In the Pines

by Laura Lascarso

  Thump, thump, thump.

  It sounded like someone was knocking on the door. I froze and turned a full circle, assessing dark corners of the wrestling room. I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find—a baseball bat—and returned to the classroom to find it empty. I scanned the places where furniture obstructed my view, then locked the door from the inside, even though anyone could reach through the broken window as I had and unlatch it.

  Having completed another visual sweep of the classroom, I went back into the wrestling room when I heard the thumping noise again, followed by a muffled scream. It was coming from one of the man-sized trunks in the back of the classroom.

  “Dare?” I called. Someone was kicking the trunk from the inside. I dropped the bat and grabbed the fire extinguisher. With the blunt end of the canister, I slammed the padlock with all my might. The metal jumped on the latch but stayed firm. The screams from inside grew louder and more desperate. I hit the lock again, and again. Finally I was able to break it open. I unlatched the metal clasp with fumbling hands.

  Inside I found Dare, lying on his back with his knees slightly bent. His wrists and ankles were tied, his mouth was gagged, and he was blindfolded. He must have been banging against the inside of the locker with his knees.

  “Dare,” I cried with a joyous exhalation that I wasn’t too late. I quickly undid his binding and hugged him to me. “Are you hurt?”

  He clung to me, the grip from his fingers cutting into the muscle in my back. “Who did this to you?” I asked, checking him all over to make sure he wasn’t cut or bleeding. No open wounds and no broken bones, thankfully. There were some marks around his neck that looked as if pressure had been applied there recently. I didn’t know from what; I only knew they weren’t mine.

  Dare started talking at last. “I was in my garage, getting into my car early this morning, when someone came at me from behind, and the next thing I knew, I was locked in this trunk.”

  His kidnapper must have hid his car elsewhere.

  “You were trying to smoke out the murderer?” I asked, and he nodded. “Who else did you send that text to?”

  “At least a dozen people, including my parents.”

  He didn’t send it to me.

  “Why didn’t you bring me with you?” I scolded, the panic having subsided to give way to anger. “We were supposed to be in this together.”

  “I didn’t want to get you in any more trouble.”

  I glanced around, realizing our vulnerability. To stick Dare in such a public place meant the killer must be nearby guarding him; this could be a trap.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” I told Dare. “You have your phone on you?”

  He shook his head. “You?”

  “No, my mom took it. I’m grounded.” Even though it shouldn’t matter at that moment, I did worry about breaking the terms of my punishment. My mom was going to be pissed and probably ground me again.

  Dare rose shakily, and I helped him climb out of the locker. Once back on solid ground, he clung to me like a child and seemed to not want to let go.

  “Let’s go,” I told Dare. “We’re going straight to the police.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  We swiveled around to find Peter Orr, wild-eyed, as we stared down the barrel of a 9mm handgun.

  Chapter 18

  “PETER?” DARE asked, confused.

  “Don’t look so surprised to see me, Dare. I know you think I did it.”

  Peter eyed us with a deranged look. His stance was wide as he balanced on the balls of his feet. His shoulders hunched forward and his free arm was spread wide, as though he were about to challenge us to a wrestling match. I wondered if he’d appeared the same way to Mason the night of his murder.

  “We have no real evidence, Peter,” I told him, which wasn’t a lie. Of course I wanted to ask Peter about what he’d done, but my most immediate concern was getting out of there safely with Dare. I pushed Dare behind me a little, blocking him with my body. “You can let us go now, and there would be no way for us to prove it.”

  Meanwhile Dare had collected his courage. He shoved past me to confront Peter. His eyes turned hard and flinty as he stared down his brother’s murderer. “Did you do it, Peter? Did you kill my brother?”

  Dare was taking a completely different approach—a confrontational one—and it was going to get us both killed.

  Peter shook his head. His face had a pale, sickly pallor. Droplets of sweat clung to his forehead and ran down his neck, disappearing into the sweat-soaked collar of his shirt. I’d bet his grip on the gun was slippery at best. The gun wobbled in his fist as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “It was an accident, Dare.”

  “How do you accidentally decapitate someone?” Dare spat with all the condescension he could muster. His nostrils flared and his body was completely rigid as he regarded Peter with utter hatred and disgust.

  “I didn’t….” Peter faltered and glanced around as if someone could back up his story.

  “He choked him out first,” I said. I’d seen the red marks around Dare’s neck, signs that Peter had done the same to him. “It was an accident,” I continued, hoping my sympathy would encourage Peter to lower the gun. Meanwhile I grabbed Dare by his elbow and tried to guide him back behind me. Dare shook me off like I was a mosquito. “You didn’t mean to kill him, did you Peter?”

  “No, of course not,” Peter said, practically singing his defense. “It was supposed to be a prank. A stupid prank, Dare. That’s all it was.”

  “My brother’s dead,” Dare roared, “and you’re the one who killed him.” Dare pointed accusingly at Peter and I gently steered his finger downward, aiming it at the floor instead. I tried to catch Dare’s eye to convey to him that we should be calm, but his attention was focused solely on Peter.

  “Why don’t you tell us what happened, Peter?” Partly it was my curiosity, but I also wanted to keep him talking in the hopes that Tameka would get worried and call 911.

  “I heard him arguing with Daniela and figured he was going to Ms. Sparrow’s house after practice. I was going to catch them on video and spread it around the school. A prank. That’s all it was supposed to be.”

  “That’s the reason there were no tire tracks,” I said. Suddenly everything clicked into place. “Because you were in Mason’s truck the whole time, hiding in the bed.”

  It wasn’t trash bags I’d seen in the surveillance footage; it was Peter Orr’s sauna suit. And he came back to the school wearing only his singlet, which meant he’d discarded the suit sometime between Newnans Lake and his arrival back at school. If Peter hadn’t already destroyed it, it was probably covered in evidence, perhaps even traces of Mason’s DNA. That was the proof I’d been looking for: Coach Gundry’s inventory, minus one sauna suit.

  “Mason’s tire went flat,” Peter continued, “and I knew he’d find me and wonder what the hell I was doing there, so I jumped out and acted as if I’d been running along the road. I told him I’d help him change it. We pushed the truck off the road. Except now, I wouldn’t be able to follow him to Ms. Sparrow’s. And then I thought, wouldn’t it be hilarious if Mason missed his own surprise birthday party? Wouldn’t that be just what he deserved for being such a prick to me all these years? Get him back for all the stupid pranks he’s pulled.”

  Peter turned from beseeching to enraged. I suspected some kind of personality disorder or intense anger issues, both of which convinced me it would be a bad idea to provoke him. I stepped sideways so Dare was once again behind me. “You should know what that feels like, Dare,” Peter said, perhaps referring to their clandestine kiss.

  “Fuck you, Peter,” Dare hissed. “Fuck you and your stupid fucking ego.”

  “That video ruined my life,” Peter sneered. “Mason thought it was hilarious, me and you being caught like that. All my friends thought I was a homo after that.”

  “So fucking what?” Dare challenged. I was out of the loop on that scandal, but I sensed it would be
a bad idea to hash it out while Peter had a gun in his hand.

  “He should have never filmed us, and you know it,” Peter said resolutely.

  “So you went and killed him, you fucking psycho,” Dare roared. His face was red, except for one blue vein in his temple, straining from the effort.

  I had to get Peter to give up the gun, and Dare wasn’t helping.

  “Put down the gun, Peter,” I said in a calm voice. “You’ll be in a lot less trouble if you stop now. Like you said, it was an accident.”

  “But it wasn’t,” Peter moaned, suddenly remorseful again. “He was jacking up the truck and I reached around his neck to choke him out, but I… I snapped. I wanted to hurt him. It was only a few seconds too long. He stopped breathing, and I….” Peter ran a meaty hand through his short, stubby hair. “I panicked, Dare. He was dead. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You are a pathetic excuse for a human being,” Dare said. I reached for his hand to settle him, but he yanked it away. “And a goddamned idiot. You should have called an ambulance, Peter. You shouldn’t have just let him die there. Like a goddamned animal. And then you….”

  Dare started bawling and went down to his knees, covering his face with both hands. The gun wobbled with Peter not knowing where to point it, and I helped him decide by stepping fully in front of Dare. I was taking over this negotiation.

  “You didn’t mean to kill him, Peter. I understand. Dare’s upset, but he gets it. But if you hurt us, then everyone will know it wasn’t an accident, and you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

  “Fuck you, Dick.” Peter shambled forward and pointed the gun at my face. With my mom being a cop, I’d been around guns my whole life—I knew how to handle one too—but I’d never had one pointed at me before. A primal fear tore through me as my breath went shallow. My knees felt like jelly, but I steeled myself where I stood and widened my stance ever so slightly, preparing for a takedown.

  “Looks like you got your nose into the wrong business this time,” Peter said in a mocking voice.

  “Go ahead and kill me,” Dare snarled from behind me, glancing up with a tear-stained face. “Then there’s no way you can worm your way out of this. I hope you die for this, you fucking piece of shit.”

  “Dare, be quiet,” I said sternly. I laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to pacify them both. I hadn’t given up on diplomacy just yet. “No one has to get hurt. Like you said, Peter—”

  “And fuck Mason too,” Peter interrupted, ignoring me entirely. “Your brother’s always had it out for me, Dare. You know that. My whole wrestling career, I’ve had to stay one step ahead. Training harder, eating better, lifting more. Running that goddamned track every day. And this summer I find out he’s been cheating by taking steroids. He doesn’t even need the scholarship money like I do.”

  Peter was in a volatile emotional state. So was Dare. Neither wanted to listen to reason, but that was all I could think to offer.

  “You may be able to get away with manslaughter,” I told Peter, “but if you hurt us, then you can’t say Mason’s death was an accident. That’s three counts of first-degree murder, Peter. You’ll be in prison for life.” Or on death row, since Florida had the death penalty, but I didn’t want to say that and heighten his desperation. If Peter were to panic, we’d be doomed.

  “Not if I put it on you.” Peter wiped his nose with the back of his hand and focused his cold glare on me. “Everyone knows you’ve been stalking Dare since eighth grade.”

  “I have not,” I argued without thinking.

  “Have you?” Dare asked.

  “Yeah, he used to bike by your house all the time,” Peter said. “And once he realized you didn’t love him back, he killed you, then killed himself.”

  Peter, in his arrogance, thought he could get away with something like that. What an imbecile. Well, I was done with the nice guy approach. Peter was going to get the cold, sobering truth.

  “That will never work,” I told him. “The evidence doesn’t support it. Besides, I’ve already told my mother you’re guilty.” And Tameka as well, but I didn’t want to put her safety at risk, just in case Peter decided to follow through with his murderous plan.

  He glared at me, not believing it. “You’re lying.”

  I pulled the receipts from my pocket. “You went to Waffle Kingdom the night of Mason’s murder and ordered a shit ton of food. Two plates of waffles fries with extra sausage and bacon? Why would a wrestler trying to make weight do that, unless he knew his competition was out of the running?”

  I threw my receipts at him. They fluttered to the floor like moths. It was weak as far as evidence went, but I knew there’d be more, and I hoped I’d be alive to see Peter brought to justice. I wanted Peter to reach down and pick up the receipts, giving me an opportunity to charge him, but his gaze remained focused on me.

  “I told my mom everything,” I continued. “GPD’s probably on their way to your house right now to arrest you.” And, maybe they could hurry it up a bit.

  “That means I still have time to kill you both.”

  “The gun residue will be on your hand, not mine.” I tried to stay patient, but I felt like I was arguing with a toddler.

  Peter shook his head, refusing to believe it. “Not if I choke you out first.”

  Peter was intent on violence. I could see it in his eyes and the way he clung to his fantasy in the face of reason. He was desperate, scared, and hell-bent on vengeance for whatever slight he’d manufactured to justify his actions. There would be no negotiation. We were going to have to fight for our lives.

  Peter trained his gun on Dare where he kneeled behind me as he approached me from the back, with what I assumed was the intent to choke me out. At that point I’d be defenseless and Dare would be in even more danger. I turned slightly and stole a purposeful look down at Dare while waiting until Peter had circled behind me. He blinked, his eyes focused, and I recognized this look as Dare gearing up for a fight. I saw Peter’s arm coming up around my neck, and when it was fully extended, I struck him violently in the gut with my elbow, so hard it felt like I’d dislocated my shoulder.

  Peter keeled forward a little and groaned, but he didn’t lose control of the gun, and even when I bumped him backward with my hip, he barely budged. I knocked his arm so the gun was no longer pointed at Dare, and the two of us wrestled for control. Even though Peter and I were about the same size, he was a far better grappler than me. He was strong and fueled by adrenaline as we fought for control of the gun. But Peter had the use of only one hand, and it was enough for me to grab him around the torso and ram him backward into the cinder block wall. A gunshot rang out, and I felt a stab in my shoulder, but I could still use my arm, which meant it probably wasn’t fatal. Then the lights cut out, Peter tackled me to the hard linoleum floor, and we rolled around in the pitch-black. At any moment the gun might go off again and kill one of us, but I couldn’t back down now. I heard nothing save for our ragged breathing and the cold smack of flesh against flesh.

  Then I heard the metallic thunk of the gun hitting the floor, followed swiftly by an awkwardly placed blow to the side of my face. My cheek went numb. Then the lights came back on, and Dare was holding the gun. His hands were shaking as he pointed it at Peter.

  “Get away from him,” Dare screamed at Peter, but it was me who scrambled backward and away from the scuffle. My upper arm was bleeding—a surface wound, it appeared to me. I ripped off a strip of my shirt and tied it up, using my teeth to cinch the fabric.

  Peter only knelt there on the ground with a cruel sneer on his face.

  “Go ahead, Dare,” Peter mocked. “Shoot me. What a bonus it would be if you went to jail. The Chalmers twins, ruined.”

  Dare tightened his grip on the gun—two hands, his whole body shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. I stood and came around the side of Dare, so he could see exactly what I was doing.

  “Dare, give me the gun,” I whispered.

  “He shot you and he killed my b
rother,” Dare said in a pleading voice. “He admitted to it, Charlie. He wanted to kill us too.”

  “You’re right, but don’t you see, this is what he wants? He wants to ruin your life too.”

  “He already has,” Dare said viciously. “And I’d rather go to jail than see him get away with what he did.”

  Peter smiled like he was psychotic. “They’ll offer me a plea bargain, and I’ll be out in a few years. I’ll handle it. Mason had it coming, and honestly, so do you.”

  “What’s your game here, Peter?” I asked, sheer curiosity getting the better of me. He was not acting like a man who wanted to live. Had his jealousy and vengeance so consumed him that he’d rather destroy Dare’s life than save his own? “Are you really willing to die just to punish Dare?”

  “Dare doesn’t have the balls to do it.”

  Dare racked the gun, which rang as clear as a dinner bell in the quiet classroom. I laid a hand gently on his shoulder, which was stiff as iron. I was careful to move slowly so as not to startle him. “Come on, Dare, give me the gun. Peter will suffer for what he did to Mason, I promise.”

  “Not enough,” Dare’s hands weren’t shaking anymore as he took a few calming breaths. I didn’t know his experience with firearms, but it seemed he was preparing to pull the trigger as he steadied his hands and took aim on Peter’s torso. His eyes had a look of steely determination in them, as if he’d already resigned himself to whatever fate awaited him as a result of this action.

  “You still haven’t asked me why I chopped off his head,” Peter said, taunting Dare still.

  “Shut up, Peter,” I barked.

  Dare’s face twisted up. His upper lip curled into a snarl. His eyes held so much pain and anguish. “Why?”

  Peter smiled sadistically. The man was deeply disturbed. “To help him make weight.”

  Dare recoiled, and I swung around so that I was standing in front of the gun.

  “Charlie, move,” Dare shouted.