by Destiny Ford
“So, what have you been up to lately?” he asked between firework sets. “Any new leads on the Bradford case, or are you still chasing after the governor?”
“Not the governor,” I said, putting my camera up to my face and snapping a photo of a cute kid twirling a sparkler. “The governor’s son.”
“You still think Shawn had something to do with it?”
Another firework went off and I took some photos. “Yeah.” I nodded too in case he couldn’t hear my answer.
Branson puts on a good fireworks display, but they don’t have the six-figure budget required for a lengthy show. Fifteen minutes is about as long as the display lasts. The next set of fireworks went off one right after the other. I knew the finale was coming soon.
“What makes you think so?” Drake yelled over screams from the crowd. The excitement for the finale was building.
I leaned in close to his ear so he could still hear me when the finale began—which ensured there would be rumors about Drake and me making out during the fireworks too. “Because Shawn didn’t want Chelsea to keep the baby, but she wanted to. I think she came back here to get help and he killed her and tried to make it look like an accident. Her own parents didn’t even know where Chelsea had gone. She ran away before she gave birth and they didn’t get to see her, or the baby, before she died.” Drake looked surprised.
At that moment, a little girl ran by in front of me. She wore about twenty pink glowing bracelets that bounced from her shoulder to her wrist. The image gnawed at me as my brain tried to make a connection to whatever I was missing. Suddenly the finale exploded in the sky in designs of pink, gold, orange, red, green, and purple, like stars forming and trailing to their death—and it all clicked. I remembered the photos in Chelsea’s bedroom and the pink and black bracelet Julia Bradford had said was Chelsea’s favorite. The same bracelet Chelsea rarely took off, yet it hadn’t been on her wrist when her body was found. Like Julia, I’d assumed it had been washed away in the lake, or lost with Chelsea’s other missing items. But it wasn’t. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d seen the bracelet tonight. Piper was wearing it.
The thoughts kept coming as pieces fell into place. Piper had wanted to date Shawn Wallace and she was jealous of Chelsea! Maybe Shawn had been involved in Chelsea’s death, but now I realized Piper was probably a part of it too.
The firework display ended and I jumped up off the ground moving in the direction of where I’d last seen Piper: the bowery. As I wove through the crowd of people, trying not to step on blankets, or children, I heard Drake yell, “Katie! Where are you going?” I waved at him as I searched through the dark. If I wanted to know what really happened to Chelsea, I had to find Piper.
People were getting up from the grass now, making it difficult for me to get through the crowd. I didn’t want to lose Piper. I had to talk to her. I swore under my breath and heard a rebuke from my right. Mrs. Simpson glared up at me with all of her five feet—which meant she was just short enough to clearly hear my whispered profanity.
“Katie Saxee! Language like that might’ve been fine at that liberal lovin’ devil college you went to, but it’s not okay here.”
I wanted to tell her I’d heard much worse from her husband at church basketball games when I was growing up, but I held my tongue. Instead I rolled my eyes and pushed past her, trying to get to the bowery.
I was closer now, only about a hundred yards away when I saw her through the crowd. Piper was talking to a boy—and she didn’t look happy.
I could hear Piper and the boy arguing even from where I stood, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Piper was gesturing fiercely with her hands, Chelsea’s pink and black bracelet shifting from Piper’s wrist to her forearm as she moved. The boy’s legs were spread shoulder-width apart in a defensive stance as he pointed at the bracelet on Piper’s wrist and yelled.
I worked my way through the crowd of people who were still moving out of the park, attempting to get back to their cars to go home. I was pushed farther away from the dance and bowery with each step I took, bumping into people and trying not to step on any kids. As I wound through the crowd, my entire vocabulary consisted of “Excuse me,” and “I’m sorry.”
I made it to a spot next to a tree where no one was trying to trample me. I had a clear view of Piper and the boy, and could see that the arguing was becoming more intense. I was about to press my way into the crowd again to go the thirty feet I needed to reach Piper when I was pulled back by my hair. I’d already been poked, prodded, and almost run over; I couldn’t imagine who would have the nerve to pull my hair too. I spun around. Five-foot-four-inch Amber Kane was standing in front of me with a sneer on her face and arms crossed showing off dagger-like fake fingernails painted a patriotic blue and silver. I did not have time for this.
“What the hell is your problem?” I practically screamed at her.
“You are!” she yelled back, sounding like a spoiled teenager. “Just because you sent your boyfriends to come over and threaten me doesn’t mean I have to stop saying anything. There’s a thing called freedom of speech. I can say whatever I want.” It was nice to know Amber had attended at least one civics class at Branson Falls High. Apparently she skipped out on the one about slander.
“There’s also a thing called defamation of character,” I said. “And you can be sued for it.”
She gave me a bitchy stare. “That’s what your boyfriend, Drake, said. I don’t give a crap.” Crap was one of Branson’s imitation swears. Using a word like shit would get you black-listed. I was already there, so I didn’t give a shit.
“Good hell, Amber! Why do you think these guys are all my boyfriends? They aren’t!”
“Oh yeah? Someone better tell them that.”
“Listen,” I said, holding out my hand to count off the men with my fingers. “Drake is a friend who’s been helping me on a story.” I put up finger number two. “Hawke is my partner on the same story.” Then finger number three. “And Spence is my boss! I don’t know why you have your bra in a twist over this, or why you feel the need to spread lies about me. I’m not dating or sleeping with any of them!”
“They sure don’t act like it,” she huffed.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Drake told me if I said anything else about you he’d sue me.”
I shrugged. “I suppose I could hire him as my attorney.”
“Hawke told me if he heard another, cal . . . cumny . . . camaty . . .” I could tell the word was way too big for her to remember, let alone know the definition of.
“Calumny,” I said. “It means to lie to hurt someone’s reputation.”
She waved my explanation off. “It doesn’t matter. He said if he heard another bad thing about you, he’d consider me the source and nothing good would come of it.” She paused, giving me a confused look. “I’m not sure exactly what he means by that, but I know it’s not nice.”
Since we were discussing rude people, Amber’s name should be at the top of the list. And if Hawke said something like that, she shouldn’t just be scared—she should be terrified. I’d only have to tell him Amber pulled my hair and he’d probably take out her kneecaps . . . or whatever it is he specialized in.
“Then Spence stopped by and said if I ever spread another rumor about you, he’ll put the before and after pictures of my nose job on the front page of the Tribune!” She was so angry at the thought, tears welled at the corners of her eyes. I didn’t feel a bit bad about it as I stared at her in disbelief.
“Of all those threats, your nose job on the front page of the paper is the one you’re the most upset about?”
She glared at me with her over-processed hair frizzing in a way that made me think she’d stuck her head in a microwave.
I shook my head. “You are the most spoiled, superficial, brainless woman I’ve ever met.” She gasped at my insults. I needed to get to Piper and I really didn’t have time for this, but I wasn’t holding back. “First, even
with all those threats, you’re still here telling me you’re going to be a lying bitch and say shit about me.” Her mouth formed a shocked ‘O’ in response to what she undoubtedly considered an aggressive use of profanity. “So all I can figure is that you must be below-average stupid to even talk to me right now. Second, you need to think about those threats and reprioritize which of them you should be the most afraid of. While you’re doing that, let me add one of my own. If you keep spreading lies around Branson about me, you won’t have to worry about the nose job pictures because by the time I’m done with you, you’ll need another one.”
She stood in stunned silence for about thirty seconds until she recovered her scowl. “You can’t threaten me,” she said, darting her head around the park. “I’ll tell the police.”
“Tell them what? That I warned you to stop slandering me? The things you’re saying are lies the cops have heard too. Cops who are my friends. They’re not going to sympathize with you, I promise you that. And really, you shouldn’t consider it a threat as much as a warning.”
She stared at me. I could tell her tiny brain was having a difficult time following my logic. “If you keep this up, it won’t end without a fight. You should seriously consider the fact that I’m friends with three of the most powerful men in town, before you unwisely open your mouth again.”
Her hands were balled into fists. I knew she wanted to give me her version of a verbal lashing, but now the consequences were running through her head and she didn’t dare. Undoubtedly, her rebuke would contain several imitation swears: crap, dang, heck, fiddle-sticks. She was mad enough that I was hoping she’d flip me off so I could take a picture. It would make a great photo for my blackmail file. Instead she growled through her teeth, “This isn’t over,” and stomped off.
I took a few seconds to calm down. The small crowd that had gathered to watch our fight began to leave. I was sure The Ladies had the phone-tree going already. Rumors about my cat-fight with Amber Kane would soon be running rampant. On the bright side, our altercation had given people time to clear out of the park so the crowd had dissipated a bit.
I could still see kids milling about in the bowery. The music started, the bass pounding the ground as I searched for Piper. I couldn’t find her. I waded through the crowd of teenagers dancing so close to each other that you couldn’t even fit a tissue between them.
I went up and down the length of the bowery like a lawnmower cutting grass, looking for Piper and the boy she’d been arguing with, but they were nowhere to be found. I heard voices in the dark playground area behind the bowery. I walked over to see if the two teenagers had decided on a more private location for their disagreement.
Twisted like snakes in various positions on the jungle gym were the kids I’d talked to at the bowling alley. In the middle of them all sat my good friend, Keanu. His blue-black hair was spiked into a mohawk. He was sporting black and white Converse sneakers and skinny jeans that seemed to only be staying on his waist with the aid of a chain he was using as a belt. He held a plastic yellow party cup in one hand. When I was a kid, I thought the large cups meant I was getting older and could drink from adult glasses. In college I’d learned they’re called party cups for a reason. Keanu’s other hand held a smoldering tube of white paper with an intensely sweet and spicy smell that I’d also become familiar with in college. Hawke and I had been right when we talked to the kids before. They were drunk and high.
“Duuuude!” Keanu said, waving at me and almost spilling the contents of his cup. “It’s the reporter lady!”
I stepped closer, the kids all greeting me with drooping red eyes. Some smiled like they recognized me, though that seemed unlikely. In their current doped state, I didn’t think they’d even recognize Ryan Seacrest. The closer I got, the more they smelled like the grainy scent of cheap beer.
“What’s up, my buddy?” Keanu said with a huge grin. “Did you see those explosions in the heavens? They were, like”—he struggled for the word—“excellent!” He stared at the sky as if expecting the fireworks to spontaneously start again.
“Hey,” I said, snapping my fingers in front of his face, trying to get his attention. He kept staring at the stars. “Dude!” I said, loudly. That jolted him away from his trance. Apparently, I just need to speak his language. “Do you remember when I was at the bowling alley and asked you about Chelsea Bradford?”
He nodded his head several times, a stupid grin plastered on his face. “You were super nice.” He thought about it for a minute and got a worried look on his face. “Where’s the giant scary dude?” He started turning his head in every direction. I kind of wished Hawke was there so he could pop out and say, “Boo!”
“He’s not with me tonight,” I said.
Keanu leaned in toward me. “Is he hunting big things?”
I didn’t have time for this. “Listen. Remember we talked about Chelsea and you said she used to come to the bowling alley with her friends? Was a girl named Piper ever with her?”
Keanu nodded again.
“Did you see Piper here tonight?”
His eyes went wide and he nodded his head some more. “She was one angry chick. She should stay away from that Shawn guy. He always makes her mad. He used to make Chelsea mad too.”
I stared at him. “What did you say?”
“Piper and Shawn. They don’t get along.” He was quiet for about ten seconds and then piped up, “Heyyy! That rhymes!” He laughed at his wit and took a chug of his illegal beer to congratulate himself.
“Are you saying Chelsea’s boyfriend, Shawn, was here tonight?” I should have realized Piper was talking to Shawn, but it was dark and I couldn’t see him well.
“Yeah! With Piper. They were maaaad!”
“What were they fighting about?” I asked, hoping Keanu had retained enough information to tell me anything of use. Frankly, I was impressed he’d been able to tell me this much so far.
He took a drag on his joint and started to giggle. “Shawn said Chelsea was the one he’d wanted to be with, not Piper.” He stopped, looking off in space like he was thinking. “Know what? I think Shawn-dude was breakin’ up with Piper-chick.”
I looked around to see if anyone else could give me information. They were all at least as stoned and drunk as Keanu. “Do you know where they are now?”
“Piper was piiiisssed! Especially when Shawn said he was leaving.”
I felt like I was pulling teeth trying to find out what had happened. “Where did he go?”
Keanu shrugged. “Shawn said he was going to Chelsea’s favorite place.”
I suddenly remembered Chelsea’s funeral and Piper telling everyone in her eulogy that Chelsea’s favorite place was Emerald Lake. “Thanks!” I yelled to Keanu and his friends. I ran full speed to my car, the camera bouncing on my stomach.
I didn’t know how long they’d been gone, but I was certain Shawn’s destination was Emerald Lake. If Piper hadn’t gone with him, I knew she would follow him there. Assuming Keanu was right and Shawn had just declared his love for Chelsea instead of Piper, maybe Piper would be jealous enough to try to hurt Shawn.
Emerald Lake is in a recessed location at the bottom of a hill. Its private setting with built-in sound buffering mountains makes it popular for family parties and church gatherings. Parking at the top of the hill, I switched my headlights off before quietly opening and then shutting the Jeep door. I kept to the side of the road near the trees, following the asphalt down the hill into the park area.
Picnic tables sat under a bowery that had been built across from the restrooms; the lake was just beyond the bowery. At the bottom of the road, a jacked up black Ford truck with tinted windows was parked near the bowery. I’d been right. The black Ford was Shawn’s. The passenger-side door was flung open. Light emanated from the ghostly cab. I felt like I’d stumbled onto the aftermath of a horrible argument. My only hope was that it wasn’t over yet.
I crouched down as I walked up to the side of the restrooms. I peered aroun
d the corner at the bowery, the moon illuminating a gravel road on one side and the lake on the other, but I couldn’t see anyone there. I slowly made my way across the road, and that’s when I heard it. A female voice crying. Piper.
I ducked down next to the truck, creeping around the back of it to see what was happening on the other side. When Chelsea’s body was found, the paramedics had pulled her out of the water and onto the grass next to a large, two ton red and white rock with a plaque on it. Now Piper was standing between the truck and the rock. She was holding a handgun. Shawn Wallace was standing with his back against the rock, terror on his face. From my vantage point, I could see Shawn completely, and had a good view of Piper’s profile. Between her sobs, Piper yelled, “We could have been happy! Don’t you see that?”
Shawn didn’t say a word. I moved slightly so he could see me, but Piper couldn’t unless she turned her head. His eyes flitted in my direction for a moment. I saw a flicker of hope before he turned his attention back to Piper so she wouldn’t get suspicious.
“You could have been the father of our baby instead of Chelsea’s! Why did you want her? She was mean! And she didn’t care about you. She even told me so. Every time you two broke up she said horrible things about you.” Piper shook her head. “I tried to get her to stop. I tried to make her see how great you were, but she never listened.”
With the knowledge that I was there, Shawn seemed to be regaining some of his control. “Thank you, Piper. Thank you for sticking up for me.”
She looked up, her cheekbone highlighted by the tears staining her face as her lips curved into a smile. “See! I helped you! I got rid of her and now you don’t have to be with her. She’s gone and you can be with someone who really loves you. You can be with me.”