Exposure Point: A gripping small town mystery. (The Candidates Book 1)

by M. D. Archer

  I sat up and drank from the cup of water next to my bed, waiting for my heart to stop hammering in my chest. I felt grimy, as if I’d been sweating in my sleep. I eyed the crutches leaning against the wall but decided not to use them. For short distances—like to the bathroom—and with lots of things to hold on to, they were more of a hassle than anything else.

  I got up and limped out of my room. I had a plastic wrapping around my bandaged foot and could shower—I couldn’t believe I had to deal with all this again—but decided on a bath.

  An hour later, my hair was washed and almost every inch of my body scrubbed—after my time in the basement, a spring clean seemed necessary. I put on comfy leggings and my favourite oversized cardigan, then limped out to the hall to poke my head into Mom’s room. She was completely out. Part of me yearned for sleep too, my body dripping with exhaustion, but I was totally wide awake. Tired but wired.

  My phone buzzed.

  They’d recovered it from Logan—he’d had it in his pocket, which was a little creepy, but I was still glad to have it back. When I’d turned it on yesterday, I wasn’t super surprised to see that all my messages had been deleted. He was trying to cover up a secret experiment, after all.

  I sat on my bed to check it, expecting a message from Isaac. He’d stayed in Montrose for one more night so we could talk properly. And we’d go see Mr. Ellison tomorrow. I glanced out the window to see into his, but his room was dark. He was probably still catching up with his parents.

  But the message wasn’t from Isaac.

  It was from Cole.

  I’m outside. Can we talk?

  My mouth dropped open. I lurched to standing, balancing on one foot as I typed out a reply. Come down the side of the house to the kitchen door. I’ll meet you. Give me five minutes to get down there. Moving slow. :P.

  I left the crutches—they were a nightmare on the stairs and would probably wake Mom—and hobbled as quietly as I could downstairs, gripping the banister the whole way. I got to the kitchen and took a moment to regain my breath. My heart was thumping so hard my shirt had to be vibrating.

  When I opened the door, Cole stood there. He wore a dark blue shirt that was a little rumpled and an expression that was a little wretched. He lifted one hand to scratch the back of his neck.

  “Calliope, uh—”

  My body surged toward him, as if I was going to hug him, but I caught myself in time and gripped the kitchen table instead.

  “You’re okay,” I said. “I’m so glad.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. I can’t believe Logan….” His eyes searched mine, then dropped down to my foot. “I heard….”

  “It’s fine. I mean, it still hurts, but….” I shrugged.

  “You’re sure you’re fine?”

  I swallowed. “I’m just glad I made it out of there alive.”

  Cole clenched his jaw and shook his head, then looked past me into the kitchen. “Can we talk here? Is it… private?”

  There was a thump from upstairs. I looked at Cole, eyes wide, and held a finger to my lips. Only silence followed. It must have been Mom’s book falling off the bed—it happened a lot—but staying in the kitchen was a bad idea. The way the house was set up, noise from the kitchen tended to drift straight up the stairs into Mom’s room, so weirdly, my room was the stealthiest option.

  “It’s better if we talk in my room. Follow me,” I whispered. I turned to hobble back up the stairs, but Cole caught my arm.

  “Calliope, let me. Please?”

  With a whoosh of adrenaline or something, I nodded. In one easy motion, he scooped me off my feet and strode quickly but quietly up the stairs.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  My whole body was pressed up against his torso, and his face was only inches from mine. I was super glad I’d recently brushed my teeth. I couldn’t remember what state my room was in—having Cole this close was seriously messing with my brain function—so when he eased open the door and I saw no bras or undies anywhere in sight, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  He set me down on the bed. “You okay?”

  I nodded.

  Cole took two long steps toward the window and stood there, looking out, his hands cupping the back of his head and his shoulders bunched in tension. I leaned over to check myself in the mirror. My hair was in a haphazard top knot and I was pretty much wearing PJs. When Cole turned to me, I was patting my hair and tugging at my cardigan. A small smile crept onto his face, breaking the tension.

  “Sorry, I, uh, wasn’t expecting….”

  Almost immediately his smile disappeared. He took a step toward me and the atmosphere dropped, became weighty.

  “Logan. He didn’t…?” His voice was strained, almost rasping. “Hurt you?”

  I shook my head. He took another step toward me and I stood up, half kneeling my injured foot on the bed. I couldn’t believe he was here, in my room. It felt too small. His energy, or maybe it was mine, seemed to be pulsating outward, straining the seams of the room.

  “He was drunk. I don’t even think he knew what he was doing… not really.” I studied his face. “Cole, I have so many questions. Where have you been? Why did you want to meet me, and why didn’t you show up? Did you think I was in danger because of Logan? I guess you were right about that.” I was still whispering, but it was hard to keep my voice low. “The stuff going on at the health centre….” I paused, wondering how I could say this, wondering if I could trust him, wondering how much he already knew.

  Cole’s eyes were dark as they studied mine. “I know.” He nodded.

  My throat tightened. Finally, confirmation that he knew.

  “But not because I’m involved.” He moved toward me, reaching out his hand, his brows knitting together in earnest. “I figured out Logan was up to something. With the blood from the blood drive, and those tests. I was going to tell you, Calliope. That night. I was about to leave, to come to Montrose to meet you, when something came up. At home. I couldn’t leave. And then I heard the health centre burned down. I knew you were okay because you were posting on social media, but I stayed away because I thought I might be in danger. Because of what I know.”

  For a moment I was stuck on the thought of Cole looking through my socials, but I shook it away. There were other things I needed to know.

  “You said they knew my file was missing. That day I interrupted you at the health centre… it was my file you were reading, right?”

  Cole nodded, a slow movement. “I figured out something was going on, so I started keeping an eye out for anything that could explain what he was up to. When I saw your results, Calliope, I couldn’t work out—”

  “When?” I cut him off. “When did you start keeping an eye out?”

  The Cole and Callie timeline was coming together in an unpleasant way.

  “It was the same time you started showing up places and offering me rides, right?”

  He said nothing and looked down. It was like a punch to the gut.

  “You were getting closer to me to figure this all out, right?”

  “At first, maybe, but it doesn’t mean—”

  “Ha,” I blurted.

  I knew his interest in me was too good to be true. Cole only wanted to find out more about DcH.

  “I’m supposed to believe you weren’t involved? You’ve been working at the health centre from the beginning. You work for Logan. You know he’s dead, right?” I couldn’t believe how harsh my voice sounded.

  Cole nodded. “But only from the news.” He stepped toward me again. “Please, Calliope. Believe me.” He was reaching out, and I wanted to believe him so badly, but was I an idiot?

  “I’m pretty sure Logan set up the grade twelve class as unknowing participants in some sort of experiment… and I think—” He broke off as I took an awkward step toward him.

  “And you weren’t involved?”

  “I couldn’t ever do that,” he said, his eyes were wide and earnest. “You believe me, don’t you? I’m not involved?”
/>
  He was right in front of me now.

  Did I believe him?

  If he was lying, then he should leave for Hollywood immediately.

  He took my hand and held it to his chest, as if the beating of his heart would convince me he was telling the truth. My heart was thudding even harder and my head was swimming, but when I looked into his eyes, I believed him.

  “What I said the other day to Amanda was true, Calliope. And… I worry about you. I can’t help it. I don’t know why, I just… I think about you a lot.”

  Keeping my hand pressed on his chest, he used his other hand and tucked my hair behind my ear, then stroked the side of my face. My body hummed, my head swarmed, and my stomach swirled. I had to pull back.

  I didn’t know why I looked over to my window, but when I did, I saw Isaac. Standing there, looking straight at me. The expression on his face wrenched something deep inside me. It was brutal. I opened my mouth to say something, but there were no words.

  Isaac turned and walked away.

  And all I could do was watch him.

  34

  The next morning, I was floating around the kitchen trying to sort out breakfast, but my mind was drifting happily in the clouds, refusing to come down to earth.

  The way Cole had picked me up and carried me.

  How he’d felt against my body, and then in my room, how he’d been standing so close I could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

  And then how he’d touched my face and told me he thought about me a lot.

  I wanted to relish the memory forever, but another one kept pushing at me.

  Isaac’s face at the window.

  Cole had left pretty much straight after that. Not only had Mom stirred and called out to me, but seeing Isaac had totally killed the mood. But before Cole left, he promised to get in touch soon. We still had stuff to talk about, apparently.

  I hobbled over to the coffee machine. I couldn’t stop smiling, but Isaac’s expression haunted me. What was it going to be like when I saw him today? Would he be weird?

  The kitchen door swung open and Isaac walked in.

  I was about to find out.

  “Hey,” he said like normal, like nothing had happened last night.

  “Hey,” I said, studying his face. “How’s it going?”

  “Good,” he replied with an unsuccessful attempt at a smile.

  “Isaac, I didn’t mean for you—”

  “No need to explain,” he cut me off. “You guys are dating, whatever.” He air-quoted “dating” and didn’t look at me.

  “We’re not dating,” I said.

  “Quinn and I are pretty much together,” he added. “No big deal.”

  Even though it shouldn’t matter, the news landed as a soft blow to my stomach.

  But before I could say anything, Mom came bustling down the stairs. She looked relieved to see Isaac, and I was kind of relieved to see her. Things were awkward down here.

  “Are you here for breakfast, Isaac?”

  His face lit up.

  I didn’t know why Mom bothered asking—the answer was always the same—but I was happy to see his uncertain frown replaced with a smile.

  Isaac helped himself to coffee, then collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. His legs and arms seemed to be everywhere. I sat down too, sipping my coffee as I eyed him. He was definitely getting taller. Or bigger? Isaac’s eyes flicked to me, then returned to fix on his phone as if it had the answers to all his questions. Or maybe he was messaging Quinn.

  Mom placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of each of us, then flitted back and forth from the kitchen counter to the table, bombarding Isaac with a never-ending stream of questions about university life.

  After about ten minutes—when he’d finished eating—Isaac leaned across and stopped Mom as she bustled to clear his plate. He put his hand on hers. “Don’t worry, Mrs. L. I’m not going to let her out of my sight.”

  “Thank you, Isaac.” She lurched away with the plates, dumped them in the sink, and then returned to pull us both into a desperate Mom-hug.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Kind of early for visitors,” I said as Mom pulled away.

  “That’ll be Detective Radowski.”

  Something gripped my insides. “What? Why?”

  “They want to interview you about Logan. I wouldn’t let them at the hospital, and then they told me to bring you to the station, but I vetoed that idea as well. You’re still recovering.”

  “But why? What do they need to know?”

  “Logan committed a crime. A serious one. Even though he’s… you know… they still need a full and accurate record of what happened.”

  I looked at Isaac with wide eyes. He stared back and lifted his shoulders as if to say, I don’t know.

  Mom caught the look. “You’d better go, Isaac.”

  “But we were—”

  “Can you come back in an hour?” Mom continued, ignoring me.

  “Uh, sure.”

  The doorbell went again. Mom went to answer it, and I saw Isaac out the back door. “I shouldn’t say anything, right?”

  “Mr. Ellison didn’t, so no. Just say you don’t know. You can’t remember. Mr. Ellison wants to catch up with us later. We’ll talk about it then. You can always say you remembered something later.”

  “Calliope?” Mom called. “Come into the living room.”

  ***

  I was relieved that Detective Radowski had brought Constable Greene with him. She had a reassuring presence, and while I was pretty sure Radowski was crooked, I had no reason to believe she was in on the cover-up.

  We settled in the living room, and Radowski went through a few “procedural formalities”, as he called them. Then he nodded once at Greene and fixed his eyes on me. “Take us through what happened. From the beginning.”

  I almost laughed. The beginning? The beginning of what?

  “Logan intercepted you at the health centre?” he prompted, seeming annoyed I hadn’t already answered his question.

  I nodded slowly, trying to appear fragile and tired. Not that I was feeling full of energy or anything, but I wanted an emergency cord I could pull if I got stuck.

  “What were you doing there?” Radowski’s eyes narrowed.

  “Uh”—I lifted my shoulders—“just curious, I guess. I had a meeting with Mrs. Pemberton at the office, and then… I guess I wandered over.”

  Radowski eyed me for a moment, as if he wasn’t satisfied with my answer, then nodded for me to continue.

  “Logan came up behind me and put something over my mouth. I woke up in the basement.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly painfully dry. Saying it out loud wasn’t the greatest thing in the world. Until now I’d had a weird sense of detachment from the event, as if I’d watched it in a movie.

  “Calliope?” Mom studied my face with concern.

  “I’m okay.” I nodded. “If they need me to tell them, I’d rather get it over with.”

  “Why did he do it? Why did he take you and put you in that cell?” Radowski leaned forward. “Did he tell you? Did he explain his motives?”

  “Honestly? I think he’d lost it. I work in the school’s administration office, and I helped the health centre with stuff,” I explained. “Logan blamed me for things that went wrong. I don’t know how sane he was, you know? He had a drinking problem, and it seemed like he’d lost control.”

  “What things going wrong?”

  “Uh.” I shrugged, my mind racing as I tried to think of reasons. “I don’t know. Maybe something to do with the fire? I got the impression it was his fault. He, uh, caused it. Probably because of his drinking.”

  Radowski exchanged a glance with Greene.

  “He was drunk the whole time and rambling and didn’t make sense. But he was definitely mad at me.”

  “Oh, lamb,” Mom said.

  “But he didn’t hurt me.” I said this more to Mom than Radowski. “He never touched me. It wasn’t, uh,
like that. He just kept me in that cell.”

  I looked down. My hands were pale and dry. I looked at the coffee table as if hand lotion might magically appear.

  “You managed to get out?”

  I knitted my brows together. Suddenly my head was throbbing.

  “I… uh, yeah. I guess, I—”

  “Detective, Calliope’s memory is…. It might be from the medication, or the trauma, the doctor said.” Mom’s voice wobbled.

  I’d told Mom things were a little fuzzy, because if my memory was hazy now, then later, if I needed to, I could admit the truth without getting into too much trouble.

  Radowski nodded. “What do you remember?”

  I blinked a couple of times. It was so tempting to tell him about that scary dead-eyed dude who’d shown up, but he must have taken out Logan, and I didn’t know what that meant. Because if Radowski was involved in the cover-up, it was possible that guy was his buddy. If I said I saw him down there, then maybe I would be a witness that they couldn’t risk having around.

  “You had keys to the basement cell when you were found,” Greene said into the silence.

  “Yeah, I, uh….” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Logan dropped them—he was drunk—and then… yeah, he went upstairs, so I managed to reach through the bars and pick them up.”

  “What about your foot?” Radowski said.

  I winced as the memory of pain shot through me, almost as if it was happening again. “I guess my muscles were shaky. I fell down after I unlocked the door, and then it swung shut on my toe.” I shuddered.

  Greene gave me a sympathetic smile. “The main thing is you got out.”

  “Miss Laws.” Radowski’s voice suddenly sounded harsh. “We really need you to think hard for a reason as to why Logan did this to you. That he had a drinking problem does not seem like enough of a motive to kidnap a minor.” He obviously was not happy with my explanation, and I couldn’t really blame him, but I still couldn’t tell him the truth. He hadn’t believed me the first time I’d tried to tell him, and nothing had changed.

  “You know he thought I took something from the health centre,” I said.

  Radowski nodded but didn’t seem satisfied.

  “So, um….” Ideas rattled through my brain. Radowski wanted something more. Something to explain everything that had happened at Montrose High. I could only think of one thing. “I found out about the steroids,” I blurted. “Logan brought in steroids for the hockey team.”