Haven

by Mary Lindsey

  “What-fucking-ever.”

  He picked up his bag and wandered again to the front of the building. Headlights approached from the side street. The familiar shape of a Crown Vic with overheads sent him slinking back to the far end of the station, where he ducked behind the dumpster. He heard the police cruiser slow, followed by the grind of wheels turning on loose gravel as it pulled into the parking lot. What now?

  Motor still running, a woman’s voice called: “Aaron? Aaron Ryland?”

  How did the cops in New Wurzburg get his name? His aunt was the only one who knew he was coming. His eyes flitted to the cornfield. For a brief moment, he considered taking off and leaving this whole court-ordered mess behind. But experience had taught him that facing shit head on was usually best, so he took a deep breath and stayed put.

  The engine cut off, and the car door opened with a metallic groan. “Aaron, it’s me, Aunt Ruby.”

  Sonofabitch. She’d brought the cops with her to pick him up. What had the social worker told her about him?

  “Aaron? Was that you I saw a minute ago?”

  Well, he couldn’t lurk in the shadows all night. She’d obviously seen him before he bolted. “Yeah. I’m…” What the hell could he say to explain why he was hiding behind the dumpster? “Uh, yeah. Be right there.”

  Behind him, the corn-looking stuff rustled, and he experienced the spider-crawling-up-the-back-of-his-neck feeling he got when he was being watched.

  “Fuck off,” he growled at the corn, feeling like the dumb-ass he would have appeared if anyone were close enough to actually hear. “Seriously, fuck off and go scare some more little birdies. You don’t want to mess with me.”

  The field answered with silence and stillness. Probably because there was nothing there. He shook his head. He hadn’t slept more than a few short spurts in days, which would explain why he was issuing threats to cornfields. Hopefully, a bed was in his near future, even if it was at the police station.

  Time to get on it. “Hey, sorry I held you up, I…” He stopped dead in his tracks as he rounded the corner.

  Leaning against the police cruiser was a dead ringer for his deceased mom. Freaky doppelganger stuff, only where his mom had been sickly with sunken shadows under her glassy eyes, this woman was healthy and alert. Her red hair was pulled back in a severe bun on the back of her head, and she wore blue or black cop garb—it was hard to tell in the flickering fluorescent–enhanced moonlight.

  “Holy shit.” The words came out before he could stop himself.

  The woman looked as stunned as he felt. “Yeah, holy shit is right.” She pushed away from where she’d been leaning against the car and hooked her thumbs in her gun belt, never taking her eyes off him. “You look exactly like your father. Scary, even. God, for a minute, I…” She looked away for a moment, blinking rapidly. After a deep breath, she met his gaze again and extended her hand. “I’m your aunt Ruby. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Your mom and I are…” A line creased her brow making her seem older, somehow. “We were twins.”

  His mom had a twin. His chest tightened. Why hadn’t she told him? He took Ruby’s offered hand and shook, surprised by her firm grip. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for the bus ticket.”

  She stepped back and looked him up and down. “It’s uncanny, the resemblance.”

  “You knew my dad?” His mother had never spoken of him other than to say he knocked her up and then died.

  Her eyes narrowed as she studied the field behind him. “Let’s talk about this somewhere else.” She gestured to the car with a tilt of her head. “You hungry?”

  “Yeah.” He followed her to the cruiser with its driver door still open.

  “Good. My neighbor Sharon dropped off some pot roast and lemon pie at the house. Let’s hit it.” She slid into the driver’s seat as he strode to the other side, stopping next to the door.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked through the open window.

  It was impossible to hold back his goofy grin as he climbed into the passenger seat. Aunt Ruby chuckled and delivered a friendly punch to his shoulder. “First time in a police car?”

  He barked a laugh. “No. First time in the front.” He regretted saying it the second it came out of his mouth, but the tension in his shoulders lessened when her smile broadened.

  She stared at him a moment before putting the car in gear. “More like your old man than simply looks, then.”

  Rain’s jaw clenched at the mention of the father he’d never known. He fought back the urge to grill this stranger with the dozens of questions he’d wanted to ask since he could talk. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he consciously relaxed. His questions had gone unanswered for his entire life. They could wait one more day.

  As they pulled out of the parking lot, he glanced back at the cornfield. It was probably the reflection of the lights from the trailer park on the rear window glass, but a chill skittered down Rain’s spine at the possibility the shiny gold dots among the stalks were actually multiple pairs of eyes watching them drive away.

  Three

  No matter the size of the city or school, all-in-one desk/chair combos were a universal, and way too small for a guy Rain’s height. He shifted but only managed to knock his knee on the chair of the girl in front of him, who demonstrated another high school universal: the screw-you look.

  Math after lunch sucked. At least a quarter of the class was asleep or had their heads down. The others, judging by their glazed expressions, wished they were asleep. The teacher, a middle-aged guy named Mr. Pratt, with a bad comb-over and wearing a short-sleeve plaid dress shirt, launched into a senior slump pep talk. “I know most of you have already received your college acceptance letters, but I need you to hang in here just a few months more.”

  College acceptance letter. Rain almost laughed out loud. What college would accept him? No money, no parents, and mediocre grades because he was never at any school more than a few months.

  The teacher tapped the shoulder of a boy in the front row. He startled awake with a jerk, and a girl with long, wild, tangled light-brown hair sitting in the next desk laughed. Sleepy Guy twisted toward her, delivering a vicious glare. The huge red spot on his forehead from where he’d rested it against his desk made him look ridiculous. The girl pointed to the corner of her mouth and then to his, indicating he had drool or something going on. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. She tucked her head down and went back to messing with her phone under her desk.

  “As we discussed at the beginning of last semester,” Mr. Pratt continued, “calculus is the mathematical study of change…”

  Change. A topic Rain knew all about. Always the new guy. His mom had bounced around from place to place so many times, he’d lost count. It’d bothered him when he was little because it was impossible to make close friends—something he’d wanted more than anything. As he’d gotten older, he realized not forming bonds was a good thing. It meant no regrets for leaving someone behind.

  A girl one row over gave Rain a shy smile, then returned her attention to Mr. Pratt. She had light hair and fair skin, like most of the kids in the class. Aunt Ruby had explained that New Wurzburg, like the other small towns around it, was comprised primarily of descendants of German immigrants who settled the area a couple hundred years ago, which he supposed accounted for the sameness so unlike any of his schools before.

  His gaze was drawn again to the girl with her waist-length, tangled hair and rumpled T-shirt in the front row. She didn’t have the groomed civility of her classmates, which intrigued him. When Mr. Pratt stopped right in front of her and laid his fingers on the top of her desk, still yacking about the wonders of mathematics, she tucked her phone between her thighs.

  A big guy two seats in front of Rain elbowed the tall, skinny guy next to him and nodded toward her as his fingers flew over his phone screen. He chuckled and placed his phone in his back pocket right about the time the girl in the front seat flinched and her phone went off, playing “Highway to He
ll” as its ringtone.

  The teacher stopped his lecture, and the girl sunk low in her chair. Wordlessly, he held out his hand.

  “Mr. Pratt. I can explain,” she said.

  His only response was unmoving silence and a wiggle of his fingers. Clearly, this had happened before. With a sigh, she placed her phone in his palm, and the girl with short hair and another wearing a bow in her ponytail snickered, but they fell silent when she twisted in her chair and whispered something under her breath.

  The guy who’d phoned her coughed to cover his laugh. Asshole.

  “You may collect your phone in the principal’s office after school,” the teacher said, depositing it in his desk drawer with a slam.

  The girl slumped back down in her chair, and the guy two rows up fist-bumped across the aisle with the skinny guy next to him. Rain’s fingers curled.

  For the rest of the period, he found it hard to keep his eyes off the girl in the front row. Her hair had streaks running through it that reminded him of the little square golden caramels that his social worker kept on her desk to use as bribes. At one point, she looked over her shoulder and glared at the boys two rows back, and Rain almost gasped aloud. She had the weirdest eyes he’d ever seen. They were pale, pale blue, making the pupils stand out like they were hole-punches through paper.

  The guy blew her a kiss, and she flipped him the bird.

  “Later,” he whispered.

  “Miss Burkhart,” Mr. Pratt said. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

  “No. They already know that I want Thomas to eff off, but thanks.” Nervous laughs erupted from some of the students. There was an odd tension in the class, like people were scared to react or something.

  “You know, there are better ways to communicate than crude gestures and swear words.”

  The guy she’d called Thomas wore a smirk Rain wanted to pound off.

  “Yes, Mr. Pratt. I’m well aware. But I’m afraid better communication would be lost on him. I’m speaking the only language he understands.”

  The teacher opened his mouth, but the bell rang before he could get any words out. Students shot to their feet with loud voices and scraping of chairs over terrazzo. Mr. Pratt scurried to his desk, snatched the phone, and rushed from the room, probably to take it to the office.

  Leaving her backpack on the floor, the girl rose and strode to stand right next to the guy she’d called Thomas, the one who had set off her phone. Her unnerving eyes locked on his face as the rest of the class emptied with the exception of the guy from the front row and the skinny guy in the next desk. None of them seemed to notice or care that Rain remained seated in his desk in the back corner.

  “Like what you see, Friederike?” Thomas leaned back in the chair and straightened his legs out in front of him, thrusting up in an un-subtle display.

  She leisurely scanned his body from head to toe and back up again. The heat in her gaze raking over the guy caused Rain to shift in his chair. Leaning so close their noses almost touched, she said, “Do I like what I see?”

  The skinny guy chuckled and exchanged a look with the dark-haired boy who’d been asleep in the front row. Clearly, they all knew one another well, based on the nonverbal exchanges that took time to develop.

  In one swift movement, the girl he’d called Friederike grabbed the desk attached to Thomas’s chair and yanked up, flipping him backward, desk and all. If his hands hadn’t been behind his head, his skull might have cracked. “Now I like what I see,” she said. “You laying at my feet.”

  “Holy shit, Freddie. You could have hurt him,” the skinny guy said.

  Thomas untangled from the metal and fake wood and kicked the desk to the side. An eerie, threatening growl came from the guy’s throat that made the hair on the nape of Rain’s neck lift as Thomas crouched as if preparing to lunge.

  Neither of the other boys seemed ready to come to Freddie’s defense. In fact, they appeared nervous and ready to bolt as they eyed the door.

  Rain’s fists tightened into balls. His muscles tensed, readying to jump out of his desk if the guy made a move.

  “What’s going on in here?” A teacher wearing a striped dress and wire-rimmed glasses stuck her head in from the hallway. “Is everything okay?”

  All four of them answered “Yes” at the same time. Definitely running buddies, to cover and answer in unison.

  “I leaned back too far,” Thomas said, placing the desk on its feet. “It’s cool.”

  The teacher gave them a skeptical look, then her eyes found Rain in the back of the room. “Oh. You’re the new student. Ruby’s nephew, Aaron.”

  And then, it was as if he’d materialized from invisibility. All four of the kids in the room turned to him, and their eyes narrowed. Yeah. He was used to this. Having to prove up to the existing gang—only this wasn’t a gang. It was a group of kids in a tiny rural town. Harmless.

  “What happened here?” the teacher asked him.

  Rain didn’t need to look to know four sets of eyes were trained on him. He could feel it. “Like he said, he just tipped back in his chair and lost his balance. No big deal.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and strode toward the door. “Nobody got hurt.”

  As he passed, he slid a warning look at Thomas, whose eyes narrowed. When he looked at the girl, she gave him a grateful, almost imperceptible nod, then glanced away.

  “So, Ruby tells me you’re now a full-time resident of New Wurzburg,” the teacher said, moving aside so Rain could join her in the hallway right outside the door. She came up to his shoulder and was much younger than his aunt.

  News traveled fast around here. He’d only been in town for three days. He answered with a noncommittal shrug.

  “Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around,” she continued. “Our book club meets at Ruby’s every Wednesday. I’m Ms. James, the world history teacher. Welcome to Wurzburg High.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Together, the three guys and the girl left the classroom, all shooting him wary glances. He forced himself to focus on Ms. James as they strode down the hall.

  “Um, a word of advice,” she whispered. “Avoid those four. Especially the girl. They’re nothing but trouble.”

  Trouble. Rain almost laughed. He and trouble were on a first-name basis, and these country-grown kids weren’t even acquainted with it.

  Shaking his head, still amused by the girl flipping the desk, he headed out to find his next class, track. The school was larger than he expected because it served several Hill Country towns. As he rounded the corner to the gym, something felt off. Stopping, he scanned the hallway, lined on both sides with banks of lockers, only to find students rushing to class. Still, he remained frozen in place as the hallway cleared, the fine hairs on his neck crawling, warning of danger.

  A locker slammed behind him, and he turned to meet the odd pale eyes of the girl from his last class. He must have walked right past her before the bell rang and emptied the place. She wasn’t traditionally pretty, like prom-queen pretty. She was tall and strong with high cheekbones and those crazy-cool eyes. She arched an eyebrow as if daring him to say something about what had happened earlier, but no words came. All he could manage was a dumbfounded stare as she turned away dismissively and wandered down the hall with a purposeful, sensual gait that took his breath away.

  No wonder his body sensed danger. The girl was killer.

  Before she turned the corner, she glanced over her shoulder with an expression warning him to be on guard. Yeah. He planned on it. Not only with those guys in Calculus class, but with her as well. Maybe this little town wouldn’t be so boring after all.

  He shifted his backpack to his other shoulder and struck out with a huge grin as he thought about seeing her again tomorrow. For the first time in his life, he was looking forward to his next math class.

  Four

  Rain had lost count of how many first days as the new kid he’d endured. He’d always assumed that it’d get easier, but i
t never did. His innate loner instinct constantly warred with his desire to fit in—something he’d never achieved. At least this first day was over, and he had a nice, comfortable bed and roof over his head. Not to mention a TV with loads of channels. He switched to an episode of Law & Order and propped his feet up on Aunt Ruby’s coffee table, which was worn and scratched like it had doubled as a footstool for decades.

  A cop on the show was interviewing a teenage boy who appeared terrified, and his mind wandered to Moth. The kid had never made sense to him. Why would someone with parents and a home choose to live out on the streets? Rain never had a choice. Maybe he never would, but for now, he planned to enjoy the gift fate had given him and ride it out until he was forced to move on. He had no doubt that would happen as soon as his aunt discovered what kind of shit he’d rolled in for the past few years.

  The door creaked open, and he slid his feet from the table.

  “Hey,” Aunt Ruby said, closing the door but not locking it behind her. He’d noticed she’d left it unlocked last night, too. “How was your first day of school?”

  “Good. Over.”

  She smiled and unclasped her weapon belt. “Same here. Day over. Sorry I’m so late. Chief had me run an errand at the last minute.”

  “Ah. Is that code for busting someone?”

  After locking her gun belt in the file drawer near the coat closet, she joined him on the sofa. “No. It’s non-code for running an errand. We needed coffee and stir sticks at the station. The chief likes a special brand of coffee that’s only carried in the next town.”

  “Can’t the chief go get his own coffee?”

  “Her own.” She sat back and rolled her shoulders. “And no. She was out investigating a couple of reports that came in, and honestly, I was bored stiff and glad to get out of my desk chair.”

  That didn’t meet his expectations of what he knew about cops at all. He figured she was out in the cruiser gleefully issuing tickets and responding to 911 calls, knocking heads and taking people down.

  She stared at the TV screen. The detective was cuffing the teen. “You like cop shows?”