Chapter Nineteen
I decided to call Olive. She agreed to spend the night and go to the vigil with me. I told her when she got to my house, I’d fill her in on the night that Rusck and I had, and she showed up a short while later.
“What?” Olive said, sitting opposite me cross-legged on the living room floor.
I sighed. “Yeah, that was our little adventure.”
“So, out of the blue, somebody started chasing you and Rusk and shooting at you with a shotgun? I mean, that’s just…wow. I mean, dude. I can’t believe it.”
“I can barely believe it myself,” I said, letting out a laugh.
“But why?” Olive asked, leaning in toward me for a response.
I hesitated before I answered. Did I tell her the truth? The actual reason somebody was probably chasing us? Did I tell her all the details? If I did, I was pretty sure she’d think I was messing with her, so I went with an abridged version. “Well, Rusck and I might be on to something serious, and it seems somebody doesn’t want the truth to come out.”
“On to something serious. What does that even mean?” Olive asked, crinkling up her nose.
“Well,” I said, wringing my hands, “we might’ve stumbled upon the possible existence of a serial killer.”
Olive’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes bugged out. After a few breathless seconds, she shouted, “What?”
I nodded.
“No way. How?”
Since I was avoiding the full truth, like how we became knowledgeable of the killer by way of a rabbit corpse possessed by the spirit of a dead little girl, I kind of made something up. “Got a pointer from Rusck’s brother,” I started.
“I thought he was brain dead or something.”
“No. He suffered a brain injury. And after he recovered, he decided to stay home and do school online.”
“Why were you talking to him?”
“Because I wanted to. I mean, the guy was found on the brink of death in front of my house.”
“Okay,” Olive said.
“And, and,” I stuttered. “Oh, gosh, I’m going to tell you the truth, and you’ll probably think I’m insane, but here it is anyway.” I told her the whole story. Well, almost all of it, except the part about me thinking Rusck might’ve been tied up in the whole mess somehow.
Her expression went from curious, to disbelief, to scared. She didn’t say anything as I poured out all the details. She just listened, and when I finished, she waited before she said anything. After a few minutes, I raised my eyebrows at her, and Olive sighed.
“Maybe Kevin’s family will call the police after you give them the earring, and the woods will get searched, and you won’t get shot at anymore,” Olive said, leaning back on her hands.
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
“Well, let’s go help Kevin, and hopefully helping him will somehow help the others.”
“Hopefully.”
“You know this is crazy, right?” Olive asked, standing.
“Yes, one hundred percent.”
“Let’s jet.”
“Thanks, Olive.”
Olive threw me a smile, and we were off to Grainsville.
***
We found the park where the vigil was being held and walked toward the crowd of people. Many held candles, others held hands, some wore t-shirts with Kevin’s picture, some held signs, others held each other. There was a large crowd, so many people who missed him, and some who simply wanted to show their support.
“Oh my gosh, this is really sad,” Olive whispered.
“Yeah,” I said softly.
The two of us stood in the back of the crowd. After everybody held hands and said a prayer, Kevin’s older sister stood up front and started speaking. “Um,” she said, holding back tears and taking a breath. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Kevin’s sister, Emily. So, it’s been twenty years,” she said. “Just a few blocks from here, he was going out for chicken wings with his friends. He went around the corner from the restaurant to lock up his bike, never to be seen again, but I don’t want to focus on the story of that day. I’m pretty sure everybody knows it by now. I want to focus on Kevin himself as a person, on how he was always so snarky and sarcastic and listening to his music too loud or wearing those silly shorts of his way too big. The only thing that saved them from gravity was his belt.” People in the crowd laughed, and I held back tears.
“You okay?” Olive asked.
I nodded. Kevin became all the more real to me. I even got a taste of his snarkiness that day I first met him, and I felt awful for calling him out on it.
“He was also so sweet,” Emily continued, the candle she held casting a soft glow on her face. She looked a lot like him, the same chestnut hair and green eyes. “Such a mama’s boy, even though he would never admit it.” She sniffled and wiped at the corner of her eyes. She nodded at someone standing to her side who came up as she stepped away, softly weeping. A friend of Kevin’s went next and then a couple of others.
“I’m gonna go look for his mom,” I told Olive. “You coming with?”
“I’m in this with you now, so yeah.”
We scanned the crowd, looking for his mom. I saw a picture of her in a newspaper article, so I knew who to look for. I just wasn’t seeing her.
“There’s Emily,” Olive said, pointing out Kevin’s sister.
“Maybe she knows where their mom is.”
We slowly approached Emily, waiting for her to finish talking to someone.
“Emily,” I said, walking over.
She looked up and gave me a sweet smile. “Hello.”
“Hi, um, is your mom around?”
“Yeah, somewhere,” she said pensively. “Do you know her?”
“Not really. I just wanted to talk to her.”
Emily bit her lip, looking rather unsure about me. “About?”
“About Kevin,” I said.
She crossed her arms. “Well, she’s probably about to go up there and talk right now. Want me to give her a message or something? She’ll probably be tied up for a while.”
I looked over at Olive, and she shrugged.
“I guess,” I said. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the baggie I stuck Kevin’s earring in. “Can you give this to her?”
Emily looked at me and then the baggie. “What is that?”
“Can you just give it to her? And tell her to look in the Silverton Woods of Bingley, or tell somebody to look there. The police, maybe.”
“What is going on? Who are you? Where did you get that?”
“Listen, I found this in the woods. I believe it was Kevin’s.”
“Stop messing with us. This isn’t funny,” Emily said, walking away toward a tall, skinny guy.
“Emily, wait,” I said, running up behind her, grabbing her shoulder.
“Let go of me,” she yelled, spinning around and causing enough commotion for people to start glancing in our direction.
“Just take this,” I said, holding out the baggie.
Emily snatched the baggie from me.
“What’s going on, hon?” asked the tall guy. He walked up next to her, looking over at me.
“This girl thinks she’s funny.”
“Just believe me, okay?”
“Why should I?”
In response, I did the same thumb kiss that Kevin showed me.
A cry escaped from Emily’s lips. “He would only, only, only…” she stammered. “Only do that to my mom and when he thought nobody else was looking. How do you know that?”
I didn’t say anything.
“How do you know that?” Emily screamed, full-on sobbing.
“I think you should go,” the guy with Emily told me. He then glanced over at Olive, who stood off to the side, biting the tip of her pointer finger.
“She can’t go,” Emily said. “I need to know how she knew that.” The guy nodded at me, so I knew to go, and he embraced Emily from behind in a hug.
I turned to le
ave.
“You said look in the Silverton Woods. Does that mean he’s dead? He’s dead!”
I was torn if I should turn around and answer her or just walk away. Was it better if she knew? Would it give her some kind of closure, or just break her heart even more? I was frozen in place with my back turned toward Emily, half the crowd staring at me.
Olive tapped my elbow. “C’mon.”
“I have to tell her.”
Olive raised her eyebrows at me. I nodded to Olive and turned toward Emily.
“Yeah,” I said, answering Emily softly.
“But how do you know?” she asked through a flood of tears.
“I just do.” And with that, Olive and I walked through the crowd with their mouths agape and staring at us. Once through the crowd, we ran to the car. I totally broke down once I got in the passenger seat.
“That pretty much sucked,” Olive said.
“It really did,” I said through my tears. “Did I do the right thing by telling her he’s gone?”
“Maybe,” Olive said, looking over at me as we drove away.
“He didn’t deserve to die.”
Olive sighed. “He didn’t.”
The rest of the car ride home was silent. I was so sad for Kevin and his family and the rest of the kids. I truly wanted to help bring them some kind of peace.
***
Just as I dozed off that evening, ever so quietly, I heard a thank you over my shoulder.
“You’re welcome, Kevin,” I whispered.
Chapter Twenty
I considered staying home but then decided against it because I hoped school would keep my brain distracted for a bit from everything that was going on. It was also the twenty-second, and I didn’t know what to do. Since Olive spent the night, she gave me a lift. As we walked down the hall, I noticed a couple of glances in my direction.
“Word on your and Rusck’s little adventure might be out,” Olive said.
“Great,” I said under my breath.
Once at my locker, Ryan and Sarah bounded up.
“Bunny Boy went crazy, tried to kidnap you and dump you in the woods?” Ryan asked, bouncing on his toes.
“What? No. Where’d you hear that?”
“There are many assorted rumors and theories going around about what happened,” Sarah informed me.
“How? It just happened the other night.”
“You both being absent yesterday really sparked the rumor mill, and this morning there was a newspaper article,” Ryan said with a nod.
“In the newspaper?” I looked over at Olive.
She shrugged.
“Does the article mention our names?” I asked.
“No,” Sarah said. “I think because you’re minors, but everybody kind of put two and two together.”
“So, what did happen? If you don’t mind me asking.” Ryan bit his lip and raised an eyebrow at me.
“Rusck and I were in the woods, and somebody started shooting at us, and that’s pretty much it. Nobody had a psychotic break.”
“Are you okay?” Ryan asked with concern written all over his face.
“Yeah.”
“And Rusck?”
“He’ll be okay.”
“Wow,” Sarah said. It seemed Sarah pretty much summed it up.
Olive, Ryan, and Sarah all went off to their first class, and I stood in front of my locker, wondering if my mom talked to the newspaper, but if she did, knowing her, she said “no comment.”
I undid my lock and pulled open the door, but as I was about to throw my books inside, a putrid odor infiltrated my nostrils, and my chest tightened. I glanced down and found the cause of my unease, and I screamed. Standing in front of my locker with the door open, I belted it out. My books fell to the floor, and my arms hung limply at my side. Anyone who was left in the hall either turned toward my screaming or walked over to my locker to see what the fuss was about. Teachers and some students emerged from the classrooms. I finally stopped screaming when a teacher put his hand on my shoulder. He asked me what was wrong, but my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I only pointed to my locker.
“Dear god,” the teacher, who I believed was named Mr. Mooney, said, gasping.
In my locker lay a rabbit that appeared to have had its brains blown out by a shotgun, or some sort of gun. Brains and blood splattered patterns all over the inside of my locker. The rabbit’s dead eyes were open and looking at me with the tip of its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. It lay on a hoodie. It looked like the one Rusck always wore. There was probably way more than just one gray hoodie out there, but it seemed awfully coincidental.
Mr. Mooney took me by the shoulders and guided me off to the side. I leaned up against a wall, slid down, and gawked at my locker with my mouth hanging wide open. Mr. Mooney’s loose, flappy, white skin under his chin jiggled as he started yelling at everyone to get to class, and a couple of teachers ran off to get whoever would handle the current situation.
What more could happen? The events from the past week were enough to traumatize anybody. Somebody was sending me an exceptionally strong message. I wanted to say “message received” and give up, but I knew in my heart I couldn’t back down. Trying to get my thoughts together helped get my mind back on track, away from the rabbit in my locker, and then I almost started crying thinking Rusck could somehow be the mastermind behind some of what was going on.
The resource officer on duty came running down the hall. He had a few words with Mr. Mooney, and then Mr. Mooney pointed at me. He walked over to me, putting his hands on his knees, partially squatting down. I didn’t bother standing up.
“This is going to get cleaned up, and while that is being taken care of, Officer Conrad is going to talk to you for a bit. Is that okay?” Mr. Mooney asked, puckering his lips and giving me puppy dog eyes. I was thinking he was going for a sympathetic look.
I nodded and stood. Mr. Mooney grabbed my elbow and helped guide me to my feet. Officer Conrad waved over his shoulder, and I followed him down the hall. He was a younger black guy with a hint of a mustache and some impressive biceps. I wondered if I should come clean and tell him everything, just get it out there. Tell him somebody with a shovel threw a big rock at Rusck, that we suspected whoever shot at us in the forest was connected to the rock thrower, and now the rabbit in my locker, which I was thinking was shot with the same type of shell that Rusck was shot with. And did I dare mention the rabbit lay on what I believed to be Rusck’s hoodie?
I decided not to tell Officer Conrad much. I wasn’t sure why not, but maybe thinking I could somehow find proof of Rusck not being involved, or maybe I’d be able to find the killer by myself, but whatever I thought, all I told Officer Conrad was that I went to my locker, opened it up, and found a rabbit with its brains blown out.
He didn’t ask too many questions. Probably because he thought I was kind of traumatized, which in a way worked to my advantage because I got to go home early. Usually, you had to wait for an adult to come pick you up from school if you had to leave early, but I guessed it was such an awful thing that had happened, the principal sympathetically nodded after she was filled in by Officer Conrad, and I was able to go.
I gave Officer Conrad a wave and let myself into the house. Pulling off my jacket, I sat down in the middle of the living room, leaning back on my elbows. I closed my eyes, trying to find a sense of calm because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, which I hadn’t even realized until then, but all I saw when I did close my eyes was exploded rabbit brains. I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep because of the image, and I couldn’t sit there and do nothing, so I decided to hop on my bike to go visit Rusck. He had some explaining to do.
***
I checked in with the nurse at the receptionist desk and headed toward Rusck’s room. I slowed as I went down the hall because there was a flourish of bodies outside the door to his room. His mom stood crying with her hands over her face. There was also a security guard and a few nurses. I took in the scene and cauti
ously approached.
“Mrs. Almeida?” I said, walking over to Rusck’s mother.
She dropped her hands from her face. Smears of mascara were under her puffy, red eyes. “Is he with you?” she asked desperately.
“Who? What’s going on? I just came to see Rusck.”
“Then he’s not with you?” Mrs. Almeida asked curtly.
“Rusck?”
“Yes, Rusck.”
“No. Why would he be with me?”
“Because he’s missing,” Mrs. Almeida said with a whimper.
“What?”
“Yes, missing. Somehow, my son is missing from the hospital.”
“But how?”
“They think he just walked out.”
That sure as hell was not good news.
I went and sat on a bench in front of the hospital, trying to figure out my next move. Rusck missing meant one of two things. One was that he was abducted and was perhaps the next victim, but that probably wasn’t likely if he left by himself as some reported. The second thing was that he was up to something, and my suspicions about him were more than likely true, which didn’t make me exceptionally happy. I honestly liked him, but him being involved in some sort of cover-up plot involving murdered children, well, that didn’t make him all that desirable anymore.
I needed answers, which I hoped to get from Rusck, but that wasn’t going to happen. Mr. Pullman was my next option. At least I finally knew his name, so that was something to go on. I pulled out my phone and found an online directory and scanned all the local Pullmans, hoping one of the addresses belonged to the landlord. A sneaking suspicion, or general logic, told me he didn’t live that far away. I typed a few of the addresses into a map finder on my phone and decided I’d start with the one closest to me. It was a few miles away from the hospital, but only about six blocks from my house. I hopped on my bike and pedaled off.
Mr. Pullman lived in a green cape cod with peeling paint and gutters hanging on for dear life. I knew it was his house because his truck was, unfortunately, in the driveway. I was going to have to wait him out because I had no intention of speaking to him. I just planned on letting myself into his house. I stayed on my bike and rode it a couple of blocks over and found a light pole to lock it up to. When I walked back to his house, I squatted behind some bushes across the street and hoped the residents of the house were not home.
The Answers Are In The Forest Page 12