28. Chapter 28
Chapter 28
Elise
E ven though my legs morphed into a useless mass of gelatinous fluid the moment I hit the pavement at the end of our run, I still managed an evil cackle before collapsing into a heap in front of the stadium doors. Fortunately, and yet unfortunately, Sophie was at least two-hundred meters behind me, and I couldn’t draw enough breath to recreate the declaration of glorious victory when she finally came to a halt and toppled into the grass a few feet away. I’d have to aim for the grass the next time I pushed myself into an oxygen deprived sprint after a grueling run. Still, bruises or not, I had won.
Sophie had squealed in anger when her dad introduced me to the team, though it was hard to hear over Dylan’s whoops and clapping. I wouldn’t race this year, just train with the team, but still, a small piece of my shattered heart had slid back into place as I had started on my first training run with my new teammates.
“Is this what I should be doing, Dad?” I whispered as I panted against the pavement.
As usual, there was no answer.
“You gonna stay like that all day?”
I squinted up to see Avery with her ponytail of tightly curled red hair standing over me, arm extended. She caught my hand when I flopped it in her general direction, though it took her two tries to get me to my feet.
Nearby, one of Sophie’s cronies helped her up. When she stood with knees shaking, she gave me a particularly nasty glare.
“She beat you; get over it,” Avery called before guiding me toward the locker room.
“Where were you a year ago?” I asked, coughing.
“Yeah, about that, I’m really sorry I didn’t stick up for you when all that stuff went down with Sophie. I guess I just wasn’t in a good place. There was a lot of family drama going on, and I was busy having a pity party. It was super selfish and lame of me.”
“That’s okay. I’m sorry about the family stuff you had going on; I had no idea.”
Avery stopped in front of the drinking fountain to fill her water bottle. “Nah, don’t feel bad. My parents were kind of in the process of getting a divorce, but they’ve called it off, and things are kind of okay now.”
“Wow, that sounds awful. If things are kind of okay now, does that mean they’re going to stay together?”
She shrugged. “Honestly, it depends on what day you ask.”
“Oof, how awkward. Are you sure you’re doing alright?”
“Yeah, I’m alright mostly. It helps that I’ve moved out. Dorm living is cramped, and I have a roommate that would rather party until two A.M. than sleep, but I’m surviving.”
I winced.
“No, don’t look like that. It’s fine, really. We’ve come to an understanding. She does her late-night partying somewhere else, and I don’t stick all her underwear in the freezer. Call it a symbiotic relationship.” Tipping her head back, she gulped from her bottle. When she was done, she wiped her mouth on her shirt sleeve. “By the way, that was an awesome finish you had. I think Sophie ran faster than she has all season just trying to catch you.”
At that moment, Sophie rounded the corner, her two cronies close behind. She must have heard what Avery said because her eyes narrowed in our direction.
“Hi, Sophie, did you have a good run?” Avery teased.
We both ducked in time to avoid the water bottle that hit the brick wall directly behind us with a slap.
“Girl, do that again and you’ll find yourself in a full body cast.” Avery stood with her arms folded, glaring at Sophie until the girl finally stalked past us and into the locker room.
Though I wasn’t scared of her, I knew by the way she was whispering to her friends while I changed that it would be wise to hurry and finish before she stirred up more trouble.
Once I was outside again, I paused to stare up at the stadium’s massive walls. This place had once been like a home to Dad. Could it become one to me as well?
“Hey, there she is.” I was caught from behind in a sweaty hug. “I told you you belonged here.” Dylan’s warm moisture quickly seeped through the back of my now not so clean shirt. “How did your run go?” The sound rumbled from his chest and for a moment, I forgot to answer, caught in the feel of his arms wrapped around me while his heartbeat sounded in my ears.
“Oh, it was good. I beat Sophie.”
“Of course you did. You’re going to show all those girls what’s up.”
I turned to face him. His blue hair hung in wet clumps, and his chin was covered in stubble, giving him a rugged look that almost stole my breath.
“Are you always this optimistic?” I asked.
He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Elise Sudbury, you are amazing. That’s not just me being optimistic.”
Blazing heat warmed my cheeks. “Um, thanks.” I looked away before he caught the blush.
“Hey, so we need to talk. Can you wait out here while I get changed?”
“Sure.”
I passed the minutes on a nearby bench, watching a pair of birds as they gathered sticks, and other random objects from the grass, then darted into a large pine tree.
“Do you hear that call?”
I turned to see Dylan standing beside me. Why hadn’t I noticed his approach? He pointed to the pine where the two birds worked. Straining to listen, I caught a chirping, then a trill, followed by an almost hooting noise.
“That’s a mockingbird. They have a very unique song.”
“Wow, maybe you are a bird guy.”
He shrugged. “Grannie pointed it out to me a few weeks ago when I came with her on one of her early morning walks.” Sitting beside me, he let out a sigh, then let his whole body slide down the metal bench until he was nearly horizontal.
“Rough workout?”
Dylan cracked an eye in my direction. “I don’t know if you’ve heard him say this yet, but Pete is a firm believer in the ‘whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ motto. The guy’s nice but his workouts have some serious bite.”
“Then congratulations on living through another one,” I replied.
Without opening his eyes, Dylan raised a fist into the air.
“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”
“Our list of suspects.”
I checked to make sure no-one was within hearing distance. “How are we supposed to have suspects when they’re all probably in some mob, or gang, or whatever it is that loans money to gamblers, then breaks their kneecaps when they don’t pay?”
Dylan threaded his fingers together before resting them on his chest. “I don’t know; I wouldn’t put all my eggs in that basket.”
“What do you mean? Tara’s been missing for almost a week. She disappeared right after we talked to her. I’ve even driven past her house a bunch of times. Her Jeep is never in the driveway, and no lights are ever on. Their mailbox is almost overflowing with letters too. Seems like a pretty clear indication that she’s fled.”
“I don’t know. Something about it just doesn’t add up.”
I stood to stretch my numb thighs, holding the back of the bench for support. “What do you mean it doesn’t add up? Tara practically admitted to blackmailing my dad. He stopped paying her, and less than a month later, he’s killed. It doesn’t take a genius to know that the kind of guys her husband was tied up with wouldn’t appreciate not getting their money, or that they would be willing to commit murder.”
“True, but why not just kill Tara and her husband?”
I let one leg drop, then raised the other. “I bet they had more people on the hook than just Pete and my dad. If the rest of them were still paying, why kill off the two who are collecting the money?”
Dylan popped a finger in his mouth, nibbling on the nail. “I don’t know; I’m still not convinced. And by the way, I want to go on record as saying that promising Pete you would continue to keep the whole doping thing a secret was a terrible idea. We could really use the police’s help right now; in case it does turn out to be some kind of mob that we’re after.”
“I know, but I don’t want to trash someone’s reputation when I’m still not positive that it’s even necessary. The guy’s practically my uncle, and even though what he did was wrong, he could lose his whole career if the scandal got out.”
“Fine. He’s a nice guy, and I don’t really feel like ruining his life either.” Dylan grunted, folding his arms. “But if I start to feel like things are getting out of hand, I’m taking the whole thing to the police.”
“Alright, I can live with that.”
“Now, about our other suspects, we need to look at this logically. We’ve got Coach Carter, who if you ask me is enough of a sleazeball to murder Kelly, and your Dad if he found out he was coming clean.”
I folded in half, reaching for my toes. “I can’t argue with that. I’ve been searching through my Dad’s stuff to see if anything else about Kelly or Coach Carter pops up. So far, all I’ve found is a picture of him and Kelly together at some dance. She’s wearing a formal dress and he’s in a suit sporting a hideous mustache.”
“Yikes. Hey, speaking of dances, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but my band is booked to play for Clearfield’s Homecoming Dance. Do you want to go with me? We won’t be playing the whole time.”
I straightened to face Dylan's hopeful expression. “Um, I’m already signed up to be a chaperone for the dance. I’m not sure how that would work out.”
His smile fell. How could I cheer him up without raising his expectations?
“Maybe I can sneak away for at least one song.”
The grin returned. “Actually, that’s perfect. That way, you can mingle in the crowd. Be incognito. Like an undercover agent. Ready to annihilate any kid who tries something stupid, like spiking the punch or getting too frisky.” He karate chopped the air. “And I can totally help you. I can be like the ‘M’ to your James Bond. I mean I am technically an employee of the school, so it’s not like they’d have a problem with it.”
Laughing, I said, “That depends. They’ll definitely have a problem if any guns or explosions are involved.”
“Alright, party pooper, but we can definitely do the whole undercover thing. We should start with code names. Mine can be ‘Maverick.’ You can be…”
“I think we’re getting a little off topic.”
“I’ve got it; you’re ‘Mirage.’” Dylan waved his fingers mystically.
I shook my head. “Okay, so that is a great spy name, but what I was trying to tell you is that I plan on hacking into my dad’s email account tonight to see if I can find anything useful. It wouldn’t make sense for Carter to come after him now, when Kelly’s death was so long ago, unless Dad let him know he was going to tell the truth.”
“Hacking into someone's email is totally something a secret agent would do.” Dylan sat up straight. The guy was getting way too excited about this. “I didn’t think to ask this before, but are you good at computers and cracking codes and stuff? ‘Cause if you are, we might need to think of a different name for you, something more ‘techy.”’
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Dylan, I’m not a spy, and I actually stink at computer stuff. My dad just used super predictable passwords, which is how I was able to break into his bank records and see the history of his regular cash withdrawals he used to pay Tara.”
“Right, drop the tech part. Let’s just stick with Mirage then.” There went the mystic fingers again.
I sighed. “Anyway, we don’t have a lot of evidence pointing toward Carter right now, even though he seems like the type that would bump off his mother for a candy bar.”
“Agreed. That leaves us with who?”
“Well, there’s one other person we should consider.” Staring at my clasped hands, I lowered onto the bench. “We have these back door neighbors that really hate our family. A gasoline company wants to buy our properties to build a station there, and we’ve been refusing. The family’s pretty miffed about it, and it’s gotten kind of bad.”
Twisting my fingers around the bottom of my shirt, I looked to where Dylan sat watching me with concern.
“So they’ve been throwing trash in our yard for a while now, and do you remember that druggie with a grudge that I talked to Clive about? He’s their son.”
Dylan’s eyes widened.
“It gets worse. A little while ago, I came home from a run to find a bunch of beer bottles smashed on our front porch, along with a torn-up canvas that had ‘time to move’ painted in red on it.”
“Elise, that’s harassment. Did you report it to the police?”
“No, it wouldn’t have done any good. I didn’t have any way of proving who did it. The reason I’m pretty sure it was the Hoffmiller’s drug addict son is I found a picture in my dad’s yearbook of the two of them at some art related thing. Next to the picture, he’d written, ‘You know what you did. Don’t expect me to be nice about it or pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Freaky. I don’t understand though. How does that mean the canvas points to him, other than the fact that he’s mad at your dad?”
“It was the painting on the canvas. It was my dad’s work, but not his professional work. A lot of the techniques he taught me over the years weren’t used in that picture. He must have done it while he was still a student, which was around the time he would have been in the art program with that guy.”
There went Dylan’s fingers back into his mouth. “Huh, well that dude’s definitely a suspect then. I wonder what we need to do to check out that lead. In the meantime, what are we going to do to keep you and your grannie safe?”
“Honestly, I don’t know if there’s much we can do.”
He snapped his fingers. “Oh, I’ve got it. Austin, the drummer in my band, is great with cameras and security systems. He does installs on the side. I bet he’d be willing to help us set up something at your house.”
“My grandma is home alone a lot, so I guess that might be a good idea.”
“Sweet, we can call it ‘Operation Mirage Goes Invisible.”’ Dylan splayed his hands and gestured to the sky as if the title were written in the clouds.
I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll talk to Austin tonight at rehearsal, and we can set up a time to put up the equipment. In the meantime, what do we do about Coach Creepface and Tara’s mob buddies?”
“Carry mace at all times?” I suggested. “I don’t think Tara’s people would have much of a reason to come after us. She should be way more concerned about them than we are. It’s Carter that I worry about. We basically announced to him that we know his dark secrets and are willing to go to the police. I could totally see him and Izzy coming after us.”
“I never want to see that mutt again.” Dylan shuddered, then paused his nail biting. “You know what though? I think I might have a way to figure out more about the thugs Tara’s involved with. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. I have a cousin who just got out of the police academy up in the Bay Area that might be able to dig up some info for us. We used to be pretty close before my family moved to Arizona. I could give him a call and ask him to look into it.”
“Sounds awesome.” I got to my feet and reached for my bag.
“Wait.” Dylan pulled me back onto the bench. “I wanted to show you something.”
He reached into his bag, pulled out a sheet of paper, and handed it to me. Scrawled across the top in red ink was a “B-minus.”
“It’s from my last English test. A lot of it was on Shakespeare, which was just the worst, but I did it; I passed the test.”
“Wow, that’s terrific. Way to go.”
“There’s no way I could have done it without your help. Thank you, Elise.”
I took in the guy’s beaming expression, noticing for the first time his slight dimples, and the freckles that sprinkled his nose and cheeks. I’d always known Dylan was attractive, but looking at him now, I saw something else, something more genuine, even childlike. This guy was kind. Not just the type of kind that shows up in superficial interactions. No, this guy was good to his very core. He helped me even when I pushed him away and showed genuine appreciation when it wasn’t expected.
I’d been hurt by supposedly kind people. Kids who acted nice to your face, then drew mean pictures of you and taped them to your locker for everyone to see. The difference was that their kindness was an act.
Dylan wasn’t like that. He was absolutely himself no matter the situation. That used to bug me. The loud music, the off-the-cuff jokes, the obsession with everything from the nineties. But if I was honest with myself, I sometimes wanted to do weird things too. I was just too scared to be myself around others and risk being made fun of.
A throat cleared, and I blinked. I’d been staring at Dylan for an excessively long period of time.
“Oh, um, sorry. I got a little distracted there. Uh, you’re welcome for the help. I’m super proud of you.” Heat crept up my neck, and I stepped back. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”
He shook his head. “Nice try. I’ll see you at the school this weekend, and remember, you promised me a dance.”
“You never give up, do you?” I asked, surprised that it sounded more like a compliment than a complaint.
“Never.”