“I guess I’ve learned that nothing good can come from holding onto bad stuff from the past. I’m still upset about what you said and did, but I’m willing to move on, provided you can do the same without behaving like that towards me ever again. Or anyone else.”
She nodded vehemently, tears brimming in her eyes. “I promise I won’t.”
“And I think you should talk to Cade and apologize in person to him too.”
“Do you think he’ll even speak to me?” she asked, her voice tinged with anxiety.
“Yeah. You know him. He acts all tough and douchey sometimes, but he’s a really good guy. I think he’ll be open to talking.”
She nodded. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said softly, before throwing her arms around me unexpectedly. “Oh, Charlotte, thank you so much. I honestly never thought you’d ever forgive me, and I know I don’t even deserve it. You’re a better person than me. Way better.”
I awkwardly patted her on the back, and she pulled away and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Sorry, it’s probably a bit too early for us to be hugging,” she said with an embarrassed smile.
“Just a bit,” I said. “But hey, seeing as the library staff double-booked the study room, why don’t we share it? The desk is huge, so there’s enough room for the two of us.”
She gave me another watery smile. “Sure. Thanks. The other rooms are all taken, and I really didn’t want to study in the main areas…all those freshmen are so loud.”
“I know, right?” I said, stepping aside so she could come into the room.
We made some more small talk for a moment while Nicki pulled some books and pens out of her bag, and then she looked at the mostly empty desk with her eyebrows furrowed.
“Where’s your laptop?” she asked.
“Hm?”
“When I first knocked, you said you were watching a funny video or something?”
“Yeah, I…er…I put it away before I got up to open the door,” I said, bending down and unzipping my bag. Another pang of guilt over lying hit me, but I pushed it aside and pulled my computer out before putting it on the desk.
“So what are you studying for?” Nicki asked. “Finals?”
“I should be, but I was mostly just hiding out in here,” I admitted, taking a seat across from her.
She arched a brow. “From who?”
“Media people.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, and then a look of comprehension dawned on her. “Oh, of course. I forgot your stepdad announced his bid to run for president the other day. The media must be stalking you everywhere!”
“Yep,” I said with a rueful smile. “They were hanging around my car earlier, and I’m not meant to speak to them at all, so my friend tried to get rid of them while I came to hide in here.”
Nicki held her hands up. “I know it will take a long time for you to ever trust me again, but I promise I’m not stalking you for them. It was honestly a mistake that we double-booked the same study room, and I won’t reveal your hiding spot.”
I laughed, and she smiled and opened one of her books. “Anyway, I really need to get started on studying for my programming unit. I have three back-to-back exams on it soon. Computer science can be a real bitch sometimes.”
“Yeah, I can imagine,” I said, opening my laptop and typing in my password. “I should start on my stuff as well.”
Our final exams for the semester were coming up quite soon, and if I was going to be stuck in the library for a while longer, I guessed I may as well make that time count by getting in some cramming. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to concentrate on any of my coursework, and I found myself browsing the internet instead, aimlessly clicking on various links on social media.
I came across a link on a friend’s Twitter feed after a few minutes, and it was about Keith’s presidential candidacy bid. Clicking on it out of interest, I scanned it to see that it was just a general fluff piece probably paid for by his campaign, and my interest quickly waned. However, my curiosity was piqued once more by a link to another article on the side of the page. It was something about Felix Adamson, the wedding shooter, and even though I hated the man for what he did, I was drawn to the article like a moth to the flame.
It was a write-up of his life up until the point where he’d decided to attack the wedding, exploring his obsession with conspiracy theories and descent into mental illness.
In his younger years, he’d applied for and gone through some of the Navy SEAL training program, and while he’d apparently proven to be physically fit and an excellent marksman, he’d ultimately failed the psychological testing component of the selection process. This rejection had supposedly made him bitter, and not long after that, he’d delved into the world of anti-government conspiracies. While that was going on, he’d also entered a life of crime, and before he attacked the wedding, he already had a few outstanding arrest warrants that he’d been trying to run from.
By the time the wedding came around, he’d apparently had a full psychotic break, and his usual mental faculties weren’t functioning properly. According to the article, this was why he’d shot so badly that day—luckily for us—and failed to seriously injure or kill anyone at the wedding, despite shooting from near point blank range.
This article went on to quote another one which actually refuted this claim, and I clicked on the link for that as well, frowning as I read it. It contained a written interview with a Dr. Chris Xiao, a well-renowned psychologist who’d been following the whole case and doing his own digging into Felix’s life and background. He stated in the interview that he believed that Felix hadn’t had any sort of psychotic break and was actually entirely lucid before, during and after the wedding, given all the evidence he’d seen.
My mind whirled as I read the article. It hadn’t gained much traction—there were zero comments on it—but what if this psychologist was right? If Felix Adamson had been entirely lucid while carrying out the wedding attack, then that meant there had to be some other reason why he’d shot his weapon so clumsily.
Almost as if he’d done it badly on purpose.
But why would he do that? He’d been trying to make a statement with his heinous actions, so surely he wanted to hurt or kill people that day to get more attention? After all, the worse a tragedy was, the more attention it usually got. I thanked god every day that he hadn’t been successful in killing anyone that day, but now that I thought about it, it did seem rather odd that the whole thing had been so clumsily carried out.
Perhaps he’d changed his mind at the last minute and been unable to go through with killing anyone, and he’d simply fired the gun to try and scare us and accidentally grazed Evan’s arm. Or perhaps Dr. Xiao was just looking to boost his own profile in the public eye by making the claim that Felix was lucid when he wasn’t; maybe he really did have a psychotic break, and that was what caused the clumsiness.
Nicki must have noticed my expression from across the desk, because she stopped making notes for a moment and spoke up. “Hey, Charlotte….you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. “I just can’t stop reading about Felix Adamson. I know I shouldn’t, because it makes me have nightmares, but I can’t seem to look away whenever I see articles about him.”
She nodded sympathetically. “I get it. What happened to your family at that wedding was awful, so it’s not surprising that you’d be drawn to reading about it over and over again. It’s like your mind’s way of trying to understand why it all happened, I think.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“The guy will probably be in prison for a while, though, right?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She shuddered. “Good,” she said. “So what exactly are you reading about?”
I turned my laptop screen to show her the article. “This psychologist thinks Felix Adamson faked having a psychotic break, and that he was actually entirely lucid and knew exactly what he was doing that day.”
Nicki scanned the article with her eyes narrowed,
and then she patted my hand sympathetically. “These guys always come out of the woodwork whenever anything like this happens. They try to claim that everything is a big conspiracy, and really it’s to get media attention on them instead of the actual facts. I bet this Dr. Xiao guy is just looking to score a bunch of new clients for his therapy practice by trying to make waves.”
“Yeah. I wondered if that was the case.”
We sank back into silence, but it was a comfortable one. I felt really good about having chosen to forgive Nicki, and I hoped Cade would be able to find it in his heart to forgive her too. She’d done a bad thing, but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve a second chance, and while their friendship might never be the same, it would mean a lot if we could all at least be civil with each other.
I just hoped I’d made the right choice in choosing forgiveness on this occasion.
I finally clicked out of all the online articles and began to focus on re-reading the biology notes I’d made this semester, and before I knew it, an hour had flown by. I checked my phone to see a message from my Mom asking if I could pick up some French bread to go with dinner, and I stashed it away in my bag before packing up the rest of my stuff.
“Gotta go,” I said, looking over at Nicki. “Family dinner calls.”
“Okay, well, thanks for sharing the room. I’ll see you around,” she said. Her eyes were flashing with uncertainty, and I could tell that she still felt bad for what she’d done and wasn’t sure that I’d really forgiven her.
“Want to grab a coffee sometime before finals?” I asked.
Her face relaxed, and she smiled. “Sure. My treat, though.”
“Cool. I’ll text you later.”
After saying goodbye, I headed out of the library and into the parking lot, glad to see that the space around my car was now completely empty of journalists. After leaving campus, I stopped by a grocery store to pick up the bread my Mom wanted, and as I made the fifteen minute journey out of town to get home, my mind flashed back to the Felix Adamson articles I’d read in the library. That last one had really embedded itself in my mind, and even though I was sure that Nicki was right and it was all just an attention grab, I couldn’t help but wonder about the implications if it were actually true.
As I pulled into my spot in the garage upon arriving at home, I tried to clear the thoughts from my head. Even if it was true that Felix had faked the breakdown, then the most likely explanation was that he was attempting to plead insanity to get out of prison for what he’d done. That had to be it—there was no big conspiracy, and why would there be? No one stood to gain anything from that horrible incident.
I was still mulling it over as I trudged out of the garage, and I decided to go and check the mailbox now that all the journalists and photographers had cleared out for the night. I found a few bits of junk mail, but nothing important, and I turned around to head back up the driveway towards the house, almost having a heart attack when I saw Keith standing directly behind me.
I squealed. “Oh! Sorry, you frightened me,” I said, my heart racing a million miles an hour.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I was just on my way to make sure those damn media vultures had finally gone.”
“Looks like it, yeah,” I replied, nodding back down the driveway. “I was just checking the mail.”
He looked down at the sheaf of junk mail in my right hand, then nodded and smiled, and I suddenly noticed how cold the expression in his eyes was despite that smile. I assumed it was just the dim moonlight playing tricks on me, but I couldn’t shake a sudden anxious feeling about being too close to my new stepfather.
But why? What on earth was my subconscious trying to tell me?
“I guess we better get inside,” I said, trying to keep the quaver out of my voice.
He nodded again before patting me on the shoulder. “Yes. You should be careful about hanging around outside at night,” he said. “After all, there’s all kinds of crazy people in the world. You never know what could happen....”
He turned to walk away, and as I followed him back towards the house, his words echoed in my head. All kinds of crazy people in the world….you never know what could happen.
And suddenly I knew exactly why he made me so nervous.
Chapter Twenty-One
Charlotte
Bzz. Bzz.
My alarm clock told me that it was eight o’clock, but I already knew that from checking my phone a few minutes ago. I’d barely slept a wink all night. I couldn’t, not with all the thoughts clouding my mind after what I’d come to realize last night. I’d been desperate to tell someone what I was worried about, but I knew I would sound crazy.
Maybe I was crazy.
But I was sure of myself right now; I was onto something. With a heavy sigh, I got out of bed, my legs shaky from a combination of nervousness and exhaustion. If anyone would listen to me, it would be Cade, so I quietly padded down the hallway and let myself into his bedroom, being careful not to make any noise that might alert anyone else in the house to what I was doing.
Cade was still asleep, but he woke up when he heard me enter the room, and he sat up in bed, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Hey, didn’t see you last night. Was kinda hoping you’d sneak in here so we could continue our little texting session in person.”
I arched an eyebrow in confusion before remembering what he was talking about. It felt like our sexting session had happened a hundred years ago, even though it was only yesterday afternoon.
Cade saw the expression on my face, and before I could say anything, he sat up straighter. “What’s up? Everything okay?”
I nodded and sat down on his bed. “Yes. I mean no. I mean, I don’t know.”
A puzzled expression crossed his face. “You’re not really making any sense.”
“I know. Just….promise me you won’t think I’m insane. Or horrible. Or both.”
“What’s going on, Charlotte? You’re worrying me.”
I took a deep breath. “I want to talk about your Dad.”
“My Dad?” he repeated. “Erm….okay.”
“You’re going to think this sounds completely insane, and I’m aware that it probably is, but something’s been bothering me for a while now.”
I recounted the article I’d read yesterday to him, and he shook his head. “I don’t get it. A psychologist thinks Adamson faked the breakdown….but so what? If he is, he’s probably just trying to avoid a long prison sentence by claiming insanity.”
“Yes, I thought that too, but it doesn’t explain why he was so clumsy in his aim at the wedding. I mean, we all heard him say he was there to kill your father. If it’s true that he was faking the breakdown and was totally lucid, then he should have aimed better. I mean, thank god he didn’t manage to kill anyone, but the guy was practically a trained sniper. If he wasn’t in the throes of some sort of mental breakdown, why did he fail so badly in achieving what he went to the wedding to do?”
Cade shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t really want to kill anyone? Just wanted attention, or something, so he purposely aimed shoddily, knowing he’d only graze someone.”
I nodded impatiently. “I thought the same thing. But as morbid as it is, people who kill get way more attention, for years and years. So if he was really looking for attention for his own cause, why fail so badly?”
Cade was silent for a moment as he stared down at his duvet, and then he looked up at me. “Charlotte, what are you getting at?”
I was silent for a long moment, daring myself to speak the words. Finally, I opened my mouth and managed to get them out. “I just think a lot of the events surrounding the whole wedding shooting are really suspicious. And convenient.”
“Convenient for who?”
“Your father,” I mumbled, scarcely able to get the words out.
Cade’s expression darkened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Think about it. Despite all of the security guards at the wedding who were checking to make sure o
nly people on the list got in, Felix Adamson managed to slip through and sit with the guests at the ceremony. That in itself could just be a coincidental screw-up. But then after that, Felix—an expert marksman—threatened to kill your Dad during his rant, yet at point blank range he somehow managed to miss so badly that he grazed Evan’s arm, leaving your Dad unhurt and capable of saving the day. Another mere coincidental screw-up on Felix’s behalf, maybe. But put both those weird coincidences together, along with the fact that your father’s presidential campaign has benefited enormously from all this attention, and it stops seeming like those events are all just a set of big coincidences. It really starts to smell a bit fishy...right?”
Cade’s gaze was steely now, his jaw set in a hard line. “So let me get this straight. You’re accusing my father of setting the whole thing up and having my little brother shot by a criminal just to make himself look like a hero, all for attention? Just so he can look good to the public so they’ll be more likely to vote for him in the election?”
“I’m not accusing him,” I said. “I just think it’s all too strange to be a set of coincidences. Don’t you?”
“No. I don’t. And you are accusing him. You’re not a fucking detective, Charlotte, and I think you’re way out of line here,” he said, anger flashing in his eyes. “After it happened, he told us he wasn’t even going to run for president!”
“Not at first. All he did was hint at it by conveniently making calls to cancel meetings with Greg Sanders when he was right outside Evan’s hospital room. Maybe he knew Evan would hear and tell you about it. That way he could sort of guilt-trip the two of you and manipulate you into going to him to convince him to run….which is exactly what you did. That way it looks like it wasn’t really his idea, and that he had initially intended on not running. That would take a lot of suspicion off him, wouldn’t it? Because then if anyone suspects anything, all he has to say is ‘well, I wasn’t even planning on running until my sons convinced me to do it,’ and you’d be there to back him up on that.”
Cade’s temper flared, and he stood up, his eyes narrowed. “Charlotte, you sound totally fucking crazy. If this is all you have to say to me, then I want you to get out of my room. Now.”
Tease - A Stepbrother Sports Romance Page 15