Dispatched Confessions (The Love is Murder Social Club Book 2)

by Talia Maxwell

  She swore she’d never become like her own mother: an aging Luddite. Except she was exactly like her own mother and totally afraid of the world she couldn’t imagine beyond her child’s screen.

  Alex was hurting there and she couldn’t reach him—that ate at her.

  “We’re here,” Maeve reminded Holly. “We’re here with you. That’s why we’re a team.”

  “Yeah,” Kristy said and she leaned forward and gave Holly’s upper arm a gentle squeeze. “A team that’s about to find out that there’s no way Alex escaped a detention center, ran to the park unnoticed, strangled Gregor, ditched gloves, and made it back into his room in forty-one minutes…”

  Holly breathed in and held her breath and then breathed out. He didn’t have a phone; he couldn’t have possibly known about the argument. There was no way—there was no way. She took a breath, calming herself. There was no fucking way.

  They stopped by her house first.

  Alex’s bedroom was untouched since the night he went to Gloria’s. His bed was unmade and his homework was scattered around the desk. He had a laptop, but he didn’t use it much. Holly noticed it was still there, on his desk. She opened it up and the screen flashed on but demanded a password she didn’t have.

  She tried a few easy guesses and then abandoned the pursuit.

  Maeve and Millie drove to the park to wait. And Kristy put on her tennis shoes and said, “Get me to the detention center. Let’s do this.”

  Three runs. Kristy did two. Maeve did one. Kristy arrived back to the car sweaty and pumped up on adrenaline, crawling into the back seat at thirty-two minutes the first time through.

  It was within a believable timeframe. All three times.

  Holly sank to the floor and looked at the blinking time on her phone.

  “He could’ve done it,” she said.

  “That doesn’t mean he did,” Maeve reminded Holly after her own attempt: thirty-eight minutes and ten seconds. The park, within a half a mile of the Gamarra home, and was a hilly run but doable all the way to the Mt. Tabor neighborhood where the detention center sat secluded.

  The police were right.

  Alex had enough potential unaccounted for time that it was possible, albeit unlikely, he could have committed the crime.

  Except.

  Kristy and Maeve were spent.

  They drove back to Holly’s house to rendezvous and the runners took ten minutes or more to recover; they laid down on the ground in Alex’s room and breathed in heavy sobbing sighs, quickly filling their lungs with air. They ran. They spent time at the park, walking through the actions—sixty seconds or maybe a bit more—time to fight and then to crawl into the top portion of the slide and strangle her.

  “What did we accomplish?” Holly asked as the full group gathered in her living room. “That we need to look for a different way to prove Alex is innocent?”

  “Yes,” Maeve answered. She held a giant glass of ice water in her hand and she ran it across her forehead, the droplets of water running down her nose. “What if Alex was framed?”

  “That’s always a leap,” Rosie said.

  “No,” Kristy interjected. “No, if it’s premeditated, of course there could be an attempt to frame the kid. Who else knew about Alex’s expulsion?”

  “Everyone,” Holly answered. She was certain that the FERPA regulations that should have kept her child’s name a secret were routinely ignored; everyone knew in a manner of hours what had happened. It was worse that it was Alex Gamarra, the elementary school secretary’s kid. She knew better than to assume privacy. The idea of Joel ran through her head, too—would the whole school learn about that, too? Would her little game be talk of the teacher’s lounge? Who would take her seriously if Joel spread the rumor that she was a nympho or something equally degrading? She liked him. She’d always liked him. There were those kids from high school who sort of stuck with her and she wondered if there was a timeline with a happy ending.

  Holly spent time imagining a life where Joel Rusk woke up next to her and kissed her goodbye in the morning. She couldn’t stop the fantasy from unfolding—her picturesque time with him seemed like a coffee commercial. She and he woke up in white sheets, their white teeth gleaming, and he rolled out of bed in his tight underwear and made her a cup of black coffee. And between the kissing and rubbing the soft parts of their feet together, she paused to drink the warm coffee and laugh and enjoy the sunlight streaming through the room.

  She knew what she loved about her dreams with Joel.

  They reeked of the domesticated bliss she’d never had with Francisco.

  Deep down, Holly wondered if she was a fool to believe she could survive a fling with the man unscathed. She wasn’t used to dating and she couldn’t imagine a scenario where she got her shit together enough to give him anything of herself. At any rate, news of their hook-up could also spread through the school. Especially if Alex chose not to keep it on the down low.

  Maybe Alex’s expulsion was a blessing.

  He’d gladly accept the outcome if it meant escaping the eventual jokes of his mother dating his guidance counselor. That was Holly’s prediction.

  Her heart gave a deep and sudden ache for her boy. He was alone, he was scared, he was clearly trying to do right.

  She thought of Xiomara’s face when she’d shown up with the gun and the calm way the woman sent her away. If the woman was trying to help Holly, she wasn’t helping. Twice she’d stolen Holly’s chances to be a mom, to be with her kid when he needed her most.

  “So,” Maeve said. “We’re back to square one. Alex had motive and, now, opportunity.”

  Holly hung her head. Kristy rubbed her back.

  “That doesn’t mean we think he’s guilty, Holls,” Millie whispered.

  “I know, I know,” Holly replied and waved her hand. “That’s just not my boy. He couldn’t be the monster that would do that….he’s not…”

  “We need evidence, Holly.”

  Holly wasn’t sure who said it and in the moment she was angry that her word alone wasn’t all the evidence they needed. But then she realized her friends were right. Without evidence, Alex was as good as guilty. They needed proof that he didn’t escape and run to the park.

  “You haven’t told anyone about your night with Joel either,” Millie said from the corner of the living room. The girls all turned and she laughed and stood up. “I was just saying what everyone was thinking.”

  “I was thinking about asking neighbors along the route if anyone has security cameras pointing to the street,” Maeve answered, a blank look on her face, her lids heavy with annoyance.

  “I was thinking about we need to find out how Claire was lured to the park,” Rosie shrugged.

  Holly shifted and turned her body to look at Maeve. A smile appeared. “I was thinking about Joel,” she admitted.

  “Yeah, I kinda was, too,” Kristy agreed. “He’s fucking hot, Holly.”

  The tension of Alex’s disappearance and alleged guilt dissipated for one second as the girls rallied together to hear about her brief encounter with him. She downplayed the ecstasy out of respect. To her knowledge, only Maeve—married—and Rosie, engaged, were having sex with any regularity.

  “The sex was…well, I mean, it ended in the pool. And,” she shivered, remembering.

  “I saw that,” Maeve said and slapped her knee. “Oh man, I’m going to have head home ladies and nab myself some Derek if we keep talking like this.”

  “It’ll help with the baby-making,” Millie said and then promptly put her hand over her mouth. All heads turned to Maeve whose annoyance with her sister grew even bigger and she was forced to divulge, apologetic for the secrecy, that yeah—she and her husband were, as people often said euphemistically, ‘enjoying trying.’

  Maeve’s sex life was steamy and often a source of jealousy at the Social Club.

  Holly thought her husband Derek looked like he belonged in the Game of Thrones cast—he was rugged and dark and his eyes looked like he’
d lived a few lifetimes. Weary and cautious.

  “Is it weird that the thought of him impregnating me turns me on?” Maeve asked.

  “No, it’s hormones,” Kristy said and laughed. “We’re programed to want the D when we ovulate. I am so ridiculously horny mid-cycle. That’s when I have to watch porn the most.”

  “Yes!” Maeve agreed. “Not to the porn. But yeah…I didn’t want to feel the pressure to report,” she shot a look to Millie who winced, “and so my one request is let me do this and when there’s news, I’ll tell.”

  “Fair enough,” Rosie said with a nod. “We solemnly swear…”

  “…to keep our mouths shut. Amen,” Holly ended. She stood up and walked over to Maeve and kissed her on the top of her head. “Love you, sweetie. You’re gonna be the best mom.”

  Maeve bit back emotion and she swallowed and nodded. “We’re gonna find him, Holly. We are. He’s close and he’s safe and we’re not giving up.”

  “I know you’re not giving up,” Holly sniffed. “My life isn’t the only one that matters…” she tried, but it was Rosie who stood up, stretched and yawned out a lengthy, “Bull….shit.”

  Holly turned and looked at her.

  “What did you say?”

  “I call bullshit on that. Right now, Holly, your life is absolutely the one that matters. We’re not here because Maeve gets to bone Derek tonight with his donkey dick.”

  “Be respectful of my future baby daddy’s penis, please,” Maeve said and smiled wide. “But…” she lifted her hands up and made the space between them about a foot long and winked.

  “I’m still trying to forget the story of the two of them having sex at the church during his dad’s funeral…” Millie said with a smirk.

  Maeve picked up a throw pillow off of Holly’s couch and threw it at her sister in a violent, but playful, rage.

  “You’re intolerable,” Maeve bemoaned. She clapped and turned to Holly. “What’s next, Holly? We need to find Alex. That’s how we can help. I can go to Francisco’s house and see if he’s there—”

  “He wouldn’t risk the violation of his custody agreement,” Holly said with a solid headshake. “I’m going to have to renegotiate the whole thing anyway because I hadn’t anticipated his mom’s involvement. She’s de facto father.”

  “And he’s not with her?”

  Holly shook her head. “No. I searched every inch of that house with Xiomara by my side. Unless they pulled some great trick, he wasn’t there. She for sure gave him money, but I’m willing to bet that’s all. She funded the escape in a fully deniable way…she’s a real gem.”

  “So, we scare her into telling us,” Millie suggested.

  Holly loathed to admit to the group that she’d already tried that. Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Maeve was quick to denounce using any (additional) scare tactics on anyone. The group could rest in agreement on that—they were justice fighters and truth hunters and they wouldn’t stoop to tactics reserved for cowards.

  “Look,” Holly said and she cleared her throat, commanding an audience with her friends. They turned and looked at her, giving their full attention. “Thanks. I mean it. Thank you for all your help.”

  “Don’t thank us yet,” Rosie laughed.

  “Wait until we find him,” Maeve agreed. Her phone buzzed and she looked at the screen. “It’s Derek. I should head back home…”

  “Missionary position. Don’t get fancy with it,” Millie teased.

  “Come on ladies, back in the car,” Maeve jangled the keys like they were cats and shifted off to Holly’s driveway after pausing to give her a hug.

  Kristy stopped last and looked Holly in the eye. “You gonna be okay? I feel weird about leaving you here alone.”

  “I’m fine,” Holly said, but the truth was she hadn’t really thought about being alone until Kristy mentioned it.

  “You want me to stay?” her friend asked, tenderness and understanding in the way she paused and tilted her head, fully engaged, aware. Holly hugged her again.

  “Go home,” she said. “Your car’s at Maeve’s and I’m okay.”

  “You sure?” Kristy asked again and for a second Holly thought about saying, no, okay, stay. But she didn’t.

  Later, she wished she knew why she had let them all leave.

  Why she didn’t sense the danger looming at her doorstep. Later, she’d wonder how during their trial runs and attempts at racing through the two miles of east Portland, no one noticed the cars following them.

  And when Maeve’s CRV disappeared down the block, Holly locked her doors and turned off the lights and retreated slowly up the stairs to her bedroom, unaware of the dangers looming at her doorstep.

  Chapter Twenty

  He got up at three am. It was the darkest part of night—the sun was still hours from rising as fall approached in a hurry, his favorite season. Fall was full of promise and warmth—it was the faster cousin to summer and Joel almost preferred its hurried pace and changing colors to the endless green and open days of summertime.

  Fall was for soccer. Oregon had a distinct smell—wet grass and nutty pine and the crisp crunch of leaves underfoot. The rains helped chase away the forest fire smoke that had blanketed the city the past two years, turning Portland into ash and smoke. Now, the skies were clear. Joel dressed for the cool morning and stuck headphones in his ears to drown out his own looping mental dialogue. The earth was dry, crisp and dark. Fall was inhaling fresh cool air in the mornings and lying out in the sun in the afternoons.

  Except in the middle of the night, his brain was stuck. All he could think about was Holly and Alex.

  He often fixated on the things he could not control and the Gamarra family fit into that category.

  Outside on the pavement, Joel stretched and jogged slowly before picking up his pace and hitting the open road, music in his ears, the morning air cool on his face.

  He ran for an hour. Ran until sweat trickled down his face and his shins protested with pulling spasms. Joel made it back to his apartment and the sun was still below the horizon, barely waking up for the day. For all of fall’s blessings, the later sunrise was one of the least welcome changes to his day.

  Still sweating and energized from his early morning run, he pulled up his work email and stared at the collection of problems already gathering before him as Monday rolled out its call to action.

  One particular email caught his eye.

  It was from Violet.

  Her plea to him was short and written all in lowercase letters and without punctuation. The effect made what she said even stranger. He read it over and over, sighing. He got up and walked to the shower—sleep wasn’t going to grace him again before his alarm went off for work and if Violet’s email was any indication, it was already going to be an exhausting day.

  He replayed her words once more, adding the strange midnight message to the ever-growing list of things he carried with him:

  mr rusk i need to talk to you today something happened and i think what happened to claire is going to happen to me too

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She didn’t know when she was aware that someone was standing in her room. She knew in her subconscious that she wasn’t safe before she was fully awake—it was as though something from her dreams reached out and shook her back to reality. A scream caught in her throat as she bolted upright and saw the figure in the doorway. A figure—that’s all she had time to process.

  This figure had no gender, had no sex or shape.

  It was just a mass of dark clothing and a mask, taking advantage of her frightened disorientation. Then there were two people. The black mass multiplied—she reached for her lamp, instinctually wanting light, but it was knocked from her reach as she sat up, arms outstretched.

  Holly tried to bolt out of bed, but it was then she realized her feet were already bound. In her sleep, the intruder had tied her ankles together in a tight knot. She’d remained asleep as someone violated her house and her safety—the cool terror of
it poured over her and when she tried to scream, one of the monsters jumped up on to the bed and clasped a gloved hand over her mouth. Holly fought and kicked her roped legs.

  “Where is Alex?” one of the masked intruders whisper-growled into her ear. “Where is he?” The voice was higher than she expected.

  A woman?

  “If you don’t tell us,” the other one growled in the same low tone, “we’ll kill you.”

  Holly shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said into her attacker’s palm. “I don’t know.”

  Without saying another word, the intruders worked together to place a long strip of duct tape over her mouth. Breathing heavily out of her nose, the adhesive sticking to her lips, pieces of her hair caught in the band, Holly tried to calm herself. They handcuffed her to her bedside table.

  Panic rose and she kicked and the table bucked as she tried to thrash about.

  She thought of the gun.

  In her gun safe. Locked away. Safe from them at least.

  Resigned, Holly let the tears fall and tried to plead with the attackers, despite their complete disinterest in her. One of them leaned down close to her ear, their voice rough as they whispered, “We’ll find him, Holly. Don’t think we won’t.”

  With a rage she couldn’t understand, the monster dressed in dark clothing shoved her head into the bed and took a cheap shot, punching her stomach and causing Holly to double over in pain.

  Then they were gone.

  The house went quiet and empty and Holly’s tears had dried on to her cheeks and the silver outside of the duct tape loosened a bit around her mouth. She slid to the ground, her arms staying above her head, cuffed to a leg of the end table. Holly used her bed to gain leverage and then propped her elbows up and lifted her body to her feet. She was stuck. The nightstand was heavy and cumbersome—she managed to unload the top drawer and drag herself and the furniture down to the end of the bed. The rope around her ankles dug into her skin and created large red grooves and Holly wanted to weep, but she kept inching forward, hopping and dragging, hopping and dragging. She used the table to remain steady as she shimmied and tugged and pulled and scooted out into the hallway.