All Kinds of Bad

by Rachel Rust

  “I can’t believe Sam would do something like that to his own cousin,” I said. “Not to mention the fact that he’s only fourteen … doesn’t look fourteen. But I guess even fourteen-year-olds have trigger fingers.”

  Right next to my leg Alex’s hand down shifted into second as he turned the corner. The Mustang’s engine was smooth, although stern enough to let everyone around know it could kick their car’s ass.

  My own words reverberated in my mind … fourteen-year-olds have trigger fingers. Alex shifted into third.

  Trigger fingers, but probably no driver’s licenses. My stomach plummeted. Shadville was a half hour away by car. “Do you think Sam vandalized the Shadville High School?” I asked. “He would’ve had easy access to Nathan’s jersey that was found inside.”

  “Maybe,” Alex said.

  “But how did he get to Shadville if he doesn’t drive?”

  Alex smirked. “Maybe he does. Nathan stole a pickup and went for a joyride when he was only thirteen.”

  I shook my head, sick of hearing about Delinquent Nathan stories. “Sam didn’t do this by himself,” I said. “Someone’s been helping him.”

  Alex stayed quiet, but the look on his face—tight lipped, eyes straight ahead—told me his opinion was coming. The Mustang stopped at the side of the road. He yanked up on the emergency brake and turned to me. “Lydia, maybe Nathan’s in jail for a reason.”

  “Yeah, he’s being framed, or maybe Rollins has a grudge and would do anything to—”

  “No,” Alex said with a shake of his head. “Does Rollins hate Nathan? Yes, absolutely. But if the evidence is true, then Nathan put himself in jail, not Rollins. Maybe Sam had access to the gun, but so did Nathan.”

  The fingers of my right hand wrapped around my upper left arm. The throbbing memory of Sam Stone’s grip lingered.

  “You okay?” Alex asked.

  “I’ll be fine. At least my arm will be … but the rest? I don’t know.”

  “Lydia, I know you don’t wanna hear it, but maybe it’s time we all start facing the facts. Nathan’s been my friend for a really long time, but he has a reputation in this town for a reason. He’s…” Alex’s words drifted off as warm tears formed in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m not saying this to upset you.”

  “It’s not your fault, it just doesn’t make sense. None of it does.”

  “It makes perfect sense if you’re willing to look at it,” Alex said. “You want to believe Nathan’s being set up—and I can understand that—but the evidence makes it pretty clear that he’s behind it all.”

  “The evidence against Nathan is bullshit. Someone’s trying to make him go away for good.”

  “Fine,” Alex said with a little sigh, as though resigning to play along with my childish game. “Who do you think is setting him up?”

  The first name that came to my mind caught in my throat. Because I was sitting next to his son.

  Alex looked to me for an answer.

  The intensifying drum of my heart filled my ears. I wasn’t sure I was ready to head down that road—to accuse someone’s father of doing something as outrageous as sending another person to jail under false pretenses. But the opportunity was there. I had to take it. I had to know what Alex knew.

  “Your dad really hates him. He told me Nathan belongs in jail.”

  Alex’s blue eyes narrowed. “Are you accusing my dad of framing Nathan?”

  “He would have the means and the motive.”

  Alex’s nostrils flared. “Do not say things like that about my dad. I know you’re desperate to explain Nathan’s behavior, but dragging my dad into it is pretty fucked up.”

  My muscles tensed in response to his anger. I feigned journalistic calm. “But Lance says your dad and Nathan have a history together.”

  “A history?” Alex scoffed. “The only history my dad has with Nathan is that Nathan blew up the bank … he just couldn’t prove it.”

  I knew my next words were false, but I was learning quickly that investigating didn’t mean going right for the jugular. Sometimes a slow bleed was necessary. “Lance says your dad hired Nathan to burn down Saul Mitchell’s house.”

  “That’s a goddamn lie!” Alex snapped. “My dad had nothing to do with it. Nathan burned it down all on his own and let people think my dad did it.”

  In my head, I screamed at him that Nathan didn’t do it, but once again, I forced calm. “Why is that fire such a big deal around this town? What’s so interesting about it?”

  “I don’t know.” But Alex’s rigid body knew plenty.

  “Your dad’s reputation must’ve taken a huge hit when people thought he did it himself. Small-town people talk, and don’t forgive or forget too easily. That’s the kind of thing someone might want revenge for.”

  Alex continued his pissed-off silence.

  “The fire happened a couple years ago, right?” I asked, as my fingers drummed on my thigh. Something seemed close, like the answer to everything was lying just beyond my reach … just around the corner, just beyond my comprehension. But every time I tried to link details together, they repelled like opposing sides of a magnet.

  I flipped carefully through the information again. Alex’s dad. The fire. The motive.

  The timing.

  Two years ago.

  My fingers stopped drumming.

  “That’s when your mom killed herself, wasn’t it?” I asked. The words came out before I even comprehended the emotional impact they’d have on Alex.

  “Don’t talk about that,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just that it all happened around the same time. The fire, your mom’s death, and—”

  Alex glared at me. “You know what else happened two years ago? Nathan blew up the goddamn bank. He blew up the bank, and he lit that damn house on fire. All during one of his unhinged rages, pissed off at the world, taking it out on other people’s shit. Burned down the damn house, letting everyone believe it was my dad.” Alex’s last words barely made it to the air as his voice pinched closed with emotion. His hand pounded the steering wheel. “And then my mom … she … she couldn’t handle all the stress and she…”

  His head shook. His next words never came.

  “Alex?” My hand rested on his forearm. He didn’t react. I stared at the side of his face as his cheeks grew splotchy red. “Nathan didn’t start the fire. Saul Mitchell did.”

  Alex’s head shook back and forth, as though the quick movements would keep my words from entering his ears. He clearly didn’t want to hear anything but his own made-up truth.

  “Look, Lydia,” he said with a crackled voice. “All I know for sure is that Nathan has a history of doing stupid shit. And this recent stuff? He had access to everything … his gun, his jersey and that goddamn wrench. So please stop accusing my dad and don’t talk about my mom.”

  “I’m—I’m sorry, I just…” Guilt stole my words. Maybe I had stepped over the line in mentioning his mom, and blaming his dad … at least before I had any proof.

  But proof required facts. And the few facts I had and my beliefs were like mismatched puzzle pieces that, no matter how hard I tried to match their edges, wouldn’t slip together. The late evening light casted long dark shadows in all directions.

  In the darkening vehicle, Alex and I sat in silence with only the low idle of the Mustang as our company. Over and over again, I tried to cram together the jigsaw of misinformation.

  But the jagged pieces of confusion were knocked out cold by another thought. One that crept in silently, tiptoeing in the shadows, almost undetected. My mind’s eye went back to the night when the Shack was hit. Daniel throwing the black-and-white-handled wrench through the air toward Nathan.

  The wrench Alex had just mentioned.

  The wrench not found by police. The wrench known only by a few because Daniel, Nina, Nathan, and I had all vowed to remain silent about it.

  Daniel, Nina, Nathan, and me.

  Not Alex
.

  My hand slipped off his forearm as I leaned against the car door, away from him. My mouth opened, but no words came out. Thoughts swirled about in my head, full of different plans, different ways to play the situation. But the one thing they were all telling me was play it cool.

  My hand flew into my jacket pocket and pulled my phone out enough so I could see it out the corner of my eye, keeping it at my side, out of Alex’s sight. I tabbed through my apps until I found the one I was looking for: Voice recorder.

  With a shaky thumb, I hit the red circle.

  “How do you know about the wrench?” I asked.

  Shifting in his seat, Alex looked over at me. The emotion of remembering his mother disappeared from his eyes, replaced by a deadness. His face went slack. “What?”

  “The wrench,” I said. “How did you know about the wrench?” The words barely came out, having to fight past the dread-filled lump in my throat.

  Alex stared at me for what felt like forever. Mentally, I begged him for a good explanation. Maybe Daniel had broken our pact and told him all about the wrench. Hell, maybe Nathan had. But whatever the reason, I just wanted a harmless answer. One that would stop the squirming panic in my head.

  But then his deadened expression faded. Replaced by—my stomach turned—a smirk.

  “You threw the wrench through The Shack’s window,” I whispered.

  He twisted away from me for a moment, as though ready to laugh out loud.

  My heart raced. “Your dad’s not the one setting Nathan up … you are.”

  His raised an eyebrow and slow-clapped.

  “You son of a bitch…” my voice was barely able to croak from my tightening throat. “And the jersey at Shadville? And the brick through your dad’s bank window?”

  Alex’s lip curled up. “Taking Nathan’s jersey was the easiest part. It was just laying by his bag after practice, so I grabbed it. The next day, a few bricks through the Shadville window and then the jersey … it was all too easy. And I thought that’d be the nail in Stone’s coffin, but apparently not. I needed to up the ante.”

  My heart pounded hard against my ribs. “And the Pit Stop?”

  He shrugged.

  “But, Sam was there … I though he…”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Lydia, it’s not that hard to understand. Sam’s an idiot. I asked to borrow Nathan’s gun, told him I was going to the range. Stupid kid had no clue. But ya shoulda seen the look on his face when I handed it back and told him that I used it on The Pit Stop. And then it was only too easy to get him to give me the wrench.”

  “But why didn’t he report you?”

  “I had him by the balls. After using the gun, I wiped it down of course to get rid of my prints, but I let him think his fingerprints were all over it. And hell, the stupid kid even went into the store that night only to be seen by you. He couldn’t tell anyone without implicating himself.”

  The gunfire blasted through my mind again. “You stupid asshole.” I punched his arm as hard as I could. “You shot Mike and you nearly killed me!”

  Alex barely flinched at me pounding his arm. “I didn’t mean to, you know that.” His eyes scanned my body. “I’d never do anything to ruin such a fine piece of ass.”

  With disgust on my face, I sat back, leaning against the door.

  “Oh come on,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t play coy with me, I know you screwed Shane Fitzgerald and you wasted no time throwing yourself all over Nathan.” He leaned toward me. “And you should know, Alex DeMarco always gets what he wants. See? You’re in my car … you finally did accept a ride from me.”

  With my small frame slumped back in my seat, Alex’s formidable physical presence loomed large over me. The scene around us was bleak. Outside my door, a wide ditch led to an auto mechanic shop, its gravel parking lot deserted. Closed for the night. On the other side of the car was an old house, its chipped white paint overtaken by the gray of the rotted sideboards behind it. It looked like it hadn’t been lived in since the Great Depression. There were no other houses, no other people around. Just me—alone with a psycho.

  “My God, who are you?” He wasn’t the Alex I had known for the past year. The Alex with the cute smile and cool hair, the Alex who—until I met Nathan—was always just one good flirt away from convincing me to do things I would have regretted.

  Alex shrugged at my question. “I’m just a guy who was sick of seeing his town demolished by a no-good asshole. And when I heard he was moving back … I couldn’t allow it.”

  “You’re a piece of shit,” I said. “You were supposed to be Nathan’s friend.”

  Alex sneered. “That’s what’s so hilariously pathetic about it. Nathan was so hard up for friends in a town that hates him that he didn’t even realize I was playing him. For two years, I’ve been faking it, just waiting for the right time to make that bastard pay for what he did to my family.”

  “What he did to your family?” I asked. “What did he do to… Oh my God.” My skin flushed cold. The final jagged piece of the puzzle snapped together. “You blame Nathan for your mom’s death, don’t you?”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed. “After setting the fire, he may as well have shoved those damn pills down her throat himself. Stupid bastard couldn’t even keep his own mom around, and then he made mine…”

  As Alex’s words exited his mouth, a furious tension built up inside me, along the entire length of my body, down my legs, down my arms. My right hand curled tight. Before I could even comprehend what it was doing, my hand went airborne.

  My fist popped Alex in the cheek next to his nose. All my facial muscles clenched to keep the searing pain in my hand from escaping my lips.

  Alex’s head bopped back and his hand flew up to his face. “Stupid bitch!”

  My finger curled into the door latch and pulled. As the door popped open, my phone fell onto my lap. The movement illuminated the screen, showing the recording app.

  I froze.

  Alex looked down at the phone. “What the hell are you doing?” His hand shot across the car, reaching for my phone. My fingers latched onto it, and I consciously told them not to let go. Ever.

  “No!” I screamed, turning my body away from his reach. He grabbed my arm, attempting to yank me toward him. I pulled away and my weight against the car door sent it flying open. I went down shoulder-first into the grass. With my right hand clutching the phone, I crawled out of the car, kicking at Alex’s hands grabbing at my ankles.

  Energy surged through me, and I lifted myself off the ground, gaining my footing. Behind me, Alex’s car door shut. The sound jolted me into running. Down into the ditch, ignoring the piercing pain shooting through my knee, up into my thigh.

  Every cell within my body heaved forward. The ditch sloped back up towards the gravel parking lot of the mechanic shop. With each lunge up the incline, a grunt escaped my lips as every step brought on more excruciating pain. Still I pushed on.

  But tears came.

  Despite my self-preservation kicking in full-gear, Alex’s running strides were close. His legs were longer than mine. His knee wasn’t busted.

  Sobs emitted from me. The pain. The enclosing footsteps.

  I glanced over my shoulder. He was less than ten feet, his face full of determination. I pushed my legs harder.

  My left foot went down on a jagged rock, buckling my knee under me. White-hot fire engulfed my leg. I screamed out, twisting as I fell. Chunks of gravel drilled into my back and side as I landed, sending pain through my whole body.

  Alex was on top of me in an instant.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  She Battles

  Alex pressed his weight down onto me. My fingers clutched my phone as hard as they could, but his hands were too much for mine. One by one, he pried my fingers away and plucked the phone from me. He shoved it into his back pocket with a grin.

  “Now,” he said, pinning my arms down, kneeling over me. “I don’t know where you think you’re going.”


  “Please,” I cried. My efforts of wriggling out of his grip were futile. “Let me go!”

  “See, if I do that, you’ll run to Rollins, and we can’t have that, now can we?” Alex bit the inside of his lip. He raised my hands over my head and secured both my wrists under one of his hands. His other hand unzipped my jacket, then moved each side away, exposing the curves of my chest.

  “No,” I said, pulling my hands with as much might as I could muster. They didn’t budge.

  Hot tears poured out of my eyes as his fingers landed on my chin, then traced down my neck and between my breasts. He leaned forward, pressing his torso down onto mine. With his lips brushing against my ear, he spoke, “This would’ve been so much better for you if you had accepted my offer of a date a long time ago.” He kissed my ear lobe. “But don’t worry, I’ll enjoy it enough for both of us.”

  A deep sob bubbled up out of me, followed by a scream, the sound of which was muted by the gurgling of tears and mucus running down the back of my throat.

  Alex’s free hand slapped down over my mouth, his pinky pressing against my nose, blocking off most of my air. My entire body writhed under his, twisting each direction as much as possible. His lips traced against my neck, then across my collar bone. As he nuzzled his nose against my sternum, my fear was halted by the feel of his grip around my wrists loosening.

  My right hand twisted. And then twisted again, this time with a hard downward pull. My hand popped free. I froze for a moment, expecting him to restrain me again, but with his face on my upper stomach, he was too occupied to notice.

  My hand shot out, grasping the ground around me. Above my head. Beside me. Down by my waist.

  It had to be there somewhere.

  I felt around again.

  Alex’s face moved up, nuzzling under my left breast. My face clenched with a fresh batch of tears letting loose. My hand moved faster around the gravel.

  My fingers finally bumped into it: the jagged rock which had brought me down. My fingers curled around it, and with as much energy as my worn out arm had, I swung it left.