’ll bloom like a flower in college,” she replied.
“I hope so.” I looked toward the back of the house, where I could see my mother’s silhouette through the kitchen window. She was setting up a concoction of
hors d’oeuvres. “I can’t imagine why someone would want to stay in the same town their whole life. Doesn’t that get boring after a while?”
“Sure does,” Leah said.
“I wish you could come with me.”
Leah reached out and tucked a lock of blonde hair behind my ear. “Tell you what. After I help my mom get back on her feet, maybe I can dig up some savings and get a place close to you.”
A spark of joy ignited like fireworks in my chest. “Really?”
“How many times do I have to remind you that I’m tougher than you think?” Leah’s grin softened. “I’m resilient, and I don’t give up on the people I love.”
I leaned toward her and planted a light kiss on her lips. She opened her mouth slightly, sliding her tongue against mine, beckoning me to come closer. The kiss was long and lingering, sending a shock of desire through me. But then my mom’s voice made me jump.
“Danielle!” Her voice echoed across the yard. “Come here now.”
Leah and I immediately jumped away from each other. Flustered, I left Leah behind and approached my mom, who stood waiting for me on the patio. She ushered me inside the house.
“What on earth are you thinking?” she asked after shutting the back door behind us. The inside of the house was as spotless as ever. It smelled like cleaning products and febreeze. “I’m still getting used to Leah coming around. You should know better than to behave that way in front of the family. Your aunts and uncles will be here any minute. What if they happened to see you?”
Blood rushed to my cheeks. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do,” she said. “I know there are other parents out there who support that type of thing, but I’m not comfortable with it. I haven’t said it because I was afraid I’d hurt your feelings, but I don’t want to see any touching between the two of you. Not under my roof.”
Embarrassment flooded through me. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t know you were watching.”
“Just keep the touching to a minimum please. I’d also appreciate it if you kept your relationship private. It’s embarrassing for your father and me. When your aunts and uncles arrive, I’d like you to simply introduce Leah as your friend.”
“Okay.”
My mom nodded with satisfaction, then said, “Now, help me set up the hors d’oeuvres, will you?”
With a quiet groan, I followed my mother into the kitchen.
This is going to be a long day…
Chapter Eleven
“Danielle?” A distant voice echoed into my consciousness, long and drawn out like it was bouncing along a dark hallway. “Danielle. Wake up, will you?”
My eyes darted open. Drool dripped from my lips and pooled onto the open textbook on my desk. I wiped my mouth. The corner of my lip was still swollen from where the man with the crowbar had struck me last week, but the wound was scabbing over. After returning from Leah’s apartment that night, I went straight into my bedroom and locked myself inside. I avoided conversation with Rosie as much as possible for the rest of the week. I was like a passenger on autopilot, only leaving the apartment to attend class, where I found it increasingly difficult to pay attention.
As I awoke from my unexpected nap, I squinted forward, where Professor Plourde stared at me through thick bifocals.
“This isn’t high school,” he said. “Please don’t embarrass me in my own class. If you can’t stay awake, don’t hesitate to leave.”
I looked around the lecture hall, where my classmates glared at me like I had something wrong with me. There were a few snickers and eye rolls directed at me as well.
“Sorry,” I muttered as I rubbed my eyes. I couldn’t remember when I had knocked out. Professor Plourde had been discussing our next paper, which was too stressful to even begin thinking about, and shortly after, his voice began to fade away. This was how most of my classes had been going for the last week. I could barely make it through an hour lecture, and although I hadn’t checked my grades online, I knew my grades were plummeting.
Turning toward the class, the professor wrapped up his lecture. “So class, what I need from you is a twelve-page paper in which you conclude all the research you’ve done this semester. Include an introduction, a data table, analysis, and conclusion. Make sure your writing is concise, but don’t be afraid to elaborate. This will be due on Friday. I won’t accept late submissions.”
All at once, students began to filter out of the lecture hall. After packing up my books, I made my way toward the exit. When I passed the professor’s desk, he called over to me.
“Danielle. I’d like a word.”
“Yes?” I said as I stopped in front of him. My voice came out as a croak, as if breaking through cobwebs. I hadn’t spoken a word to anyone all day. I’d been coiled into myself, hiding away and avoiding contact with others. I could feel the heavy weight of sleep deprivation under my eyes.
“I can’t help but notice that you don’t seem well,” Professor Plourde said. “The campus offers free tutoring services, as well as mental health counseling to students. You’re aware of that, right?”
I nodded.
“I know that this is none of my business,” he went on, leaning against his wooden desk. “I’m not speaking to you as a professor, but as a human being. You’re a very bright girl. I’d hate to see you fail this class because you weren’t willing to ask for help.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’d imagine this is a very difficult time for you, considering the…crime investigation. Do you think you can pull it together for just a few more weeks?”
“I think so,” I lied.
The professor grabbed a folded pamphlet off of his desk. “Here’s all the information you’ll need. I recommend you give tutoring a try. You won’t regret it.”
I took the pamphlet from him and managed to force a polite smile. After fastening the straps of my backpack, I made my way toward the exit.
Once I was outside, I found a trash can beside a wooden park bench. I crumbled the pamphlet into a ball and discarded it.
My phone buzzed in my hand. I considered ignoring it, but when Officer Valloreo’s number flashed across the screen, I lifted the speaker to my ear.
“Is this Danielle Kent?” he asked.
“This is she,” I replied.
“I know this is a difficult time, but if possible, I’d like you to come to the station. We have some questions and some new evidence.”
“Evidence?” I asked. My heart skipped a beat.
“Yes. Would you be willing to come to the station today?”
“Be right there,” I said. “And, Officer?”
“Yes?”
I paused. “I…I think I should make a confession as well.”
• • •
A bright fluorescent light shined down on my face. I sat in a cold hard chair, clutching the edge of the plastic table in front of me. There was a camera in the corner of the room, pointing directly at me. The air vents whirred dully, a constant metallic ringing that irritated my eardrums. I became aware of the electricity in the room, as if the air was charged with it.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Officer Valloreo said as he took a seat in front of me. “Leah left the party with Rob Seagrave at 4:27 a.m. The two of them left through the backyard of your parents’ beach house. They spoke to no one on their way out. The only people who claimed to have seen them leave are you and your friend Jenna. Leah and Rob were on the beach for about twenty minutes. At around five in the morning, Rob returned to the house without Leah. He continued partying until he called an uber at 6:12 a.m. He left the party alone.”
Every muscle in my body grew tense as I listened intently, hanging onto every word.
“One of the neighbors has a camera overlooking their backyard,” he continued. “From the camera’s vantage point, you can see the beach during the day. But at night, it’s too dark to see anything beyond the dunes. All that can be seen in the video recording from that night is a view of the street r
ight before the beach. At 4:40 a.m., when Leah and Rob were walking on the beach, a black Nissan Sentra drove onto the beach and disappeared past the dunes. Five minutes later, the vehicle came back into view and turned right on Sunset Drive. The vehicle had no license plate.”
“That’s it?” I asked. “That’s your only lead?”
“There’s more,” he said. “We found an iPhone 11 buried in the sand that we assume belonged to Leah. We were able to gain access to her text messages from that night.”
I leaned forward in my seat, gripping the edges of the table so tightly that my knuckles were white.
The officer pushed a sheet of paper toward me, where two texts were recorded and printed.
3:31: I know we haven’t spoken in awhile, but please talk to me
3:36: I need to get out of here. Please…
“Both of these texts were sent to one of those prepaid phones,” the officer said, “but the number was out of service. Do you have any idea who she might’ve been trying to reach?”
I shook my head, feeling hopeless and disappointed. Without a license plate on the suspected vehicle or an legitimate phone number to track, the investigators had little evidence to go off of.
“I have no idea,” I told him.
Officer Valloreo leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Alright. Well, I appreciate you coming down here. If that’s everything, you’re free to go.”
“You didn’t want to question me?” I asked.
“I just did.”
“But I…” I glanced at the camera pointed toward me, then shifted my gaze back to the policeman. “I said I wanted to confess.”
“Confess to what?” he asked, eyeing me closely. He froze in his chair.
“I… I don’t know.” My voice cracked. Warm tears filled my eyes. “I just… I keep wondering if I did something wrong.”
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