Don't Say a Word (Hometown Antihero)

by Amber Lynn Natusch

  “Maybe, but I can’t bank on it. At minimum, we have something to run against any suspects when they’re brought in.”

  I looked at him curiously. “Can you get DNA from suspects if they’re not charged with a crime?”

  The smile I loved to hate spread across his face. “It’s not standard protocol, but there are ways.”

  “Like taking the soda can or cup they used?” I asked, thinking of my favorite crime shows. He nodded. “So that’s really a thing.…”

  “It is. Now, whether or not it’s admissible is a gray area, but we’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve got to get home and do some paperwork. Will you be over later?”

  “Yeah, maybe. I’ve got a paper due tomorrow that I can’t blow off any longer. But if I get it done early enough, I’ll be over. Gramps is home tonight though.…”

  “Maybe I should come over to your place, then,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “Nope. I like that he knows about you but doesn’t actually know you. I’m going to keep it that way as long as I can.”

  His smile faltered for just a second.

  “I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” he said before he walked away, headed for his car. I watched as he sped off, then let out a breath. I hated feeling left behind—out of the action. That was the only thing keeping me going.

  As I headed back toward the school, the bell letting me know I needed to stop by the main office for a tardy note, I passed my car. A paper tucked under my wipers caught my attention, and I walked over to get it, thinking Jane might have put it there. But when I saw what it said, I knew it wasn’t from her.

  You’ll end up just like her …

  The note fell from my hands to the ground, my body coiled to either fight or run. Flashbacks of bricks through my window and files of my topless pictures raced through my mind. My chest tightened like a snake was squeezing the life out of me. I leaned against Heidi, struggling for air as my vision went spotty, frozen with panic.

  I was losing the fight.

  Breathe, a voice in my head said softly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I repeated this over and over again, breathing deep down into my diaphragm—the way I’d learned to when I trained. The way my counselor had shown me. I could feel my chest ease slightly the longer I did it.

  Once I regained control of my body, I snatched up the note and jumped into my car. I grabbed my phone to call Dawson, then stopped. I needed a minute to think. After my near meltdown the night before and the text on Danielle’s phone, there was no way Dawson would let me anywhere near the case if he saw the note. But if it had physical evidence on it, I couldn’t possibly withhold it—it could match the DNA found on Danielle. I needed an angle to play that would keep me on the team but get us evidence if there was any to be found.

  The second an idea hit me, I peeled out of the parking lot.

  * * *

  “I feel like you’re making a real habit of showing up here unannounced,” Dawson said, stepping back to let me in.

  “About that,” I said, readying myself for the first bomb drop of my visit. “For the sake of my reputation and sanity, I’ve made the executive decision that we’re dating now. Half the school thinks we already are, anyway. Might as well just succumb to the rumors and be done with it. It’s not like it really changes anything. It just makes my late-night drop-ins far less scandalous.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “I thought you loved a good scandal.”

  “I do, but not when I’m at the heart of it. Could you please not be a dick about this right now? We have other shit to deal with.” I held the folded note out to him using my sleeve to protect it, and he took it doing the same. “You need to process this for DNA. See if any matches what they found on Danielle.”

  His eyes went wide when he read it, and they quickly turned to me.

  “How did you get this?”

  I took a deep breath. “Jane left it on my car for me with an explanation. Someone sent it to her.” How easily that lie flew off my tongue. “I don’t know anything beyond that, so don’t ask. Just process it, okay?”

  Those shrewd eyes of his searched my face for something—maybe the truth I was withholding. But he never found it.

  “I’ll take it up there now.”

  “Great. I hope there’s something on it—that it matches Danielle’s killer.”

  “And that he’s already in the system.”

  “Either way, it could be helpful.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice drifting off. “I’ll let you know. See you later, girlfriend.”

  His attempt to sarcastically confirm our relationship fell flat. His whole body was rigid, his eyes full of unasked questions, and I could feel them on me as I got into my car and drove off—like he was afraid to look away. Like if he did, I would disappear just like Danielle.

  * * *

  My phone rang during dinner, and I dared a glance at the screen under Gramps’ watchful eye.

  “I’ve got to take this,” I told him, jumping out of my seat and heading down the hall before he could read me the riot act about no phones at the table. I closed the bedroom door behind me and answered Striker’s call. “Hey Striker! What—”

  “I don’t know how your dad got this photo or how he knew to get it in the first place, but you’ve come across a real land mine here, Kylene.” I couldn’t come up with a reply fast enough, my mind racing with possibilities. “The guy in that picture with Reider? He’s with the Mafia in Jersey. One of the bigger families. What I’ve been able to gather in this short amount of time is that Reider had a little too much fun in Atlantic City.… He was in debt, Ky. Lots of it—and with the wrong people. The kind that make you pay in broken body parts and threats against your family. Possibly favors, if you’re in the right profession.”

  Like an FBI agent in cybercrime.

  “Holy shit—”

  “And, from what I can tell, this was going on for some time.”

  “That’s it, Striker! Dad knew Reider was the dirty one. That he was indebted to this Mafia family and was manufacturing evidence against my dad because he was getting too close!”

  I was shouting, my adrenaline and excitement too much to contain. Seconds later, Gramps was knocking on my door.

  “What’s all this shoutin’ about?” he asked, poking his weary face in.

  “Striker found a break in Dad’s case!” I replied.

  “’Bout damn time somebody did. Tell him good job—and keep it up.”

  I couldn’t ignore the sense of urgency in Gramps’ tone when he delivered those final words. They made me cringe.

  “Kylene,” Striker said, drawing my attention back. “I have a few more things to look into, but this file you found—it’s huge.”

  He hung up without another word.

  I looked over to where Gramps stood. “Why did you sound so desperate when you said that? About Striker keeping it up?”

  “It’s nothin’, Junebug. Just rumors spreadin’ through the prison. Can’t take them too serious. Those inmates ain’t got nothin’ but time on their hands to come up with wild stories to tell. And your daddy ain’t in with most of them anyway.”

  My eyes narrowed at Gramps’ careful choice of words. He wouldn’t lie to his Junebug—at least not outright. But he’d sure as hell paint a prettier picture than the one that existed to keep my worries at bay.

  “You think they could get to him if they wanted to?”

  Out of the frying pan. Into the fire.

  I’d cornered Gramps, and, judging by the look on his face, he knew it. He scrubbed at his chin stubble for a moment, trying to find a way out, then exhaled hard when he realized he didn’t have one.

  “There’s always a way if you want one bad enough,” he finally said. My blood ran cold. “Only way to avoid that is to get him out. Sooner than later.”

  He walked down the hall, leaving me with that bombshell. I needed Striker to co
me up with a way to tie Reider’s gambling issues to my dad’s case, and fast. Apparently, the clock was already ticking.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Dawson texted me early the next day to say that the paper was clean. No DNA or fingerprints to be found. Though I wasn’t surprised, I was still disappointed. For all our sakes, I’d hoped to catch a break with that note.

  I ran out of the bathroom just after the bell rang and nearly collided with Principal Thompson.

  “Just who I wanted to see,” he said in a friendly tone. “Please join me in my office, Kylene.”

  I followed him there and hovered by a chair while he closed the door.

  “Have a seat,” he said, indicating one in front of his desk. I did as he asked, trying to keep my curiosity from my expression. Neutrality was best when facing authority. Indifference was hardest to interpret and the least damning. “I wanted to talk to you about some of your recent behaviors.”

  “Okay…”

  “I’ve heard that not all your homework assignments have been turned in yet. You’ve also been cutting classes and showing a general disregard for your schoolwork—”

  “I let Mrs. Baber know I wasn’t feeling good!”

  He gave me a look of disappointment.

  “That may be the case, but signing yourself out is not a power you should abuse to suit your … personal interests.…” He let his words trail off while he tried to figure out how best to call me out on what I’d done.

  “Personal interests?” I asked, irritation seeping into my tone. So much for neutrality. “Which ones might those be? The nap-and-chicken-noodle-soup kind?”

  “No, the going-over-to-your-boyfriend’s-house kind.”

  Adrenaline shot through me and I tried to school my features to keep my face from giving me away.

  “Not sure why you think that’s where I went—”

  “Please don’t insult my intelligence. Alex Cedrics is your boyfriend, correct?”

  “What does he have to do—”

  “You of all people should know this is a small town that likes to talk. How long did you think it would take before your whereabouts when you skipped school got back to me?” I stared at him, trying to think of something to say, but Mr. Thompson just kept on going. “That boy has been absent more than present since he started here. His teachers have noted his aloof nature in class. His poor participation. How easily distracted he seems to be.”

  “Your point?”

  His expression soured.

  “My point is I think he’s a poor influence on you, Kylene, especially at this … delicate time in your life.”

  A cool numbness crept its way through my body.

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “That maybe you consider your current situation and decide if he’s helping or hurting it.”

  I leaned forward in my chair as a thought popped into my head.

  “Why do you care so much?”

  He looked honest-to-God shocked at that question.

  “It’s my job to care, Kylene.”

  I scoffed, thinking about how little he’d likely “cared” for Danielle Green. How he hadn’t followed protocol for her chronic truancy. How either he’d let her fall through the cracks because of who she was, or maybe—just maybe—he’d wanted her disappearance to go unnoticed because he was the one who’d caused it.

  “While I appreciate your concern,” I said, my tone sounding anything but thankful, “Alex is basically all I have at this point. If I break up with him, I have nobody.”

  “What about your grandfather?”

  “He’s always working. We need the money.…”

  “What about Garrett? You two were close before—”

  Time to let the lies fly.…

  “He nearly died because of me. That’s kind of a relationship killer.”

  “And Tabby? I always see you two together in the halls.”

  “She’s taking Garrett’s side.”

  His expression softened.

  “Staying with Alex because you have no one else is not a good reason to throw your future away. Maybe you could use the time you normally spend with him working. I’m sure I could help you find something.…”

  Chills ran down my spine.

  “Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I said, getting out of my seat. “Are we done here?”

  His eyes narrowed, thinly veiling the frustration he felt at my dismissal.

  “I’d like to follow up about this issue soon. Until then, I’ll let your teachers know you need more time with your assignments.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled on my way to the door.

  “Kylene,” he said, hesitating a bit. “You can come to me about anything. I’m here to help.”

  Yeah … help exploit me, maybe.

  “Got it.”

  I walked out of his office, my pace quickening with every step. In all our investigating, I’d never wanted to believe that Principal Thompson was involved. That he was too nice—too cool—for that. But after that meeting with him, I wondered if that was his angle. If he lured vulnerable students in by putting the “pal” in principal, using his position to find the perfect harem of socially marginalized girls to pimp out. I shuddered at the thought.

  Regardless, I needed to talk to my deadbeat boyfriend about it and get his take. Maybe we needed to try harder to connect Thompson to the sixth girl. Maybe we needed to search his closet for skeletons, too.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Late-night errands were my favorite kind, mainly because nobody else was out. Even on a Friday night, store traffic was minimal, so I threw on some crappy sweatpants and a hoodie and made my way there. I needed to do a better job pulling my weight around the house for Gramps’ sake.

  It didn’t take long to gather the groceries we needed. I was halfway to the register when someone stepped out of the nearest aisle right in front of me. I stopped short, a strange feeling of dread crawling its way up my back. Then Tyson looked back to find me staring at him. I did my best to recover and school my features, but judging by his, I failed.

  “What’s up, Danners? You all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Yeah,” I said, shaking my head as I forced a laugh. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”

  He stared at me for a beat, assessing my answer. “You haven’t been by the gym for a while.”

  “I know. I think I might have pushed too hard last time. I’ve been paying for it ever since,” I replied, moving my arm to illustrate how stiff it was—or I was making it look.

  “Injuries are tough. Sometimes you need to push through them. Sometimes you need to lay off. You’re a smart kid. Do what you think is best.”

  “That’s the plan.” An awkward silence began to build between us—one that had never been there before. I fumbled for something to say. “So, what are you doing here?”

  He held up a case of beer. “I got a date.”

  “With a twelve pack?”

  “Nah. Those are for the date.”

  “Oh. Guess I should let you get to it, then.”

  “Yeah. Probably should.” He remained where he stood, still staring at me. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “Yep. Never better.”

  “Cool,” he said, heading for the express checkout. “See you around.”

  The cashier was still ringing me up when Tyson paid for his beer and walked out without a glance in my direction.

  He should have been gone by the time I reached the parking lot, but I could see his black-on-black truck in the back row, his interior light on. He was checking his phone for something, but I didn’t care about that. All I cared about was the girl sitting just beyond him in the passenger seat. The one that looked too young to be in there with him. I hoped that maybe it was just the dim interior lighting or my overactive imagination playing tricks on me, but I wasn’t sure about that.

  Then Dawson’s words leaked into my mind, forever taunting me. “What we want to believe and what’s actually tr
ue are rarely if ever the same thing, Danners.…”

  Unable to clear my head of the thought that Tyson might be with an underage girl, or, worse yet, pimping her out, I ran to my car and tossed the bags in the trunk. I rode past his truck, needing to get a better look. As I neared, the girl lifted her head so the full light of the car and Tyson’s phone highlighted her face. I knew instantly who she was and let out a sigh of relief. Autumn Wolfhart had been the town’s Winter Festival Queen when I was in grade school. She had to have been in her midtwenties.

  I raced out of the parking lot as though I could outrun the paranoia forever looming over me.

  * * *

  I spent the better part of the next day doing busywork around the house. My run-in with Tyson had me spooked and I only slept a few hours. The plan was to tire myself out, nap, then wake up just in time to go to AJ’s with Garrett and Tabby.

  But, of course, that didn’t happen.

  Just as I was about to nod off, my phone started ringing. I picked it up to find Meg calling. I bolted upright on the couch and answered.

  “Did you find anything?” I blurted out.

  “Hello to you, too,” she said with a laugh. “And my answer to your question is twofold. No, I didn’t find what we need, but what I did find is a whole lot of questionable lawyering for the defense. Your dad’s attorney missed a lot of opportunities to object … redirect…”

  “In English, Meg. What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying he was incompetent at best. He clearly wasn’t capable of handling your father’s case.”

  Oh. My. God.

  “You think it was intentional? His incompetent behavior, I mean?”

  “I think I want your father’s files transferred over to me so that I can comb through them to see what other balls this clown dropped during your dad’s trial.”

  “Great! Let’s do it! What do you need from me?”

  “Nothing from you, unless you want to be the one to get your father’s signature on the paperwork required to fire his attorney and agree to retain me instead.”