“The ambulance is on their way,” Mr. C said, pushing his way through the students.
Then without warning, her hand went limp.
Cries filled the room.
Remembering what Dad taught me, I checked her wrist for a pulse.
Nothing.
My throat tightened.
“This isn’t right,” a person said.
Hot tears burned my cheeks.
I don’t know how long I stood there staring at Mr. C as he tried to revive Devin. But before I knew it, the ambulance had arrived, and we were cleared out of the auditorium.
As we scattered out into the hallway, students found their private huddles while I stood alone, staring out the windows, watching the red and blue lights slash at the glass with every turn.
Cops entered the school. Some went into the auditorium, and a few stayed behind to ask us questions.
“Were you close to Miss Worthy?” an officer asked.
“Best friends.”
“Did you notice anything unusual?”
“No.”
“Was she taking any drugs?”
I shook on the inside. Is it because she’s in high school, that you assume she might be on drugs? “No. But she has severe allergies to just about everything. That’s why I asked for her EpiPen, but it was too late. It happened after she took a drink from the bottle. But we made sure to use water as the drink.”
The officer wrote down some notes. “Did you two have a fight recently?”
“No.”
“How about anyone else. Did Devin get into an argument here or at home?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.” The officer walked away and went to interview another student.
I plodded down the two stairs leading to the outside wall of the auditorium and ran my fingers over the map with a red tack pinned on The Welton Theatre. It was Devin’s favorite place to see film, poets, and musicians from all backgrounds.
The story about The Welton refreshed in my memory as if Mr. C was telling it for the first time. “In 1977, Playwright Donald Steen was shamed for writing a play that had a gay couple as the main characters. He refused to let his play be canceled because of critics who wanted to keep him quiet. Instead, to keep his dream alive, he relocated his play from the suburbs to the five points, one of the sketchiest places in Denver at the time. What was he trying to prove?”
Devin said, “That this was his story and he was going to tell it the way he wanted.”
I wanted to cry again but now wasn’t the time. If Devin were here, she’d tell me to “suck it up, Buttercup.” I pulled out the yearbook and tore out Devin’s photo, placing it under the tack. Enjoy your time at the theatre.
“Oliana,” said Dad from behind me.
Relief filled my heart as I turned and hugged him. “How did you find out?”
“A notification from the school’s group page. It mentioned that a tragedy happened here at the school and that parents should attempt to locate their children.”
“Where’s Mom?”
“In the parking lot having a cigarette. What happened?”
And Mom couldn’t wait to have her cigarette after she checked on me?
More tears.
“Something happened to Devin,” I said between breaths. “Something weird. I think she’s dead.”
“We’re canceling the trip,” said Dad. “You need us here.”
“You can’t. Mom needs to leave. I’m worried about her. Anyway, I’m old enough to do something on my own without parents hovering.”
“This is a big deal.”
“So is keeping mom sober,” I said in a low whisper. “Besides, I don’t think much is going to happen while you’re gone.”
“I guess you’re more grown up than I realized.”
Mom came through the doors and hurried inside with her arms outstretched. “Devin’s mom just called me. I told her I’d be right over after we left here.” She pulled me to her and I wrapped my arms around her neck, tight, like I used to do when I was little. Clinging to her as if I’d had a nightmare.
She stroked my hair. “Dad and I are here for you. Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll try.”
As crazy as it seemed, I was craving alone time. I needed time to breathe. I needed time to think. For once, I felt ready to step out of my parents’ shadow.
Chapter 4
Rumors and Reality
That following Monday, Dad, and Mom packed their duffle bags and loaded up the truck. Even though I wanted to be treated like a young woman getting ready to step into the world, I knew Dad wasn’t going to leave out of the driveway without giving me a lecture.
“No social media posts about being home alone. There are crazy people watching everything you do.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“If it gets too hot in the house, use the air conditioner. No open windows.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“If you need help—”
“Go to the neighbors. Yes, Dad. I’ll be okay.”
“Oli, be respectful. Your dad’s trying to help.” Mom tossed her cigarette on the ground and stepped on it.
Fanning the smoke, I squinted at the smoldering cigarette and watched as ashes dropped into the dents along the broken concrete. “Is that your last one?”
“I’m hoping.” Mom climbed into the truck. “At least I’m not drinking.” She shut the door and waved goodbye.
Dad’s engine roared to life. He put his head out the window and said, “Better hurry and get to school.”
“I’ve been exempted from my history and algebra exams. I don’t have to be in until later this morning.”
Dad winked at me, backed out of the driveway and seconds later, they were on their way to a cabin in Colorado Springs.
As I entered the house, I pulled out my phone and checked our school’s website. An online memorial with pictures of Devin covered the front page. Just below it was information for grief counseling for students.
After everyone had left, I collapsed on my bed and closed my eyes. Before long, I was soothed to sleep by the quietness in the house.
Pounding.
I opened my eyes, listening for the sound.
More pounding rattled the knocker on the front door.
I jumped out of bed, my heart racing as I ran to see who was at the door. James. Why is he here?
I took the chain off the door, opened it and stumbled backward as James pushed his way inside. Sweat dripped off his chapped lips and clung to an unruly hair from his goatee.
“What the hell, James,” I said.
James leaned against the door, closed it and slid to the floor. “I’m in trouble.”
“Why didn’t you go home?”
“This is the last place they’d look for me? Let me hang out here for a sec.”
“Who’s they?”
“The cops. They think I killed Devin.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“You weren’t happy that she was pregnant.”
“Why should I be. Doesn’t mean I killed her. Some even think it was a suicide.”
“No way,” I said.
“I need your help.”
Thoughts whipped in my head as I decided if I should believe anything that came out of James’s mouth.
“I think you should go.” I looked out the window. “My parents will be back home any second.”
James looked at me, his face twisted in rage. He yanked on my arm, pulling me close. “I didn’t kill Devin. Check with Austin. He was the last one seen with her.”
“Let me go,” I said wrestling my arm free.
James backed away, shoving his hands in his pocket. “I’m sorry. Go talk to him.”
“Talk to him about what? Did you ask him to try and change Devin’s mind about keeping the baby?”
“He offered.”
I pushed James to the side and opened the door. “Get out. Or I’ll call the cops.”
I
watched as James fled out the door, cutting across a neighbor’s yard. What the hell just happened?
Another wave of bad news blasted into my reality when I arrived at school around eleven o’clock. A sense of mourning hung in the air as students roamed the halls, hiding their faces inside their hoodies. Others stood nearby the auditorium, lingering with tears pooling in the corners of their eyes.
As I passed by the auditorium doors, I halted in my tracks. For the first time, the doors were closed. Shut, as if seeing the stage that once held many auditions and performances, was to be kept hidden.
I hurried to class, straining to hear the rumors traveling between the lockers about Devin dying from an allergic reaction from peanut oil. And that it was done on purpose. How did they know for sure? Was it on the news? Had the cops spoken with someone who’d passed it on? This was crazy.
A girl who saw me coming snickered and said, “I hear your boyfriend’s going to jail.”
Nervousness trickled in as I searched for Austin, but there was no sign of him or James.
With an hour left of school, Austin returned, and I cornered him at his locker. “Why would the police think you had something to with what happened to Devin?’
“Devin and I argued about her leaving my boy, James alone.”
“It was none of your business.”
“I made it my business.” Austin walked around me and stormed off toward the band room.
The words, let me help you, halted in my throat. It made no sense to chase after him. No matter what James had told me, it was hard to see Austin lifting a finger to hurt someone. But I figured at least I could step in to prove that my boyfriend was innocent. If it were true.
When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed a police car parked across the street. I shut off the engine and glanced in my side mirror. A tall man in a police uniform and a short woman who was casually dressed crossed the street and headed in my direction. Their shadows were in sync.
I grabbed my backpack, got out and met them on the sidewalk.
The woman raised her sunglasses and flashed her badge. “Oliana Mercer?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Detective Tanner. I want to ask you a few questions about your friend Devin.”
“I don’t have much to say.”
“Would it be okay if you went to the police station and gave a statement.” Detective Tanner pointed to the tall man. “Officer Bloom will drive us down.”
“Can’t we talk here?”
“I’d rather do everything downtown. To keep things in order. Once the interview is over, we’ll bring you back.”
“Interview? Is this something I need a lawyer for?”
“No,” said Detective Tanner. “We just need your help to piece things together.”
I looked back at the house then back at the cops. I hadn’t done anything wrong. And I didn’t have anything to hide. Were they going to ask me about Austin? Maybe I can learn something from this interview. “Sure. I’ll go. But I need to call my dad.”
Dad answered on the first ring, and I told him what was going on.
“Let me speak to the police.”
I handed the detective my phone and listened as she told him the exact thing she told me.
“Yes. I understand,” Tanner said. “Thank you for letting your daughter talk to us.”
I took the phone and said, “Dad?”
“Your mother and I think it’s fine. Call as soon as you get back home.”
“Yes, Dad.” I hung up and followed them across the street and into the back seat of the car.
Detective Tanner sat next to me, closing the door with force. “Let’s go.”
The cruiser pulled away from the curb, and in seven minutes we were on the highway headed toward downtown Denver. The road hummed underneath the tires as they popped in and out of potholes.
I didn’t realize I’d been sitting forward until a cramp seeped in along my lower back. I shifted in my seat, trying to keep my mind from trotting out scenarios about what would happen if my answers led to my boyfriend being arrested.
Anxiety swirled around me as I took in my surroundings. A slate of Plexiglas separated the front of the cruiser from the back, giving me a clear view of the laptop mounted on the console.
I leaned back trying not to inhale the smell of deodorized vomit seeping up from the floor. It took me back to last year when I volunteered for stage work at the Fillmore Auditorium. A nervous talent puked during a cold read. No matter how much I cleaned and sprayed, what had slipped between the cracks plagued the cast for the rest of the week.
Detective Tanner said, “When will your parents be home?”
“In a couple of days. My brother and I have a nanny.”
“I had a nanny growing up. She went with us everywhere we went. I’m an army brat. Ever heard of one?”
“Isn’t that when you move a lot because your parent’s in the military?”
Tanner nodded. “Both of mine served. I lost my mother when I was young.”
In the distance, someone leaned on their horn, dulling the sounds of dubstep music bumping from the car next to us.
We slowed to a stop at a traffic light, pulling alongside the vehicle with the music. The driver looked our way, turned down his beats and nodded at Officer Bloom.
Bloom returned the nod and proceeded on our green arrow, turning left onto Olive St.
After driving several blocks, high-rise buildings came into view as we entered the heart of downtown Denver. A light rail zipped by headed in the direction of the airport.
Curiosity passed through me as we advanced further down the street, passing a bowling alley, a barbershop, and a liquor store. This was a side of life that I’d seen only in the movies. Women dressed in short tops and skirts with stiletto heels hung out on the corners, sizing up guys who passed them by. Were they waiting to be picked-up by someone interested in more than just talking? Were the men stepping away from passenger side windows after completing a drug deal?
Austin’s face flashed before me as Officer Bloom made another left, tightening his turn around a corner until he found a parking spot at the Denver Police Department. I never knew how much I cared for Austin until that moment. He was more than a friend in my heart. But was it worth pushing the envelope with my parents? Was he the high school sweetheart that I’d marry later in life?
I knew what I wanted in life. It wasn’t to get married or have babies right after school. It was to pursue my acting career and one day become a part of the Hollywood scene. That was at least four years of hard work and training. And that was just the beginning. The more I thought about it, having kids weren’t a part of my plan. But in my heart of hearts, Austin was the one for me. No matter what, we’d work something out.
Officer Bloom opened my door. I got out and followed Detective Tanner and Officer Bloom into the police station, into the elevator, and up to the third floor. When I exited the elevator, phones ringing and police radios crackling filled the air. Shoes squeaked on the tile floor as we made our way down a hallway, lined with doors on each side.
Detective Tanner stopped at a door labeled Interview Room 1, opened it and motioned for me to come inside. “We think your boyfriend might know more than what he’s telling.”
“But there’s no proof,” I said, sitting on a plastic chair.
“We have proof. Austin was one of the last people seen with Devin backstage.”
My blood ran cold. “Austin’s not in the play.”
“That’s why we’re concerned. Is it true that Devin was allergic to nuts?”
“Is that how she died?”
“It’s looking that way, but we won’t know for sure until later. Who had access to the bottles?”
“Anyone backstage.”
“Do you remember seeing Austin before the play started?”
“No. I was running late that day. Devin texted me, reminding me about the rehearsal.”
Detective Tanner thumbed through her notes. “You�
�re a student director. Sounds important.”
“Yes.”
“What kept you from arriving on time?”
“I got tied up with my parents.”
“And your parents will backup your story?”
“Backup? It’s the truth.” I shoved my sweaty hands into my pockets. Do they suspect me? Why? Because I’m Austin’s girlfriend? Maybe they think I’m trying to protect him. Did Detective Tanner lie about this being an interview just to get me down here? “This is supposed to be about Austin?”
Detective Tanner eyes dropped to my pockets. “Are you nervous?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t be. Unless you’re lying to me. This round of questions helps us help you sort things out.”
Help me, help you. Why did it seem like most of the adults I met made it a point to prove that whatever came out of their mouth was for my benefit? My parents, yes. My school teachers, maybe. But a cop who didn’t have a clue about me? I don’t think so.
“Did you see Austin anytime on Saturday?” Detective Tanner checked her cell phone, then looked at me.
“No.”
“In the days before Devin was killed, did Austin talk to you about Devin and her boyfriend?”
“Just that Devin was bothering James. She’d just found out she was pregnant.”
“Is James the father?”
I nodded my head. “Devin mentioned to me that James was ignoring her. And that she was having problems with River Fuller.”
“Is she an ex?”
“Yes. She was giving my friend a hard time about dating James. Sending her nasty messages.” I showed the detective screen shots on my phone.
Tanner took pictures and said, “Anything else that’s been discussed lately? That might not seem relevant from James, River or your boyfriend.”
I shook my head. “My mind’s been on the play.”
Detective Tanner scribbled in her pad and looked up at me. “That’ll be all for now.” She gathered her things, and I followed her out.
Relief surfed my body like a caffeine buzz as the police car pulled up to my house. After Officer Bloom let me out, I jetted for the door. Once inside, I tossed my backpack on the couch and paced the living room. The soles of my sneakers tapped the floor, poking holes into my thoughts.
Shadowed Seats: (Oliana Mercer series Book 1) Page 3