We didn’t have time for that.
We were too close to catching the killer to let that get in the way.
FORTY-ONE
I hadn’t seen or heard from Dawson all day. He didn’t—or wouldn’t—return my calls or texts. I couldn’t find him in any of his classes when I took the hall pass each period so I could stalk him. With every strikeout, I felt worse about what I’d done.
It wasn’t until the final football pep rally for the year that I saw him, and I couldn’t have been more relieved. Yeah, we had other things to focus on than Reider’s sketchy past and me throwing it in Dawson’s face, but I needed to make sure we were okay first. I needed the feeling of grounding he provided, selfish though it was. Without it, I feared I would spiral out of control.
“Hey,” he said as he walked toward me.
“Hey…”
“Ky!” Tabby shouted from the bleachers, her high-pitched voice cutting through the awkwardness between Dawson and me. “Up here!”
Dawson said nothing but led the way up to the riser in front of where Garrett, Tabby, and AJ sat wedged in with the other students. She removed the backpacks she’d used to save our seats, and we sat down in front of them. The leftover tension from the night brewed between us as cheerleaders tumbled across the floor to the cheers of the student body.
I leaned in close to Dawson so he could hear me over the festivities.
“I’m sorry about last night—”
“I know you are,” he replied, still looking down at the court.
“It was a dick move,” I said, reaching to touch him, then pulling up short. “I don’t know why I did it.”
He turned to reply, his stare a mix of hurt and anger, but then Principal Thompson jogged to center court, microphone in hand. The band finished playing our fight song and the crowd quieted down so Principal Thompson could begin his obligatory end-of-season pep talk.
I tuned out for that.
Instead, I ignored the vibes rolling off Dawson and scoured the bleachers to find Missy, my fingers gripping the edge of my seat. I needed to know she was okay. I needed to see that she hadn’t become another unfortunate statistic.
Coach stood along the far wall of the gym, looking like his usual smug, warm-up-clad self. I wanted to smack that look off his face so badly it hurt. Unfortunately for me, I wouldn’t get the chance.
Movement from the door near the far bleachers caught my attention, and I looked up to see Sheriff Higgins walk in. I turned to ask Garrett if his dad was picking him up, then stopped the second my brain caught up. The sheriff wasn’t there for his son.
I leaned in close to Dawson, my lips grazing his ear so we wouldn’t be overheard. “Sheriff Higgins, ten o’clock.” Dawson’s gaze fell upon the sheriff, and he sat up straight in his seat. “Did you make that anonymous call?” He shook his head. “Holy shit…” He leaned forward in his seat, but I pulled him back into me. “He wouldn’t do it here, would he?”
Dawson merely nodded in response.
Holy shit was right.
With a million thoughts running wild in my mind, I blocked out everything else going on in that gym, my focus squarely on the sheriff. Somehow, everyone seemed oblivious to his presence—or maybe they thought he was just there to show his support for the team. Man, were those idiots about to get a wake-up call like a two-by-four to the head.
Perched at the edge of my seat, I looked on as Sheriff Higgins walked along the wall toward Coach. By the time he reached him, my heart was in my throat, and I was clutching Dawson’s knee so tight he had to pry my hand off. When the sheriff leaned in to say something to Coach, Principal Thompson called Coach out to address the crowd. He glanced at the sheriff before dismissing him with an index finger in the air, then strolled out to the middle of the court like he wasn’t about to be arrested for screwing jailbait.
Hubris like that was hard to come by.
Sheriff Higgins’ face went beet red as he fumed on the sidelines. Then he lifted his hand to wave over two deputies who were discreetly waiting in the wings behind the cover of the bleachers. The three of them walked in formation to center court where Coach was droning on about how we could finish the season with pride despite all the heavy hits the team took this year. He made a point of staring at me when he delivered that blow.
I smiled back at him, knowing what he was in for.
He didn’t even notice the trio until one of the deputies stepped behind him and wrenched his free arm behind his back. Coach instinctively tried to pull away, so the other deputy stepped in to aid in cuffing him. The whole student body was silent, staring at what seemed an improbable if not impossible sight before them. Even Principal Thompson looked shocked. He took the microphone away from Coach so the deputies could finish securing his arms behind him. Just as he did, Sheriff Higgins spoke.
“Coach Blackthorn, you are under arrest for statutory rape, engaging in a sex act with a minor, and—”
Principal Thompson quickly shut off the mic, but I knew how the rest went. A laundry list of charges revolving around Coach’s relationship with Missy were being listed off one by one.
“I need to get out of here,” Dawson whispered in my ear. He moved to get up, but I grabbed his leg to keep him still.
“Wait” was all I said in response.
“I can’t believe this,” AJ said behind me, the first of the three of them to utter a word. “Coach? Having sex with a minor?”
“This is crazy,” Garrett echoed.
Tabby couldn’t seem to find her voice. Instead, she just gaped at the coach as he was led away.
The silence in the room disappeared in a flash. Replacing it was a roar of questions and myriad outbursts ranging from outrage and indignation to applause. Poor Principal Thompson was left to try and pick up the pieces, but he looked so stunned, I was worried he, like Tabby, was at a loss for words. Finally, he just dismissed us, his bewildered expression still intact as he did.
“Let’s go,” Dawson said, standing up.
“See you guys later,” I said over my shoulder to my trio of friends, who still couldn’t reconcile what they’d just seen.
Dawson practically dragged me out of the gym, not letting go of my hand until we were well on our way to the parking lot.
“I need to get down there,” he said in a hushed voice. “I need to get his DNA somehow.”
“Won’t they do that?”
He shot me a dubious look. “Yes, and they’ll probably screw it up. So I’m going to secure my own sample.”
“How?”
His mischievous smirk was answer enough. “However I can within the letter of the law … ish.”
Before I could adequately portray my disbelief at his words, he ran off to his car and tore out of the parking lot. I watched as he drove away, then headed for Heidi. Looking at me from beyond my car, standing in front of the school, was Mr. Callahan. He stared at me with a look of contempt beyond any I’d ever seen. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he somehow knew I was involved in what went down at the pep rally. That my “witch hunt” had brought down one of his colleagues.
I smiled at the thought.
As I drove away, I wondered how Dawson could get what we needed: the DNA that would bring down a pedophile and possibly put a murderer in prison. It had the potential to end Jane’s and so many others’ nightmares. And get justice for the Throwaways.
FORTY-TWO
About an hour after school let out, Dawson texted me; he was on his way up to Columbus with what he needed. He also mentioned that Coach broke under Sheriff Higgins’ interrogation. He admitted to having had a sexual relationship with Missy—and others, including Danielle Green. Ice ran down my spine at the thought.
I wondered how long it would take for him to admit to her murder, not that it mattered. With Dawson procuring his DNA, we’d have concrete proof soon enough.
I did my best to act normal around Gramps, but it was damn near impossible. When I sat on my hands to keep them still, he finally pu
t his fork down and shot me a look that said “maybe you should just spit it out, girl.”
“I’m just excited about the big after party tonight,” I lied.
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then took a long bite of his famous pot roast. I thought he’d never swallow.
“Kids treatin’ you better over there now after the Donovan mess?”
“Yeah. Kinda. It’s an upgrade for sure.”
“Where’s this party gonna be?”
“… At AJ’s.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Your boyfriend goin’ with you?”
“He’s in Columbus right now. He said he might make it back in time.”
Silence.
“You sure it’s wise you go without him?”
“Because a girl can’t go anywhere without her boyfriend?”
“No. Because I know how you used to feel about AJ—”
“Gramps—”
“And I’m just not sure that puttin’ yourself in that situation is a good idea. It ain’t fair to anyone involved, including that boyfriend of yours.”
I released my hands to take a bite of food. I needed to stall.
“Gramps,” I said, mouth half-full. “Alex is fine with AJ. He understands that we used to date and that the circumstances surrounding our breakup were complicated. He doesn’t care.”
“Maybe he should.…”
“Gramps!” I said, truly surprised.
“Just mind yourself, Kylene. People’s feelings ain’t somethin’ to take lightly.”
Didn’t I know a thing or two about that.
“I’m well aware of everyone’s feelings, Gramps, including my own, which should count for something in this equation.” He said nothing in response. “I should probably go get Tabby. I finally broke down and agreed to go to the game tonight.”
“Last one of the season.”
“Yep.”
“Hope AJ leads ’em to victory,” Gramps said, the lack of enthusiasm in his expression duly noted.
“I’ll be home late, if that’s okay.”
He nodded. “Just remember what I told ya, and it’s fine with me.”
I took a deep breath, then walked over and kissed Gramps on the cheek. Whatever aura of disapproval that had been there melted away in an instant.
“If it’s going to be after midnight, I’ll be sure to call and let you know.”
“You do that.”
* * *
I checked my phone incessantly through the first half of the game. Tabby was actually irritated with me, like somehow AJ could see that I wasn’t paying attention and we’d lose the game because of it. Garrett, however, just shot me nasty looks, like he knew I was up to something I wasn’t telling him about, which, as it turned out, was true enough. But it was also likely over.
I just needed the text from Dawson to confirm it.
My bladder acted up late in the third quarter. I practically had to run to the bathroom to avoid disaster. On my way out of the ladies’ room, someone grabbed my arm and dragged me around to the other side of the building. Déjà vu slammed me hard, memories of me and Jaime behind the concession stand at the drive-in flashing through my mind. But when I looked at who’d accosted me, it certainly wasn’t Jaime.
A girl stood there, glaring at me.
A girl I didn’t recognize at first.
“What are you doing?” she asked, voice full of anger.
“Peeing. You?”
She snorted. “You’re a piece of work.” She dropped my arm to step away. It was then that I realized who she was. The other girl from Marco’s Pizza. Missy’s formerly nameless friend—her trailer park sister.
Jane.
“Why yes, Jane, I am.”
Her expression remained unfazed.
“Coach was arrested but Missy went AWOL. She’s nowhere to be found, Kylene. What if he got to her?”
“Can you reach her?”
“No. Her phone goes straight to voicemail.”
“Sheriff Higgins will be looking for her.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe there’s nothin’ left to find unless they scrape her off the bottom of the river like they did Danielle.”
“Jane—”
“Shayna,” she interrupted. “My name is Shayna.”
“Fine. Shayna, I need you to tell me everything. When you last talked to her. What she said. All of it.”
She filled me in on their last interactions, but there was nothing to glean from them, just frantic messages about whether or not she’d done the right thing going to the police.
“If he’s really the guy that’s running the girls—that killed Danielle,” Shayna said, “then he had to have done it last night. She wasn’t at school today at all.”
“She could just be laying low,” I suggested. It was met with an incredulous glare.
“Or she could be dead. Either way, how long do you think it’s going to take for Coach to get out on bail and come looking for the girl that put her up to it?”
“You think he knows?”
“It’s a small town.…”
“That’s why you’re here,” I said, putting two and two together.
She nodded once. “Hard to kill me in public. I wonder if he knows that you know about what he’s been doing? About the missing girls…,” she said, her eyes filled with hope that maybe I could assuage her concerns. But I wasn’t sure I could and didn’t think I should. She was right to be paranoid. Paranoia could keep you alive.
“Stay at the game tonight,” I said, leaning in close. “AJ is having a party afterward. Maybe you could go to that, too?”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t make it through the door, but I’ll go hang out at Matthew’s Ice Cream or Marco’s—somewhere open late and extremely public. I’ll crash at a neighbor’s tonight just to be safe.”
“Okay. You text me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.”
“Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder, that trusty paranoia kicking back in again. “I should go. We shouldn’t be seen together.”
Without another word, she took off under the bleachers, disappearing into the darkness.
I let out a deep breath, then texted Dawson, telling him what I’d learned. Minutes later, he texted back a slew of four-letter words in response. He’d get Higgins on it ASAP or the sheriff would be on his shit list yet again.
* * *
The Jasperville Badgers won the game by the skin of their teeth. While everyone around us was celebrating, Garrett looked like he was ready to pass out, so Tabby and I helped him down the bleachers and out to the street.
I told them to wait for me, and I ran ahead to get the car. By the time I made it there, I’d passed half the town and almost the entire JHS student body, teachers included. Whatever would they all do now that football season was over? Oh yeah … basketball.
As I ran to the car, my phone began buzzing. By the time I fished it out, it had gone to voicemail. I played it, worried what that message might contain, but for once in my life, it was good news. Missy had surfaced unscathed. She was with Jane, aka Shayna, for the night.
Two Throwaway Girls who would not meet their namesake’s fate.
I texted Dawson to update him, then drove to pick up my friends. Tabby got Garrett into the front seat and I drove him home to an empty house. I got him some food while Tabby helped him to his room. He threw her out when she offered to help him get changed, and I just about dropped the plate of food I was holding. She came into the kitchen, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and merely shrugged.
“You can’t blame me for trying” was all she had to say for herself.
Once Garrett was fed and safely in bed (I took the lead on that activity since Tabby’s hormones had gone rogue), the two of us headed over to AJ’s to the party I wasn’t certain I wanted to go to—or should go to, for that matter. As wrong as I wanted Gramps to be about what my presence there could mean, he wasn’t. But with everything else going on, I just wanted that one night to
feel normal. To be the teen I was supposed to be.
Not the crime-fighting vigilante I’d become.
FORTY-THREE
Tabby and I walked into a mob of bodies.
Music was blaring so loud I could hardly think straight. How the cops hadn’t come by yet to shut it down, I didn’t know. But really, I did. They had bigger fish to fry, and the neighbors wouldn’t be complaining anytime soon. Jasperville was too elated with the win to shut down the quarterback’s party.
“I have to pee!” Tabby shouted over the bass. She headed toward the powder room as I pushed her from behind to help her cut through the crowd. With more effort than it should have taken, we made it to the bathroom on the first floor in the hallway to the kitchen.
“I’ll wait out here. No room for both of us in there.”
She nodded and went in not realizing that I was guarding the door more than anything. The lock on that thing hadn’t worked for years. I highly doubted they’d gotten it fixed since I’d used it last.
While I waited for Tabby to do what seemed to be the longest pee ever, I scanned the crowd. The faces were all familiar. The scene reminiscent of every party I’d ever been to at AJ’s house. Like the one that had changed everything between us.
A doorknob to my back jolted my mind back to the present.
“Ow!”
“Sorry!” Tabby said, sounding more Canadian than usual. Something about apologizing really amped up the girl’s accent.
“You’re good. Where to now?”
She shot me an impish grin that would have made Garrett proud. “Where do you think?”
She started off toward the kitchen, and I followed behind. I never would have figured her for a drinker when I met her. But, then again, I wouldn’t have expected her to try to strip Garrett, so maybe my judgment really was crap.
Don't Say a Word (Hometown Antihero) Page 23