“I do talk to him. We text a lot.” He’s coming home for Thanksgiving and I’ll be glad to see him. “He’s doing good.”
“How about Heather? Is he still with her?”
“Nah. That relationship ended the minute summer was over.” Michael hadn’t been too broken up about it. He’d known what he was dealing with going in—a summer fling, pure and simple.
Her smile fades. “Do you regret last summer and everything that happened?”
She’s changing subjects so quick I can hardly keep up. I scoot closer to her and grab her hands, squeezing them tight. “No. I don’t regret meeting you. I don’t regret spending time with you. I don’t regret any part of you, Reverie. The only thing I regret is what happened to Krista and how that…ruined us.”
We’re silent for a while as we absorb what I said. Krista’s death did ruin us but I wonder if we were doomed to fail from the beginning.
“You and me…we’re not a good idea, are we?” she finally asks.
I release one of her hands and cup her cheek, tilting her head up so our mouths are almost perfectly aligned. “Probably not. But that’s not going to stop me from trying for us again.”
She closes her eyes, the corners of her mouth tilting upward. “You say the sweetest things, I swear.”
I kiss her, keeping it brief because it would be so easy to get carried away. I refuse to make out with her in the parking lot of the police station so I tell her we should make a run for it and get inside as fast as possible. We both jerk up the hoods on our sweatshirts and climb out of the truck, running through the pouring rain as we dodge the various puddles heading toward the front entrance.
It’s a Saturday afternoon and with the shitty weather, no one is really around. The streets in town were pretty much abandoned too because unlike the citizens of southern California, who are driving everywhere at all times, the people in my small town batten down the hatches and stay inside when it storms like this.
I’d rather be anywhere other than this place, which is full of nothing but bad memories. I’ve spent far too much time at a police station—in freaking jail—for someone my age. I tell myself I can’t regret what’s happened to me because spending time here wouldn’t have led me to Reverie but…
Yeah. I regret it. I was wronged and no one seemed to care. I can’t let that fuel my actions for the rest of my life but I certainly have a right to be bitter.
And man, I hate being inside the station, the familiar smell, the sounds, the drab color of the walls. I’m right back where I don’t want to be and am thankful that the moment Reverie is done giving her statement, I can walk my ass out of here and never look back.
If I were smart and had an actual plan, I’d leave this town for good. I have a decent job but I can find one just like it anywhere. I can find an apartment and new friends too. I don’t need this place.
But change is hard. I have no one to rely on.
Only me.
We approach the front desk and Reverie asks to see Detective Jacoby. The man appears within seconds of receiving notice we’re here and he leads the both of us back to his desk, holding his hand out toward the two chairs in front of it, indicating he wants us to sit down.
“You wasted no time getting here,” he says to Reverie with a pleasant smile. But I can see the disappointment in his gaze. I know he doesn’t like that I’m here with her. This guy has never been on my side and my alibi is going to disappoint him.
“I figured I needed to get this over with. So you would leave Nick alone once and for all,” she says, fidgeting in her seat. I can tell she’s uncomfortable and I wish I could give her hand a reassuring squeeze but I don’t. We need to remain as neutral as possible, especially in front of this guy.
“So you’re the one who brought her here?” Jacoby settles his attention on me.
“I gave her ride, yeah.” I nod.
“Nasty weather out there.” He points out the obvious. “Guess it was worth it though, to get us off your ass, right?” Jacoby laughs at his own joke, though Reverie and I both don’t even crack a smile.
Jerk. He’s making fun of my life. A life the police force have made miserable going on almost two years.
He sobers up real quick. “All right, little lady. Let’s get you settled so we can record your statement.” Standing, he hitches up his pants, keeping his gaze pinned on her. “You ready?”
She blinks up at him. “You’re not going to question me here?”
“Nah, it’s too noisy out here with everyone around. And we gotta get rid of Fairfield.” Jacoby jerks a thumb in my direction. “Can’t have him lurking around sending you looks, getting you to change your statement if you say something wrong.”
I’m offended and from what I can tell, so is Reverie. She stands, her head held high. Jacoby is a complete dumbass. “He can’t change the truth, Detective Jacoby. I don’t like how you imply he has control over what I’m going to say.”
“Why, I never said any such thing,” he blusters, his cheeks ruddy.
“You implied it though and that’s almost the same thing.” She straightens her shoulders, her expression cool and composed, completely unruffled. Yet again, I’m impressed as hell. Jacoby most likely can sense he won’t rattle her and I bet he hates that. “Are you ready?”
“I am.” He leads her away, sending me a long, measured look as he glances over his shoulder one last time. I return the same look, refusing to let him intimidate me.
I stare at them long after they disappear out of vision, the relief that takes hold of me so strong I almost want to shout with happiness. This is it. They can’t come after me any longer. I’m done with this place.
So. Done.
I’m making my way out of the room where the other detectives’ desks are when I hear someone shuffle up behind me.
“Well, look at you. Finally come down to the station to confess your sins and tell everyone what you did to my sweet little girl?”
All the relief bleeds out of me until I feel as flat as a deflated balloon. I recognize that voice. He sounds drunk. Angry. Frustrated.
Slowly I turn to find Krista’s father standing in front of me, wavering on his feet, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth turned up in one corner with a sneer. She looked so much like him, though prettier, of course. She was mean when she drank too.
Just like her dad.
“Hey Mr. Benson,” I offer in greeting because I don’t know what else to say, waiting for the blow of his words pummeling me. The man likes to shout. I’ve heard him do it enough. I don’t think being inside a police station will stop him either.
“Don’t you ‘hey’ me, you stupid little fucker,” he mutters, stepping closer to me. I take a step back, wrinkling my nose at the strong scent of alcohol I smell on his breath. “Why are you here? Did they finally find something to pin this on you? Because we all know you did it. You killed my Krista.”
“I didn’t do it, sir,” I start but he interrupts me, cutting me off.
“Sir.” He spits the word out, like it’s a curse. “Aren’t you cute, trying to be all respectable and shit.” He grabs hold of the front of my shirt and jerks me close to him, his face in mine. “Give it up and tell the truth, boy. Tell them once and for all what you did to my girl and maybe then God can forgive you. Because I know I sure as hell can’t.”
He’s gonna hit me. Choke me. Something, I don’t know what, but he’s pissed off and looking for a fight. His fingers tighten on my shirt, pulling me even closer to him and I glance around, shocked but not really that no one is paying us any mind.
Fucking cops would probably love to see Krista’s dad beat the shit out of me. They’d probably call it poetic justice because in their eyes, I’m guilty.
Jesus, what sort of corrupt town do I live in anyway?
“Let him go, Hal. Before the cops arrest your ass for assault.”
Hal lets me go at the same time I look to my right to find of all people David standing there, a grim expression on his face.
I brush off the front of my sweatshirt, backing away from both of them.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask incredulously. My old friend looks the same but he doesn’t. There’s a weariness clinging to him, as if he’s given up on this town, on himself. There’s an edginess to him too, as he bounces on his feet, back and forth, almost like he’s looking for a fight.
Great.
“We come here a lot to talk to the detectives who are working on the investigation,” David explains. “See if they have any new leads into Krista’s murder.”
Well, no shit. Look at my former best friend, helping my ex’s dad find her murderer. Talk about twisted. “I didn’t realize you and Hal were so close.”
“We became close after what…happened,” David says like it’s no big deal.
Uh huh. This doesn’t sit right. Can’t explain why but what the hell is David really doing? Not that I can trust the fucker or his motives and that’s probably my biggest problem. This all smells wrong to me. Looks wrong. Feels wrong.
And usually when I feel like this, I need to trust my instincts.
“He’s helped me a lot more than you ever did, you little shit,” Hal adds. Trying to get a rise out of me I’m sure but I refuse to take the bait.
Bad enough, how weird it is to have David here, perfectly calm and acting like it’s normal to hang out in a police station all the time. He did more jail time than I did so you’d think he wouldn’t want to step near this place once he got out.
“You all right, buddy?” David asks, a faint smile on his face. Like we’re back to being best friends again or something. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Confessing his sins is what I told him. He needs to come clean,” Hal says. David sends him a look and Hal clamps his lips shut tight.
“He’s been…upset that there’s been no progress in the investigation,” David tells me, like Hal isn’t standing right next to us. “He’s been drinking heavily, especially lately.”
More like he’s been drinking heavily since we were little kids but I let it slide. “Not much evidence in the case, huh?”
“Not enough, and the police aren’t saying much either. Whoever did it knew what he was doing.” David leans in closer when he says that last bit, like he doesn’t want Krista’s dad to hear. Good call. “We’re starting to wonder if it was someone from out of town. A stranger passing through.”
“Maybe.” I scratch my chin, wishing I could get the hell out of here. Given the chance, I’ll leave the building and wait out in my truck for Reverie. Text her where I’m am so she doesn’t think I bailed.
I can’t stand it in here already. And it’s become a million times worse dealing with these two from my not so distant past.
“So why are you here?” David asks, his tone pleasant, as is his expression. He’s dressed in jeans and a button down plaid shirt, looking every inch a respectable teenage boy hanging out at the police station waiting for more information about a killer. His look, the way he’s acting, none of it rings true for me. It feels like an act and I wonder if I’m the only one not falling for it.
“My uh, friend is talking to the cops,” I offer, not wanting to explain myself any further.
David frowns. “What friend?”
“You don’t know her.”
“Is it that girl who’s family you were working for?” At my look of surprise David continues on. “Krista told me all about her.”
Shit. That means he must know about the trouble Krista tried to cause between us too. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“Nothing important.” He waves a hand, dismissing my question. “What’s done is done. Though I’m wondering what she could possibly say to the detectives that would matter to the investigation.”
“She’s giving a statement as to my whereabouts regarding the night Krista was murdered,” I explain further, fighting against the panic that’s rising within me. I don’t like this, making small talk with my backstabbing ex-best friend. I’m desperate to get out of here.
“Your whereabouts? What are you saying?” Hal asks, his voice getting louder, if that’s possible. “Is she claiming she was with you that night?”
“She was with me.” Anger fills me and I turn to walk away, tossing over my shoulder. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I didn’t kill Krista. Take your rage out on someone else.”
I start to leave the building and David follows after me like a loyal dog, calling my name. I refuse to look at him, acknowledge him, but he grabs hold of my arm and stops me just in front of the station entrance.
“I’m sorry, man. You have to understand where he’s coming from. He’s upset they don’t have a firm suspect,” David says. “Well, except for you.”
My hands clench into fists like I have no control over them. “I’m not a suspect. I have an alibi.”
His brows rise. “All of a sudden, huh? That’s…interesting.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Funny how the supposed truth comes out months after Krista dies.” David steps closer, his pleasant, easygoing demeanor evaporating in a second. He glowers at me, his stance downright menacing and I wonder if he picked up this shift in mood while he was in jail. You learn from the best there. A real first hand lesson on criminal behavior.
“Go ahead and say what you want to say, David.” I take a step away, leaning against the wall, hands shoved in my pockets but my fists still clenched. I could take him out quick. At least, I used to be able to. He’s bigger now, though not as tall as me. And he might’ve learned a few moves in jail too. “I can tell you’re just dying to get it out.”
He smirks, his gaze cold. “Just get it over with and tell them you did it, Nick. They all suspect you. We all know you killed her. She was driving you crazy, unable to take no for an answer and nagging at you all the time. You finally couldn’t take it anymore.”
I can’t believe the nerve of this asshole. “Is that how you think it played out?”
“Sure.” He shrugs, the smirk still firmly planted on his face. I want to punch it off, again and again until he’s swollen and bleeding. Fucker. “Krista was always persistent. A real pain in the ass, but also a good lay, right? So you could look past her crazy behavior just to get with her. At least, I could.”
He’s trying to provoke me on purpose but I remain silent, refusing to say something stupid and give him ammunition to use against me.
“I know she was trying to blackmail you to dump your rich little girlfriend.” At my non-reaction he laughs. “You’re good with that poker face but I see you’re surprised I know. She told me everything. She was so frustrated you didn’t want her anymore that she turned to me. And trust me, I tried to convince her to leave you alone but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Right. I’m sure you were working her over, trying to win her back,” I retort. “I don’t need to hear this shit, David. I don’t care what you two did together. I didn’t kill her. I didn’t see her that night. I don’t know what happened or who did that to her.”
“You were supposed to meet her.”
“And I didn’t. I was with Reverie.”
He narrows his eyes. “Right. Reverie, the rich girlfriend Krista hated. Such a stupid name, but I heard she’s a real brainless twit so there’s that.” Another reluctant laugh slips from him. “The sweet and pure minister’s daughter. Did it make you feel better, fucking a virgin? Was it worth it? Considering she’s not rich anymore, I don’t see how it could’ve worked out too well for you since you didn’t gain much. Though that alibi she’s currently giving you must be worth something.”
I rush him without thought, grabbing hold of his shirt and tossing him hard against the wall. “I should kick your ass for saying that about her,” I mutter.
“Go ahead and try. I know how to put up a fight,” David says, his words full of bravado but his eyes edged with fear. “Such a big reaction, dude. Truth hurts, or something along those lines, right? Be glad you’ve covered your track
s with this chick. Your luck will run out eventually.”
“You’re an asshole.” I release my hold on him and step away, watching with satisfaction as he sags against the wall, reaching up to brush the wrinkles out of his shirt front. “Not worth me getting in trouble for beating your ass.”
“Fuck off,” David says, glaring at me. “They’ll find out the truth. They’ll realize you’re the one who killed Krista and I’ll make sure of it. I’m the only one who really cares about that girl. Everyone else tossed her aside like trash, even her father.”
“What, are you saying you’re the only one who loved her?” Please. He’s the most selfish asshole I know.
“More than you ever did, that’s for damn sure. Enjoy your freedom, Fairfield. It won’t last long,” he calls after me as I start to walk away.
“Fuck you,” I mutter under my breath, pushing through the front entrance of the police station and walking out into the rain. The cold air wraps around me, stealing the oxygen from my lungs, and I tip my head back, closing my eyes as the raindrops sting my skin as they fall.
The last thing I need is David chasing after me for the rest of my life, hell-bent on proving I murdered Krista. He’s the kind of dick that would do just that, terrorizing my ass despite all the evidence thrown at him proving I didn’t do it.
I gotta get out of here. I have some money saved. I could give notice on my apartment, sell a few of mom’s things that I don’t need and put the rest in storage, quit my job, box up my shit and go. I can’t take this town anymore. The looks people give me, the whispers. I’m innocent but I may as well be guilty.
But where do I go?
***
4 p.m.
Detective Jacoby kept me in that stuffy little room for over an hour, asking me endless questions after I gave my statement, repeating many of them like he was trying to catch me in a lie, which he probably was.
Whatever. I kept my composure the entire time, explaining myself again and again. Even answering the uncomfortable questions as neutrally as possible, though I could feel my cheeks flame with embarrassment constantly.