by Harper Shaw
“Darrow should reach out to me later today. I’ll call you all tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gardner,” Rebecca’s mother sing-songed as she hooked her arm with Rebecca’s and began leading the family out of the conference room and building. “What a nice man,” she sighed. “Don’t you think he’s nice, Becca?”
“He’s nice,” Rebecca agreed.
“Do you think he’s single?”
“I think he’s my lawyer, Mom.”
“Right, right.” She sighed. “Maybe after, huh? We wouldn’t want them getting us on an ethical violation or anything. Right, Rein?”
“Your mother’s right, Rebecca. There wouldn’t be any conflict after we make them pay for even bringing up a suit.”
“I can’t believe they accused you of such a terrible thing as hurting your best friend. You did a good job today, though, and I know Monica would be proud you told the truth.”
Holding back a wince, Rebecca slid into the backseat of the car. Even though she was good at it, she felt guilty about all the lying. In her mind, the Griswalds still deserved some sort of compensation. They lost their daughter, and Rebecca knew they may have felt that loss just as much if not more than she did.
“Becca, what ever happened with Faruq?” her mother questioned, already on to the next thing.
“What do you mean what happened, Mom? We talked a little, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood.”
“Maybe you should text him and see if he’s available for dinner tonight or something.”
“You want to invite him over?”
“No, I want you two to go out somewhere nice.” Rebecca’s mother looked at her through the rearview mirror. Rebecca knew she saw the frown. “Okay, maybe not somewhere nice, but you should go somewhere you can enjoy each other’s company and talk, rekindle that flame.”
“There was never a flame to be rekindled, Mom. I like Faruq, but I’m not interested in doing anything more with him, and I know he feels the same way.”
“Oh,” her mother sighed dramatically. “You know, Reinhold, I want grandbabies, but I don’t think your daughter is going to give them to me. What do you think?”
“Leave her alone for now, Phyllis. If she says she doesn’t like Faruq, she doesn’t. You can’t force that kind of thing. She’ll find another one soon, and they’ll have kids,” her father said. Knowing what he said was no better, Rebecca rolled her eyes.
“I’m more than a breeder, you know,” she quipped.
“Of course we know that, sweetie.” Rebecca’s mother dug into her purse. She could hear the clink of her mother’s midday pick-me-up.
Get me out of this car, Rebecca thought. Closing her eyes, she thought more about the Griswalds, Monica, and about how well the deposition went.
“Hey, Mom, Dad?”
“Yes?” they replied in unison.
“How about we just settle this outside of court? This way we avoid trial, I go home sooner, and they get something at least.”
“Why should they have anything? You didn’t do anything wrong,” her father said.
“And it’d be silly for us to pay them for being petty,” her mother added.
“They at least deserve something.”
“No, they don’t.” Her father clicked the turn signal to drive onto their street.
“I know you used to love them, but don’t worry about them too much, sweetheart. They’re not worth your thoughts.”
As soon as they pulled into the driveway, Rebecca left the car and went into her bedroom. Her parents’ naïve belief that she was innocent hurt her more than it comforted her. No matter how deeply she was implicated in Monica’s death, she felt guilty and wished she could do more than stick to the lies she and the others had been telling these past ten years.
Collapsing in her bed, she closed her eyes and tried to wish everything away.
It didn’t work.
Chapter Seven
Rebecca didn’t move from staring at the ceiling.
She might have fallen asleep. Or not.
She wasn’t really sure. Seconds turned to hours turned to minutes. Or no time passed at all. Her only company was gut-wrenching guilt as she lay in her teenage bedroom.
Why was she allowed to live while Monica died?
Everybody deserved better. They all deserved better than a liar.
Her parents, Monica, Monica’s parents… hell, even Rebecca deserved better from herself.
Everything she believed in as a cop had gone by the wayside for self-preservation. She was a hypocrite, and that bothered her more than anything else.
The phone on her nightstand, the one with a separate line that she’d begged her parents to let her have in her bedroom when she was fifteen, began to ring. She ignored it.
She didn’t deserve a distraction from this guilt. She didn’t deserve to be happy while Monica was dead, and Rebecca lied to Monica’s parents under oath.
The ringing stopped, a blessing, and Rebecca closed her eyes. It might be easier just to sleep.
The phone rang again. That’s when Rebecca remembered that this phone had been set up as a separate line from the main house number. That had been another concession teenage Rebecca had wrung from her folks. Who the hell would be calling it now? A wrong number?
Her instincts told her this call was no accident.
She picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“It’s Jen.”
The name didn’t click with Rebecca, and she held the phone dumbly instead of saying anything.
“… Jennifer Wallace?”
The memories of their time together – when they were ‘the Beach Heads’ – crashed over Rebecca, hard and fast. Jennifer Wallace. The tall slender volleyball player who, despite being her best friend, had also always been kind of a bitch. Even in their closest moments, Rebecca recalled being guarded around her.
“Oh…” Rebecca said, realizing she was still on the phone and hadn’t said anything. “Hi?”
“Hey. So, I heard you’re in town for this deposition and I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch.”
Her voice sounded just as chipper and annoying as in high school. A bad taste filled Rebecca’s mouth.
High school was a long time ago. People change. You were a dick in high school and now look at you?
Lying in a deposition to save your own skin and everything.
Rebecca ignored her internal conversation. Now was not the time.
“Rebecca? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry. You caught me…” Napping? “At a busy time. I’m free now.”
“Awesome. Can I meet you at that sandwich place downtown? I think it’s changed names like five times since we left town but I’m sure it’s still there.”
“Sure… Yeah,” Rebecca said before she could really stop herself. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there in fifteen?”
“Sounds great.”
She hung up the phone.
What the fuck was that?
She’s probably just looking to reach out. Don’t assume the worst of people.
That was the trouble of being a cop. She’d seen people stoop to terrible lows. She expected the worst because humanity usually delivered. That was just how it went.
After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash her face and try to look at least somewhat presentable, she headed out the door and to the sandwich shop.
Jennifer was already there with a glass of white wine sitting in front of her.
“Hey,” Rebecca said, sitting down across from the blonde athletic star. “Long time.”
Jennifer smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
The waiter came over.
“Anything to drink?”
“Water is fine,” Rebecca said, waving her off. “Fancier than I remember.”
“Yeah. It used to just be that chain. Now it’s owned by a chef. A good one, I guess.”
Rebecca nodded and pursued the menu.
“So,” Jennifer said
, taking a sip of her wine. Rebecca ignored her, even though the need inside of her grew as she saw the wine hit her old friend’s lips. “Not drinking?”
“It’s noon,” Rebecca said absent-mindedly. “Not really a fan of drinking in the afternoon.”
“I always thought you were a prude.”
Rebecca put her menu down in front of her. Good thing she had just ordered water because this lunch wasn’t going to last long.
“What do you want?”
Her patience was wearing thin.
“What?” Jennifer answered icily, “I can’t invite an old friend to lunch?’
“I never pictured you turning into the nostalgic type. I’m busy, Jennifer. Tell me what you want or I’m leaving.”
“Awfully strong words for someone with a secret like yours.”
Rebecca stared at her. The wheels turned in her head.
“Ah. I struck a nerve.”
“No, just trying to think of what secret I have that you don’t share.”
The waiter came and busied himself with Jennifer’s wine, giving the women a chance to glare at each other silently across the table.
“Well, you could have some wine, you know…” Jennifer said once the waiter left. “I’m sure what your sponsor doesn’t know won’t kill her.”
Rebecca didn’t slap her. But she was fucking close.
“What do you mean?” she said, feigning ignorance. It came naturally. Hell, she’d been lying all morning. This one wasn’t hard.
“I think you know exactly what I mean,” she said menacingly. “Is that a thirty-day chip in your pocket? What has it been… Thirty-one or thirty-two days since you left rehab?”
The color drained from Rebecca’s face.
“Exactly,” Jennifer said. “I just wanted you to know that we know…”
“Who is we?’
She scoffed.
“You’re a cop. You’re not stupid. I think you know who we are…”
Rebecca took a moment to try and compose herself. The fact that anyone in Hilton Head knew she had been in rehab was disconcerting to say the least. The fact that Jennifer Wallace knew put it at a whole new level.
“I just wanted to remind you that you should continue on your path,” Jennifer said.
“My path to what?”
Jennifer closed her menu.
“Stop the games, Rebecca. Or I’m leaving.”
“You’re lucky I don’t slug you.”
She smiled.
“Please do. I would love nothing more than to see you in jail for doing something that fucking stupid. I’d record all the news releases, and even get a copy of your termination from El Paso PD. I’d love to hang that on my wall.”
“What do you want?” Rebecca said, trying to keep the shock and bartering out of her voice. “I haven’t done shit to you. Why did you bring me here? Just to shit all over my life. Because standing ovation, you fucking did it.”
“I just don’t want you to be getting cold feet,” Jennifer said. “So, I wanted to talk to you—woman to woman. And tell you that I knew you just got out of rehab.”
“How do you even know about that?”
Jennifer laughed.
“You think those underpaid employees at that cheap, government, rehab center can’t be bought off? If that’s a surprise, El Paso should look at their hiring process.”
“You bribed the employees?”
“And that’s the least of what I’ll do, Rebecca, if you don’t keep your mouth shut. We all agreed. All of us.”
Rebecca rose from the table.
“Bite me, Jennifer.”
“We get out of this deposition scot free and I’ll do anything you want,” Jennifer said with a smile.
Rebecca turned to leave.
“Everyone thinks the same as me,” Jennifer said. “You’re the only one cracking.”
Rebecca didn’t turn. She wanted to cause a scene, maybe throw a chair at the bitch’s head, but she stood and simply breathed.
Then she walked away.
Anxiety rose in her chest, and she barely made it to her car before the tears and the panic started to take hold.
“How did she know?” Rebecca gasped to herself. Tears rushed down her face, and the guilt returned in waves.
This was what she deserved, for what they did to Monica. They all deserved to have their lives ripped apart at the seams.
It was penance for their actions.
But someone needed to get Jennifer. For too long, she’d blackmailed and manipulated everyone around her. And frankly Rebecca was tired of it. She had to do something about Jennifer. She couldn’t let her get away with it.
With what? Covering up a murder? Because you did that too, you know. You covered it up, and now you’re pissed that your past has consequences.
“Shut up,” she mumbled out loud. “Just shut the fuck up.”
This is what you deserve. You lived, she died, and you covered it up. You deserve to be unhappy. You deserve jail. You’re a piece of shit. You know you are.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Rebecca sobbed, hanging her head against the steering wheel. “Just shut up.”
Her brain listened. For once in her life, it actually listened.
After a few minutes, Rebecca got her sobs under control. It took a few minutes more to get her breath back to normal.
Opening her eyes, she raised her head from the steering wheel.
And her eyes met Jennifer’s.
Jennifer stared at her and then held a single finger to her lips.
Shh.
Rebecca couldn’t take it anymore. Scrambling, she found her keys and slammed them into the ignition.
Whirling from the screech of her tires, she pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the street.
In her rearview mirror, she saw Jennifer watching the whole time.
Chapter Eight
Jennifer’s words left Rebecca feeling a little less safe in her position. The threat sounded a little immature and reminiscent of their high school days. Nonetheless, Rebecca was 99.999 percent sure it wasn’t a bluff and did not plan to test it out. Jennifer had always been cutthroat, especially when it came to what she wanted.
Rebecca was curious about the “others” who were supposedly on Jennifer’s side in all of this. It wasn’t as if Rebecca was going to change the story. After all, it was for her own good, too, but she decided to do a little investigating about the way Jennifer had to feel out some of the old members of her crew.
The first person she’d happened upon, and by far the easiest, was Bruce Hetfield. From what she found online, Bruce had a booming comic book store right here in Hilton Head. Since Bruce had always been sort of the odd one out, quiet and studious with a few geeky tendencies, it didn’t surprise Rebecca that he owned a comic book store now.
She wondered if he knew Jennifer was back in town and if he had anything to say about it. Walking up to the store, she noticed the windows were tinted. She opened the door and headed inside.
Some mellow rock played on the speakers in the corners, and the store contained a good number of people but wasn’t crowded. She scanned the place for Bruce but couldn’t find him. Of course, the rows of comic books were so tall it wasn’t exactly easy.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rebecca noticed two girls staring at her. Did she look out of place or something? Rebecca smiled and began toward them, wondering what information she could get out of them about Bruce’s whereabouts.
“Hi,” she said, trying to come off as friendly. “Are you a regular here?”
“You could say that.” The taller girl spoke. She was dressed in a gothy vibe, complete with black lipstick and smudged eyeliner, but the corners of her mouth were quirked up into an almost mischievous grin.
“This is one of the best places to get books, huh?”
“Bruce keeps a good collection of the Indie comics, too. All the other places are too mainstream and charge more,” the girl confirmed.
“Interesting.
Does he stock up well on the limited editions?” Rebecca wasn’t exactly versed in comic book talk, so she hoped she came off as sincere enough to not weird the girls out.
“Sometimes. It really depends on the inventory. We usually do pre-orders and stuff, though, just to make sure we order a decent amount of everything and also to pare down stuff people are less interested in.”
“Do you work here?” Rebecca asked.
“Yeah.” She handed the girl next to her a book and bid her a farewell before turning back to Rebecca. “Can I help you with something?”
“Nothing specific really. I was just looking around. This place is great. Isn’t it?”
“Um…” The girl seemed a little weirded out. “Should I know you or something?”
“No. Bruce and I are old friends, though. We go back to high school. I thought I’d come check out his shop. Do you know if he’s around?”
“Yes, but he may be busy. He’s usually out front when he’s available. Do you want me to get him for you?”
“That’d be great.”
“What’s your name?”
“Rebecca Morgan.”
“Got it.” The girl skulked away.
Humming to herself, Rebecca began to walk through one of the empty aisles of comic books. She wondered what else Bruce had been up to since she’d last seen him and tried to figure out what she was going to say to him when he came.
If Jennifer was any indication, he wasn’t going to be so happy to see her around again. Hopefully, that wasn’t the case, but she knew she had to expect the worst, even if he had been nicer back then than Jen.
“Rebecca?”
“Bruce!” Rebecca quickly walked up to Bruce. For a moment, they stood face to face and worked out an awkward introduction. She went in for a hug, and then he pulled back. “Oh, I…”
“No, no, it’s fine. Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that.” Bruce gave her a side hug and laughed it off with a clap to her back. Then he stuffed his hands firmly in his pockets, his shoulders already slumping again.
“So… How are you?” she asked.