“Thank you.” He ran his finger along my bottom lip, and I physically ached for him to kiss me, even if it was as brief as it had been the other day. Instead, he stepped back and opened the door. “C’mon, we should get to class.”
Reluctantly, I followed.
The morning progressed slowly. I went through the motions, but I didn’t pay attention. Sitting on the gym floor, I stretched my legs out in front of me. We were in the middle of a track and field unit, but because of recent events, Ms. Phillips was allowing us to walk the gym without any time constraints or expectations. Personally, I think she was as shocked about Rachel’s death as all of us were.
“Is that cool with you, Chloe?” Ellie asked.
I hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “I’m sorry, what?”
She smiled sympathetically. “We’re going to postpone the sleepover until next weekend. With Rachel’s death and all…”
“Right.” I nodded. “Yeah, that’s cool.”
Honestly, after the trouble I’d gotten into with Aunt Beth, I doubted she’d let me go to a sleepover this weekend anyway. I hadn’t even brought it up let alone asked her yet.
“You can invite Abby, if you want,” Ellie offered. “I don’t know if she’ll feel up to it, but…”
“I will. Thanks.” I glanced across the gym to where Abby sat.
Her back was against the wall, and her knees were tucked to her chest. The urge to go sit with her consumed me, but I had a feeling she needed to be left alone. I could only imagine how many people had approached her today, wanting to offer sympathy or talk. Sometimes, the constant good intentions of others was worse than anything.
“I’m surprised she’s here today,” Gina said. “I don’t think I’d ever want to come back if my BFF was brutally murdered.”
I cringed at the harshness of her words.
“I heard the police questioned Marc for hours yesterday,” Luke said as he joined us.
“What? Marc? Why?” My ears perked up, and a weird unease coursed through me, covering my skin in goose bumps.
Right from the moment I’d met him, he’d given me a strange vibe. I hadn’t thought he was violent, but he wasn’t exactly friendly, either. At least, not to me. What Abby saw in him was one of life’s great mysteries, but to think he had something to do with Rachel’s death? That was too bizarre for words.
Luke shrugged. “No idea why they think he had anything to do with it, but rumor is he spent all day at the police station.”
“I heard her neck was torn up, like an animal had attacked her,” Nick said, his voice conspiratorial. “But there was no blood. Anywhere.”
“The official story is that she fell while hiking,” Luke added. “It happens quite a bit around here.”
“That makes no sense. Rachel was terrified of heights,” I said, recalling how Abby had made the same argument to me the other day.
Tonya shuddered dramatically. “Personally, I don’t even want to think about it. The whole thing is so scary.”
“I agree,” Ellie said.
I nodded because I wasn’t sure what else to do. “I’ll be right back.” I got up and went over to Abby. Lowering myself next to her, I gently nudged her. “You look like you want to scream.”
“I do.”
My shoulders slumped. “Have you tried talking to one of the grief counselors?”
The school had brought in a lot of them, too, and at the start of every class, the teacher asked if anyone needed to be excused to go talk to someone.
“I already did. It didn’t help.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I should’ve stayed home today,” she mumbled.
“So, go home. I’m sure everyone here will understand.”
“What about you? Mom said to make sure you came home with me, remember?”
“Yeah, but I’m sure she’ll understand. And I’ll get a ride home with Ellie or Trent.” Simply saying his name had my heart racing. “Seriously, don’t force yourself to be here with all these people if you’re not ready. No one is going to blame you for ditching.”
Her lips trembled, and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Thanks.”
I gave her a hug. Ms. Phillips blew her whistle to indicate class had officially started. Abby stood and headed toward our teacher while I made my way back to my friends.
We walked in silence. I really was worried about Abby, but I was also thrilled I’d be able to ride home with Trent. Fresh guilt gnawed at me.
After gym class, we headed toward the cafeteria.
Trent was waiting for me, and I smiled when I saw him. “Hey,” I said.
Behind me, Ellie stifled a giggle. She dragged Gina and Tonya into the cafeteria, winking at me as she passed.
“What’s that all about?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
His tempting lips pulled up into a smile, and my breath caught. How did he do that? He flung his arm around my shoulders.
“So, can I take you up on your offer to drive me home today?” I asked.
“I’d be honored to drive you home today.”
I tilted my head. That was a strange way to say yes.
He stopped at his usual table in the corner and pulled out a chair for me. “I thought you had to go home with Abby, though.”
“Thanks.” I sat. “I was supposed to, but she’s having trouble dealing, so she went home early.”
He sat in the chair next to me. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” I fidgeted with the edge of the table. “Is your brother okay with me sitting here?” Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t seen Jax in any classes this morning.
“He’s not here today.”
“Oh.” I shifted so I was facing him. “I heard the police questioned Marc Johnson yesterday. Do you think he could’ve had something to do with Rachel’s death?” My voice was barely above a whisper, and I had no idea how he heard me over the noisy lunchroom.
Trent shrugged one shoulder, as if he couldn’t care less about anything having to do with Marc or Rachel. His attitude was completely different than this morning, and I couldn’t figure out why.
“I should tell the police about my run-in with Marc.” I knew how ridiculous that situation sounded, and I doubted anyone other than Trent would believe me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to do something.
“Why?” he said slowly.
“I don’t know.” I stared down at the table. “Maybe if I tell them how Marc behaved around me, they’ll see he has a history of… creepy behavior.”
Trent made a deep, throaty noise that sounded an awful lot like a snarling grunt. “Unfortunately, being creepy isn’t against the law. And will you please stop obsessing about talking to the police?” Once again, he lifted my chin so I was forced to look at him. “Besides, Marc won’t be bothering you again.”
“What?” I pulled away from his touch. “Why?”
“Jax and I had a little chat with him. He knows not to bother you again.”
Fear spiked through my veins at how hard and cold his tone was, and I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to shrink farther away from him.
I wanted to ask him what they had said to Marc, but I was positive I didn’t really want the answer. And for the first time since meeting Trent, I was beginning to wonder if trusting him was a mistake.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Hallucinations
AN EAR-PIERCING SCREAM SHATTERED THE QUIET solitude of the house on Thursday morning. I jumped out of bed and rushed into the hallway, barely missing colliding with Aunt Beth and Uncle Dean. He flung open Abby’s bedroom door, and I crowded into the room behind Aunt Beth, my heart in my throat. Was something wrong with Abby, or was she having another nightmare?
Abby was rocking on her knees in the middle of the floor, cell phone clutched in her hand. Her parents flanked her, eyes wide with fear.
“Abby, honey, what’s wrong?” Aunt Beth asked, smoothing the hair away from her daughter’s face.
Sobbing, Abby shoo
k her head and continued to rock back and forth. I stood frozen in the doorway, unsure what to say or do.
After a moment, Abby lifted her head and looked at me. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was tear stained. “Marc’s dead,” she whispered.
I gasped.
“Who’s Marc?” Uncle Dean asked, glancing at me.
“Oh, um, a guy we go to school with.” I didn’t know what else to say, and I wasn’t going to tell him Marc was the guy Abby had been dating.
“Oh, God,” Abby wailed. She dropped her phone to the floor, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed.
I swallowed against the lump in my throat and took a step back. Then another. Aunt Beth helped Abby off the floor and onto the bed while Uncle Dean picked up Abby’s phone. The scene in front of me was surreal, like I was watching it from the outside through a dirty window, the people distorted, and the words muffled.
Marc was dead?
How? When? I wanted to ask those questions and so many more, but Abby was in no condition to explain. My ears rang, and everything around me spun out of focus. I grabbed the doorjamb to regain my balance, but my heart thudded so painfully and erratically, nothing could steady me.
Marc was dead.
My stomach sank as bile rose in my throat. Cupping my hand over my mouth, I turned and ran back to my room. I paced, my body trembling. All I could think about was how Trent had assured me I wouldn’t have to worry about Marc bothering me. Were Trent and Jax responsible for Marc’s death?
No. Trent was not a killer. I refused to believe that.
But it was an eerie coincidence. Trent warned Marc to leave me alone, and then Marc ended up dead?
“Chloe?” Uncle Dean peeked into my room, and I yelped with surprise. “You okay?”
Hugging myself, I nodded. “How’s Abby?”
“Beth gave her something to help her sleep. We think it’s best if you stay home from school today.”
“Okay.” The tension eased from my body, and my shoulders sank with relief.
I wouldn’t have to face Trent today, which meant I had some time to figure out what to say to him, if anything. I mean, how was I supposed to ask him if he was a murderer?
With a tight smile, Uncle Dean left and closed my door. I blew out a breath.
As the day progressed and more details about Marc’s death were revealed, we were notified that school was closed until Tuesday—both for the current safety of the students and for Rachel’s funeral on Monday. While I understood the reasoning, it meant being trapped in this house for five days with no way to see any of my friends. Or Trent. Although, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Aunt Beth spent all day pacing and fretting over Abby. I knew she was concerned about her daughter, but her constant worry was really starting to bug me. Mom was my best friend, and when she died, everything I had with her, every secret we’d shared, died with her. Now, Abby was experiencing the same thing.
Friday morning found four more dead bodies—this time tourists. The police cut off all access to Roaring Brook Falls and implemented a strict seven p.m. curfew. The local news speculated Keene Valley had a serial killer, but what kind of serial killer tore out his victims’ throats, drained them of blood, and tossed them from a waterfall?
No more murders occurred over the weekend, but I was on lockdown. Aunt Beth and Uncle Dean refused to let me or Abby out of the house, not that Abby tried. She’d only come out of her room once since school on Wednesday. I spent all weekend catching up on the back assignments my teachers had given. When I was caught up, I proceeded to do more research for my History project.
Searches for Benjamin Payne, the Halsteads, or anything that would provide some answers led to a whole lot of nothing. I hadn’t been able to find a local obituary for Sean Halstead. And when I widened my search, I hadn’t found any records for any Halstead births or deaths. Something was very different about Trent and his family. But what?
By the time Rachel’s funeral rolled around on Monday, I was going stir crazy. I needed to get out of the house. As awful as it was, I couldn’t wait to see my friends at the funeral, which was so terrible I could barely look at myself in the mirror as I got dressed. Would Trent be there? Would he try to talk to me? My stomach knotted. I wasn’t sure I was ready to face him yet.
The drive to the funeral home was bleak. So many people had turned out to pay their respects. The entire school it looked like. Plus, all the teachers and staff. I’d even go as far as to guess that the entire town was there.
The service was long, but sweet. Apparently, I was the only person Rachel didn’t seem to like. Everyone else stood up and said nice things about her, told funny stories of how she was always the life of any party, always the center of attention. Rachel’s mom gave a tear-filled eulogy about how Rachel spent more time volunteering than studying—which earned a chuckle from the crowd—and how she loved to foster kittens.
I blinked back tears. Mom always wanted to foster pets, but we both knew we’d never be able to give them up, so we’d made a pact to volunteer one day a week at the local animal shelter rather than foster. I took a shaky breath, realizing how caring and strong Rachel was to do what me and Mom never could. I had a new respect for Rachel, and I wished I’d had the chance to get to know her better. Maybe we could have been friends.
At one point, Abby tried to get up and say something, but she broke down into uncontrollable sobs, and Aunt Beth had to help her back to her seat.
Finally, the service ended, and I excused myself to the restroom. Being here, witnessing all this grief, was too much. Too many painful memories of losing Mom clawed their way to the surface, and I let out a sob. Clutching the sink, I hung my head and willed the raw, aching pain to go away.
After a few moments and several deep breaths, I walked out of the bathroom and ran face first into someone’s back. “Oh, sorry,” I said.
“My bad. I should know better than to stand in front of a door like that.” The man turned around and smiled.
My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped. I knew this man. Or rather, I’d seen him before. But… this wasn’t possible.
“Sean?” I whispered.
He cocked his head. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
Oh, God! He was the same exact man from the picture, right down to the high cheekbones and his smile and the scar above his eye. How was that possible? That photo was taken 188 years ago.
My head spun. I blinked, hoping this was nothing more than a grief-induced hallucination. But he remained. I reached for the wall to steady myself.
“Miss, are you okay?” Sean moved toward me, but I let out a yelp and flinched away from him. He quickly pulled back.
“Dad, are you ready?” Trent appeared behind Sean, and I gasped.
Sean Halstead was Trent’s father? My sweaty palm slipped against the wall, and I started to fall.
“Chloe.” Trent had me in his arms before I hit the floor, but his quick movements only made me dizzier. “Are you okay?”
His eyes were full of concern, and for a moment, I forgot why I’d freaked out in the first place. The safety and comfort I found in his arms warred with my confusion and anger.
But then Sean spoke again, his gaze still locked on me. “This is Chloe?” He said it like he knew who I was but couldn’t believe I was within reach.
My heart raced. “Let me go.” I shoved against Trent’s chest. “Let me go!”
People around us stared. I was making a scene, and I needed to get myself under control.
Trent released me, and I backed up until I hit the wall. My gaze darted between Trent and Sean as my mind tried to catch up with the impossibility of what was in front of me. Sean Halstead was Trent’s father—Trent’s very old father who hadn’t aged a day since that photo was taken—and Trent had lied to me about it. I’d shown him the photograph, and he’d acted like he had no idea who Sean was. Why would he do that? What was going on? I was dreaming. That was the only logical explanation. Because anything e
lse and… I began to hyperventilate.
“Chloe?” Aunt Beth rounded the corner. “Oh, God. Chloe, honey, what’s wrong?” She was by my side in an instant, her hand resting protectively on my back.
My hair clung to my sweaty forehead. “I-I’m not feeling well. I want to go home.”
Aunt Beth put her arm around my shoulders and guided me toward the exit. As I passed, Trent reached out and touched my arm. The brief contact sent chills through me.
“Chloe, please,” Trent begged.
“Don’t.” I recoiled.
Aunt Beth escorted me out of the funeral home, and I climbed into Uncle Dean’s truck. Abby was already in the back seat, head resting against the window, face stained with tears. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and leaned forward. My throat was raspy and sore, and tears burned my eyes.
“Chloe, do you want to talk about what happened?” Aunt Beth asked.
“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut.
I couldn’t talk about it when I didn’t even understand it myself. All I knew was that Trent was a liar, and there was something really freaky about his family.
“Who was that boy?” She twisted around in her seat to look at me.
“Nobody,” I whispered.
She continued to stare at me, expecting a more thorough answer. What was I supposed to say? I didn’t have any answers. All I had were questions.
Slowly, she turned back around and hooked her seatbelt. I had a feeling this conversation wasn’t over, though.
“Do you two still want to go to the graveyard service?” Uncle Dean asked as he pulled out of the parking lot and stopped alongside the road as the hearse and Rachel’s family lined up to lead the processional.
“Yes,” Abby said.
I suppressed a groan. The last place I wanted to go was the cemetery, but I couldn’t necessarily say so, and I sure as heck couldn’t explain why. My stomach lurched, and I had to fight to keep down the toast I’d eaten earlier that morning.
Forcing all thoughts from my mind, I focused on the smooth leather that was the back of Uncle Dean’s seat and worked to calm my breathing. There was a logical explanation about Trent and Sean; I simply needed to find out what that was. And once I did, I was sure I’d have a good laugh about how I overreacted.
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