“Thanks,” he murmured, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs and not meeting my eyes.
“Stephen, you’re allowed to cry. You lost both your parents.”
He shook his head and stood up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He stepped into the aisle. I shot Meredith a bewildered look. She shrugged back helplessly. We followed behind him, and I wished the confident, flirtatious Stephen from an hour ago would come back. Now he seemed like a shadow of his former self.
“I better get to class,” Meredith said. “I’ll call you.”
“Even better,” I said, catching her arm before she could leave, “come over. I’ll pick you up after work.”
Surprise flashed in her eyes, and then she nodded. “Sure. And I’ll get Trey’s number for you.”
“Thanks.” I waved as she went down another hallway.
Stephen fished a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slipped them on before we walked past the teachers still guarding the doors. I saw from the looks the teachers exchanged that Stephen wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Well,” he said as we entered the mostly empty hallway, “I think I’ll go home.”
He shouldn’t be alone right now. I knew it instinctively. “Why?”
“Why stay here? It’s pointless.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “If you stay, I’ll swing by after work and hang out for a bit.”
“Really?” One eyebrow quirked up. “Homeboy gonna be okay with that?”
An icy finger of dread tickled the back of my neck. I could only assume he meant Aaron, and no, he wouldn’t be okay with it. But I couldn’t let something bad happen to Stephen. “Sure. He trusts me.” Not. At. All.
“I’ll stay, then,” Stephen said.
*~*
I had been at work for an hour when Beth texted me to say she needed a ride home. I told Mr. Edwards I had to leave to pick her up, and he gave me the rest of the day off. I promised to make up the hours over the weekend. I sent a quick message to Meredith, telling her I’d be at her house early. Then I stopped by the middle school to grab Beth.
“What happened to your normal ride home?” I asked.
She ignored me and instead plopped in her earbuds and stared out the window. She didn’t yank them out until after I pulled up to the curb in front of Meredith’s house. My hand pumped the horn, and Meredith came out.
“Are you going somewhere?” Beth asked. “Can I come?”
“We’re just going home,” I said as Meredith hopped into the backseat.
“Actually,” Meredith said, out of breath, “I have something that might interest you.” She held out a slip of paper.
“Me?” Beth reached for it.
“No, dummy,” I said, snatching it first. “Me.”
“For the love of sprinkles.” Beth rolled her eyes and slipped the buds in again.
“What is this?” I scanned the paper with a sloppy address and phone number on it.
“Trey wasn’t in school,” Meredith said, leaning over the console between the two front seats. “But it only took a little sneaking around the office to get that.”
“This is his address!” I squealed.
“Yep.” She bounced on the seat beneath her. “Let’s go.”
The earbuds popped out again. “Let me come,” Beth said. “You won’t even know I’m there.”
I exchanged a look with Meredith. “Not possible, babe,” I said. “I’ll run you home first.”
“Besides, it’ll be boring,” Meredith said. “We’re just doing some research. Investigating.”
Normally those words might have thrown Beth off our trail, but today she wasn’t thwarted. “Research? For the suicides?” She swung to me. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re investigating those deaths.”
“Listen, Beth, I’ll tell you all about it later,” I promised. “Right now, I’ve got to take you home.”
“Fine, but you better tell me everything,” Beth threatened.
I waved her off, ignoring her glares on the short drive to our house.
“I’ll be waiting,” Beth said, climbing out of the passenger side.
I didn’t bother with an answer.
“Must be nice to have a sister,” Meredith said. “I just have a little brother, and he’s a pain in the rear.”
I could only imagine. Having a brother had never been high on my list of aspirations. Boyfriends were enough trouble. “You have a smart phone?”
“Yep.”
I handed her back the paper with the address. “Lead me.”
I followed Meredith's instructions to an older section of town. We pulled up at a bungalow-style house. A rusted swing set littered the over-grown grass in the front yard. Paint peeled from the uninviting front door. It was nothing I’d expected. The private school Trey had gone to costs loads of money.
“Are you sure about this? I mean, it’s always good to show compassion and friendship and all, but maybe we’re not welcome here.” Uncertainty showed on Meredith’s face. Her lips turned downward and her brows furrowed together.
“We’ve got to find out,” I murmured.
“What, exactly?”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t quite sure myself. Instead, I opened the car door. “You can stay if you want.”
“No, wait, I’m coming!” She popped out of the car, pushing her glasses higher on her nose. “You can’t leave me here.”
I suppressed a smile and led the way up the cracked sidewalk to the house. We reached the front door, and I tried the doorbell.
“I think it’s broken,” Meredith said. “I didn’t hear anything.”
I knocked. Still no response. Maybe I’d knocked too lightly. I banged my first harder this time, wincing at the sharp pain in my knuckles.
“Coming, coming,” a worn voice called from inside. The door opened, and a woman stood there. She couldn’t have been any older than my mother, but her skin was sallow with age. Brittle pieces of bleached hair hung in strings around her face, and she scratched at a sore on her mouth.
Meredith shifted behind me, and I felt her apprehension. “Um, hi,” I said, pasting a smile on my face and trying to look cheery, sympathetic, and friendly all at once. “I’m Jayne Lockwood and this is Meredith Finley. We’re from Lacey Township High.”
“What do you want?” Her voice wasn’t mean or angry, just tired. Too tired to show much interest.
I worked hard to keep the smile on my face. “Are you Trey’s mom?”
She nodded, one hand rubbing absentmindedly at her shoulder.
I quickly spun a story, one that I could hopefully make a truth. “Meredith and I are in Trey’s journalism class. We heard what happened to him and just wanted to say hi, show some support. Is that allowed? Would that be all right?”
Her face softened a bit. “That’s kind of you girls. It’s good to know he has such nice friends.”
I elbowed Meredith, trying to get her to say something.
“Of course,” she blurted. “Such a great kid.”
“Well, he’s not here. They’re holding him until he has a psych eval.”
I blanched, horrified at the idea. “Really?”
“Come on in.” Mrs. Clark shoved the door open and went back in the house.
“Do we really want to go in there?” Meredith whispered. “I mean, really? I don’t know, it looks so dark and grimy. . . .”
I left Meredith on the porch discussing the disadvantages of going inside and followed Trey’s mom into an unlit entryway. The house had an odd smell, like a musty room that’d been closed up for years. And maybe mildew. All the curtains were drawn, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust enough to see Mrs. Clark.
She seated herself on a sheet-covered sofa and lit up a cigarette. “You girls are Trey’s friends?”
Guilt twisted the insides of my stomach. “Um, yeah.” Not exactly. I stole another glance around the dark living room. Suddenly I wasn’t sure Trey needed an excuse to go insane. This didn�
��t exactly look like a happy home.
The couch sagged beside me, and I glanced over as Meredith joined me. I tapped her thigh, grateful she’d come in.
Mrs. Clark took a puff of her cigarette, holding her breath for a moment before exhaling. “Did Trey say anything to you girls? Did you know what was going on?”
I hesitated. “I really had no idea, Mrs. Clark. I didn’t see it coming.”
Her lower lip trembled, and she pressed a hand to her cheek. “He didn’t say anything about his friends from his old school?”
I bluffed. “They’re the ones who were a bad influence, right?”
She nodded. “Yes.” A fire lit in her eyes. “They were the ones responsible for the incident. Somehow they framed him. He didn’t say as much, but I’m sure this was all their fault.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.” My fingers smoothed the edges of the couch. “Can we see him?”
She took another puff of her cigarette and shook her head. “Family only right now. But I can let him know you came by. And I’ll add you to the guest list as soon as he’s allowed to have visitors.”
“Could you?” I said, though I wondered how Trey would react.
“Here.” She grabbed a notepad and slid it toward me. “Write him a note. I’ll take it to him tomorrow when I visit.”
“Thanks.” I pulled out a pen and hesitated, and then scribbled, Hey Trey, it’s Jayne from fifth hour. Sorry to intrude on your personal life. I thought of my questions, but suddenly they seemed inappropriate. Stay strong and you’ll pull through this.
I handed the notepad back. “Oh, here’s my phone number.” I added it to the bottom of the note. “Will you call me if there are any updates?”
She gave a brief nod. “Sure.”
Exhaling, I stood up and wiped my hands on my jeans. My throat choked up, and I needed a breath of fresh air badly. “Thanks for your time.”
She stood as well. “No, thank you. I’m glad he’s made friends. He can be so—distant.”
“Yeah.” My face ached from holding the smile.
“Bye,” Meredith said. Together we backed our way out of the house.
“Well,” I said, getting in the car.
“Yep,” Meredith agreed.
My phone buzzed on the dash. I snatched it up, my heart racing with the hope that it would be Aaron. Instead, Stephen’s name marched across the screen. I grimaced, tossing it to the dash before pulling back into traffic. I felt Meredith’s eyes on me, but I didn’t return her gaze. We stopped at a red light, and she cleared her throat.
“So it looks like something strange is going on.”
“Really?” I lifted both eyebrows innocently, even as I groaned inside. Criminy. Now I’d have to verbalize what was going on between me and Aaron—and me and Stephen. “Like what?”
“First the suicides, now the duck massacre. I’ve heard about other animal sacrifices, too. Like something wicked plopped itself down in Lacey Township. But more than that, I don’t know, you seem awfully—involved in it. Almost like you’re taking this personally. Like you know what’s going on. Do you?”
Those certainly weren’t the questions I’d expected, and they caught me off my guard. “Um,” I answered, my mind racing for a cohesive answer.
“Yeah, the right answer would have been ‘no.’” She leaned toward me. “Is this a cult, Jayne? Did you escape them or something?”
I laughed and chewed on my fingernails. “No.”
“But you do know something.”
I hesitated, then said, “The police showed me a note from the evidence room.”
“What?” she furrowed her brow and blinked like my words made no sense to her.
I twirled a hand in impatience. “One of the men who died. I looked through his wallet and found a note. It looked like part of a poem. I’ve never heard of it, but maybe you would know it. You’re into poetry, right?”
The light turned green, and I drove us through the intersection.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’d recognize every poem ever written.”
I gestured to my flip phone. “Go through the pictures. See if you know it.”
She picked it up. “How do you work this—oh. There we go.” She uttered a small gasp.
“What?” I swerved the car, jerking my head around. “Did I almost hit something?”
“No. Sorry.” She closed my phone, her face visibly paler. “Where did you say you got that?”
“From the police. Do you know where it came from?”
“Why did the police show it to you?”
I chewed my lower lip. “I—help them sometimes.”
“Because of work?”
“And personal reasons,” I said.
“But why?” she said, and this time her voice held a commanding note to it. “Why are you so interested in these suicides?”
I glanced at her, and before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Do you know anything about Latvian mythology?”
“Who what?” she replied.
We pulled into her driveway, and she grabbed my arm. “Jayne? What’s going on?”
I took a deep breath and turned to face her. “I need you to look something up for me. Get online and find out everything you can about Dekla, Karta, and Laima.”
Meredith pulled out a pen and paper. “Write that down. I can’t Google something if I have no idea how to spell it. What exactly do I need to find out—”
I interrupted her, grabbing the paper from her hand. “Just write down anything interesting, anything you learn. I want to see what you come up with.” I jotted down the names and handed it back to her. “Call me when you have something.”
“Okay.” She looked at me strangely, then opened the passenger door. “I’ll call you.”
I sat down at the kitchen table when I got home, a plate of sliced apples and peanut butter for my after-school snack. Beth poked her head out of the den.
“Is that you, Jayne?”
“No,” I called back, biting into an apple.
She popped up the step between the den and the living room. “Okay, spill it. You promised you’d tell me what’s going on.”
I slid my backpack in front of me and fumbled around for my math homework. “It was nothing. Meredith and I went to visit a kid from school who got arrested. We just wanted to make sure he’s okay.”
“That’s it?” Beth scowled at me, hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
I shrugged. When I offered nothing more, Beth spun on her heel and returned to the den.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Good to be home,” I muttered, feeling completely listless and unmotivated. I tried to concentrate on my math assignment. Math was my worst subject and difficult on a good day. Today, when I was distracted, it was nearly impossible.
And suddenly I was reliving the first time Aaron came to my house. He helped me with my math homework, teasing me and befuddling my thoughts so much I couldn’t even concentrate on punching numbers into the calculator.
I picked up my phone and turned it over, half-expecting it to show me some new and marvelous revelation. Where was he now? My heart ached to think we were still fighting. I thumbed through my contact list, pausing on Laima’s name. On impulse, I pressed the Call button and put the phone to my ear. We’d only spoken once, when I had a near-death experience. Surely there were other ways to get her attention.
The phone stopped ringing, and a dissonant tone played. “You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is . . .”
I didn't wait for the rest of it. I shut the phone and stared at it. I knew Laima’s number worked; I texted her all the time. So why couldn’t it receive calls? Was it some sort of weird magical goddess thing?
I still hadn’t heard from Aaron, and it was eating me up. With a sigh, I gave in and pressed his number. I held my breath as it rang, my heart pounding a little harder with each second.
It’s fine, I told myself. He might be in class. Or somewhere.
His tone was gruff, abrasive. Not at all the eager, happy voice I’d hoped for. “Hey,” I said, and then fell silent. I played with my pencil.
“Hey,” he replied.
Should I apologize? I cleared my throat and decided to pretend all was well between us. “I think I have a lead on the suicides. Two leads, maybe.” When he didn’t respond, I jumped into my ideas. “First, I found this poem at the police station. If I can figure out what it’s from, I might have some clues. Second—”
“A poem, Jayne?” he interrupted. “What do you think that’s going to prove? That one of the guys who committed suicide was a sappy romantic? Poor fellow. And what were you doing at the police station? Leave this to the pros. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
I took a sharp intake of breath, my words falling away at his rebuke. I blinked, clutching the phone to my ear with both hands, stunned. Aaron had never spoken to me that way, and there were so many innuendos in his words that it would take time to fully analyze them. Rallying, I said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence. But also there’s this kid in school who was arrested, and I think if I could just talk to him, I might—”
“You think,” he snapped, impatience lacing his voice. “You might. Theories. Ideas. None of it amounts to anything.”
If he was trying to cut me down, it was working. “Well, I’m going to try and see him.”
“In jail? I hope you’re not calling to see if I’ll tag along.”
My eyes burned, and I swallowed hard. “No,” I said, my voice a little higher than normal. “It’s not as if I don’t have other people I can ask.”
“Skip the formalities and just ask them first next time.”
“Fine,” I said, hating the quiver in my voice. “I will.” I hung up, and tears of frustration and indignation made their way down my cheeks. What had he really meant by all that? My thumb hovered over his contact info, tempted to delete it and spare myself any further humiliation. Instead, I pulled up a new text message. I couldn’t leave things the way they were.
Entranced (Goddess of Fate Book 2) Page 15