by McKayla Box
I set the cup back on the nightstand and wait.
He swallows again and looks at me. “It wasn't me.”
“You're saying you didn't tell the police it was Trevor?” I ask.
He nods slowly, like his head weighs a million pounds.
“Then why did they arrest him?” I ask.
He clears his throat. “Matt. Saw him.”
Matt Wheeler. Gina's hook up.
But it still doesn't make sense.
“Do you know when it happened?” I ask.
“One,” he manages.
“One in the morning?”
He nods.
I do the math in my head. “Derek, you need to listen to me. I hate you and you hate me, but you really need to listen to me.”
He looks at me.
“I was with Trevor then,” I tell him. “We were already back at his house. If you're saying that's when it happened, it absolutely wasn't Trevor.”
His eyes shift downward and he frowns.
“Listen to me, okay?” I say. “I have no idea what's going on, but someone is lying. I don't know why, but someone is lying. And believe it or not, I actually don't think it's you.”
And I really don't. He's a mess and I don't think he has it in him to come up with some story just to stick it to Trevor. He's hurting in every way, but he's in ho shape to put together some revenge plan against Trevor.
“I'm not sure what Matt thinks he saw or what he told the police, but he's dead wrong,” I say. “And the bottom line for you is that means that whoever did this to you isn't being punished for you.” I hold up my hands. “I'm telling you, Derek. There isn't a mark on Trevor and we were back at his house by then. It wasn't him. I swear to god it wasn't him.”
He raises his eyes from his lap, like he's studying me.
I stare back at him. “I'm not lying, Derek. Think about it. You tried to start shit earlier that night. If he was going to fight you, he would've done it then.” I tap my temple with my index finger. “Think about it. None of it makes sense. None of it.”
He looks away for a moment, then shifts in the bed. His face ties up in pain and he lets out a sound that sounds like a small animal getting kicked. It takes him a few seconds to relax. He turns in my direction.
“Then who?” he whispers.
I pick up the cup and put the straw to his lips again. He takes a longer drink, then I set it back on the nightstand.
I look at him.
“I don't know,” I tell him. “But I'm going to fucking find out.”
NINETEEN
I thank Derek's housekeeper for letting me see him and see myself out. I call Trevor as soon as I reach the car, but it goes right to voicemail. I check my own voicemail and Brett called me back. I touch his name on the phone and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey,” he says. “Sorry, I was with my dad earlier when you called.”
“It's fine.”
“You talk to Trev?”
“I saw him at the police station,” I tell him. “Where are you?”
“Home. Why?”
“Can you meet me? Something's all fucked up.”
“Yeah. Where and when?”
I tell him.
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“I'll be there in fifteen minutes,” he says.
We hang up and I start my car. I scroll through my texts and find Bridget's name. True to her word, she's sent me an address for Matt Wheeler. I plug it into my GPS.
It takes me thirteen minutes to find his house. It's a long, sprawling ranch, with a big yard in front and a cobblestone driveway. There's a massive flower garden under the main window, filled with red and yellow roses. There's a red BMW in the driveway and a bike up against the garage door.
Brett pulls up two minutes later, parking behind me. I watch him in the rearview as he gets out and comes around to the passenger side. I unlock the door and he gets in.
“Hey,” he says, out of breath. “You beat me here.” He glances at the house. “The fuck are we doing here?”
“I saw Derek,” I tell him.
“You what?”
“I went to his house,” I say. “He's literally in the pool house.”
“Jesus,” he says. “You okay?”
I nod. “I'm fine. But he says he didn't see who attacked him. He says Matt told the cops it was Trevor.”
Brett frowns. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, exactly,” I say. “I wanna know why he's lying.”
Brett nods. “Okay. So, what do we do? You want me to drag his ass out here?”
I shake my head. “No. We don't need anymore bullshit than we've already got. I just wanna go talk to him.”
“Then what do you need me for?” Brett asks.
I push my door open. “To keep me from killing him when he tells me why he's lying.”
Brett gets out of the car and follows me up to the door. I stab the doorbell with my finger and it rings incessantly on the other side, like it's stuck or broken. Footsteps echo behind the door and then it opens.
I immediately recognize Matt. Short, brown hair. Oval face. Ears a little too big for his head. He's wearing a Sunset High football T-shirt and baggy basketball shorts. He was standing with Derek on the other side of the fire at the party.
And he doesn't look thrilled to see us standing on his doorstep.
“We wanna talk to you,” I tell him.
He glances at Brett. “I don't have anything to say to you.”
“I doubt that,” Brett says.
“I know you're lying,” I say. “I wanna know why.”
He shuffles his feet on the other side of the door. “I'm not lying about anything.”
“Trevor was already gone from the beach when Derek was attacked,” I say. “He was with me. I talked to Derek and he told me what time it happened.”
Matt licks his lips. “Derek doesn't know what's going on. He's in bad shape.”
“I know he is,” I say. “I just saw him at his house.”
He can't hide his surprise. “You saw him?”
I nod.
“Seriously, dude,” Brett says, keeping his voice down. “Either get out here and talk to us or I'm coming in and dragging your ass out here.”
“I don't have to talk to you,” Matt says.
“One way or another, you're going to,” Brett says. “I'll rip the fucking door off if I have to.”
Matt looks scared and I don't blame him.
Brett sounds furious.
Matt looks over his shoulder, then pushes the door open and comes outside. He motions to the driveway and the three of us walk in that direction.
“My mom's home,” he says. “I don't want her hearing any of this.”
“Why are you lying?” I ask.
He puts his hands in the pockets of his shorts, but doesn't say anything.
“You've got like five seconds, man,” Brett growls.
Matt sighs. “I know it wasn't Trevor. I was there when it happened.”
Finally. Someone tells the truth.
“Bobby was already gone,” he says. “It was me and Derek. We were both a little drunk.” He glances at Brett. “He was talking about coming back to fight you after you threw the bottle at him.”
“He should've,” Brett says.
“Well, I told him not to,” Matt says. “I knew he'd get his ass kicked if he did. But he was drunk and not thinking right. Whatever. I was trying to get him to leave. And then...” His voice trails off.
“And then what?” I ask.
“And then it all just went to shit,” he says. “I didn't see anyone coming. They were on us before either one of us could do anything. I was face down in the sand and I couldn't even move. I couldn't see anything.” He rubs at his chin. “All I could hear was Derek getting the shit kicked out of him.” He shakes his head. “I mean, really getting the shit kicked out of him.”
“I saw him,” I remind him. “I know he's messed up.”
Matt nods slowly. “Yeah.”
“I could give a shit about your pal,” Brett says. “Who the fuck did it and why the fuck are you telling everyone Trevor did it?”
Matt looks down at the driveway for a second. “I'm face down in the sand. I mean, I can barely breathe. Somebody's on top of me, pinning me down. I finally get my face out of the sand so I can breathe.” He glances at Brett. “I thought it was you or Jake.”
“It wasn't,” Brett growls.
“I know,” he says, nodding. “I said I thought it was. I'm trying to explain here.”
“Do a better fucking job,” Brett snaps.
I put my hand on his arm. “Let him talk.”
Brett glares at him, but he doesn't say anything.
“Like I said,” Matt says. “I was pinned down. I couldn't move. Someone was on my back and holding me there. I got my face out of the sand so I could at least breathe. I've sand and shit in my mouth and eyes, but I can see Derek and it's...not good. He's getting seriously fucked up.”
“By who?” I ask.
“I couldn't tell at first,” Matt says. “It was dark. I was drunk. I had sand in my eyes and I was scared shitless. All I really know is that Derek's taking a beating. Then it gets sort of quiet. Derek's just laying there in the sand, moaning.” He shakes his head. “It was fucking terrible.”
“Yeah, a real fucking shame that Derek Morgan took a fucking beating,” Brett says.
“Stop,” I say, looking at him.
Brett shakes his head and looks away.
“So I'm thinking I'm next,” Matt says. “Whoever's on top of me is digging their knees into my back and my arms are pinned to the ground and I just figure I'm fucked. I'm gonna end up laying in the sand next to Derek. At this point, I can see him bleeding and he's not making anymore sounds.” He runs a hand over his hair. “I honestly thought he might be dead.”
It's weird feeling sorry for Derek, but I do. I didn't think that was possible after what he did to me, but I actually do have this weird sort of sympathy for what happened to him. It surprises me.
“Then I see feet,” Matt continues. “My head's being held down on the sand, so I can't even look up. All I can see is the feet coming toward me. I hear some laughing. I'm thinking it's going to start with the feet kicking me or whatever. So I tense up and get ready for it.” He swallows hard. “But the feet just stand right by my face. It was actually worse that he wasn't doing anything. He was drawing it out and it just made it worse because I kept thinking of all the things that were going to happen to me.” He takes a deep breath, then exhales. “But he didn't kick at me or anything like that. He finally squats down. And I can see his face.”
“Who was it?” I ask.
Matt looks at Brett first, then me. “It was Kane Tressle.”
TWENTY
Goosebumps rise on my neck when I hear his name and I need to make sure I heard him right.
“It was Kane?” I ask. “He was the one that beat up Derek?”
Matt hesitates, then nods.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Brett says.
“He was squatting down beside me,” Matt explains. “He does this weird thing where he puts his hand on my face and pushes me down into the sand as hard as he can. I can't explain it, but it scared the shit out of me. Then he sort of leans down so I can see his face.” He pauses. “It was Kane. I still don't know who was on my back or who else was there, but it was definitely Kane.”
“So why the fuck didn't you tell the cops that?” Brett snarls, stepping toward him. “Why the fuck did you lie?”
I put my hand on his chest. “Let him talk.” I look at Matt. “Keep going.”
Matt watches Brett. He's afraid. And I don't blame him. Brett looks ready to snap.
“He asks me if I see what happened to Derek,” Matt says. “He's sort of laughing about it. I can barely talk he's pushing so hard on my face. I've got like one eye in the sand.” He shakes his head. “But he asks if I see what's happened to Derek. I say yeah or something like that. I can't even remember. He nods, like he's glad about that.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Then he says that he saw it, too. And that it was Trevor Robinson that did it.”
Brett shakes his head and turns away, barely able to contain himself.
“It takes me a minute to understand what he's saying,” Matt says. “At first, I'm thinking that he means Trevor was really there and that they did it together. But I realize that doesn't make any sense at all. And I say no he didn't. You did.” Matt looks down at the ground. “That was a mistake.”
“That was the mistake?” Brett says. “That was it?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“It pissed him off,” Matt says. “And he just starts pushing harder on my face, pushing it into the sand. He starts saying how if he pushes hard enough, it'll snap my jaw. Or maybe I'll suffocate in the sand. I literally can't move. The guy on top of me has me completely pinned and I can't move. I just start panicking.” He shakes his head. “So I just yelling okay. Okay.” He pauses. “I tell him I saw Trevor do it.”
I take a deep breath, trying to keep myself calm. I know Brett is ready to explode, so one of us needs to stay composed.
“He eases off my face when I say that,” Matt says. “He, like, pats my head, says something about being a good boy.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Then he says that I'm going to tell the police that I saw Trevor attack Derek. And that I never saw him there.”
“You never saw Kane,” I say, clarifying.
He nods. “Yeah.”
“And you just did it?” Brett says angrily. “Because he told you to?”
Matt shakes his head. “No. He's still patting my head and he tells me if I don't do it, the same thing that he did to Derek, he'll do to me.”
“So fucking what?” Brett snaps. “You fucking coward.”
“Let me finish,” Matt says. He glances back toward his front door. “You know Kane's dad?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“He runs this this marketing company,” Matt explains. “It's pretty big. They do all sorts of social media advertising and stuff like that.” He pauses. “My mom works for him.”
I don't say anything, but I think I see where it's going.
“My parents are divorced and my dad doesn't pay for shit,” Matt says. “Nothing. My mom's job is all she has and all we have for income. She can't lose that job.” He glances toward the house again. “And Kane apparently knew that my mom works for his dad. Because he told me if I said anything, he'd make sure she lost her job.”
Brett sighs and shakes his head.
“I didn't know what to do,” Matt says. “I was panicked and he was freaking me out. I honestly thought Derek might be dead because he was just laying there in the sand, not making a sound. I thought he might kill me. That dude is fucking crazy.” He shrugs. “So I just said okay. He patted my head again and just stared at me for a long time. Then he stood up, told me not to move for five minutes, and then I could get up. I counted the five minutes in my head and I finally sat up.” He looks at me. “He was gone.”
Brett just shakes his head, but he doesn't say anything.
“You can't do that, Matt,” I say. “You can't just do what he says because he threatened you. I get it that you're scared and that you're worried about your mom, but you aren't being...rational. And I'm telling you right now. I can prove Trevor wasn't there. And when the cops figure that out, that he wasn't really there?” I look at him. “They're going to want to know why you lied to them and I'm not sure they're going to care what your reasons are.”
“I know,” he says.
“You know?” I ask, confused. “Then why are we standing here? Why was Trevor arrested?”
He takes a deep breath. “I knew when I did it, it was wrong. Okay? I know right from wrong. But I panicked. I don't care what you think of me. I was scared shitless and worried about my mom. I fucked up. Whatever.” He stubs his toe against the driveway. “But it's bothered
me ever since I talked to the police. I haven't slept. I haven't eaten. I know I lied and it's making me sick. I didn't think I'd be able to do it, but it was like the police wanted me to tell them it was Trevor, so they sort of made it easy.”
“I bet they did,” Brett mutters.
“But I felt sick as soon as they left,” Matt says. “I haven't stopped thinking about.” He pauses. “I'm going to tell them it wasn't Trevor. I don't know how how or what I'm going to say, but I'm going to tell them it wasn't him.”
A small sliver of hope invades my thoughts for the first time in awhile. “You will?”
“Yeah,” Matt says. “I will.”
“Today,” Brett says. “You're doing it today.”
Matt hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. I will.”
I'm relieved to hear that he's going to tell the truth.
“I'm not sure I'm going to tell them it was Kane, though,” Matt says.
“What?” I say. “How?”
“I'm just going to tell them I lied,” he says. “I'm going to tell them we fought with Trevor earlier and I was pissed, so I gave them Trevor's name.” He glances at Brett. “The first part is true.”
“But the second part isn't,” I say.
He thinks for a moment, then nods. “I know. But that's the best I can do. I feel like if I give them Kane's name, I'm completely fucked. If I at least leave his name out of it, maybe I'm only partially fucked.”
His logic is terrible, but I get that he's afraid. I can't worry about him, though. I only care about Trevor.
“That's fucking stupid,” Brett says. “But I don't care what you do. Just tell them Trevor didn't do it. You can deal with the rest of it however you want. But you have to tell them you lied about Trevor.”
Matt nods. “I will.”
“When?” I ask.
“Today,” he says. “I'll talk to them today.”
“How about fucking now?” Brett says, not bothering to hide his anger. “How about if you stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself and go tell the cops you fucking lied and they arrested the wrong guy?”