14. Dean
DEAN
W hen the police car pulls up in front of my house, my first thought is to run. My heart pounds and I know I’ve been reckless and in the back of my mind I know it’s going to end with bloodshed or prison.
I’ve always known that’s what I’m destined for.
The cops aren’t going to help. I’ve known that since I was in school. Even if a bunch of kids show up at the station and beg for help, they’ll refuse.
I’m not a kid anymore and I’m not the one who needs saving.
My head pounds and I can barely remember last night. Time blurs and all I know is the pain and flashes of what must have been.
If they wouldn’t help me then, they sure as hell won’t be on my side now.
I don’t run as I let the blinds go. They close and I wait.
I don’t want to give them any reason to run after me. My heart races, adrenaline forced through my veins.
The lights on the car flash silently, lighting the whole street in blue and red.
They wait and wait and all the while I wait too, getting more and more anxious. Wondering what exactly they found that brought them here.
The lights go off.
Two cops climb out of the car in the dark of the street, talking to one another. They look around my neighborhood.
I swallow my defensiveness. I didn’t do anything wrong, I try to convince myself of the lie.
They come up the sidewalk slowly. That’s a good thing, right? If they wanted to pull something, they’d have come in fast so I didn’t have a chance to get away.
I don’t have to answer, I think. I debate on what to do, but fuck, part of me just wants this to end. The thought is quickly silenced by the image of her .
They pause in the middle of the sidewalk to talk to one another again. One of them points in the direction of the shop and the other one nods. I’m glad it’s nighttime and long after I would have left the shop even if I put in extra hours. They could be coming to talk to me or question me or arrest me—whatever their plan is—in front of Rick and all the other guys if it was morning. And I don’t need more people poking around or questioning shit.
I wait in the living room until they’re out of sight.
A few seconds later, there’s a knock at the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
They don’t mention police or a warrant or anything. It’s quiet. Just a knock at the door. I make myself walk slowly and calmly just like they did. When I pull the door open, a fresh breeze comes in. Night air, cooled down from the day. The kind of air I rarely felt at that place.
“Evening, officers,” I say, my face mostly blank although I hope I look slightly shocked to see them. “Is there something I can help you with?” My voice is even as I glance down quickly. They each have their guns, their walkie talkies. Their uniforms are black, so it's the state not county.
My mind races and I get lightheaded so I hold on to the edge of the door.
The first one consults a notepad in his hand, then studies my face. “Evening. Are you Dean Quinell?”
“That’s me,” I say. I don’t say anything else, just let the silence hang between us.
The two officers exchange a quick glance.
“Could we come in and talk to you for a few minutes?” the second one asks. “We have a few questions we thought you might be able to help us with.”
My hand tightens even further. I know better than to let cops inside my house, but to kick them out would probably make it seem like I had something to hide. I go against my better judgment.
“Sure.” I open the door wider and step back into the entryway. “Come on in.”
“Thanks,” the first one says, and gives me a little nod.
They follow me into the living room. It’s a normal living room. I’m a normal person. They’re not going to find anything in here.
I’ll invite them in, but we’re not going to sit down for a long chat. I stop in the middle of my living room. “What’s this about?” I ask. The cops look everything over, from the soft gray sofa to the recliner I got for my dad when he comes to visit. There are a couple of pictures here and there, one of my mother and I when I was just a babe. The TV is hung on the wall and under it a couple of plants that were gifts. Everything gets a look with quick glances from the cops, then both of them turn to me, standing up a little straighter.
“We’d like to ask you about your whereabouts on a few different dates,” the second cop says, his eyes on mine. Now he’s watching to see what I’ll do.
The first cop clears his throat, then flips to another page in his notebook. “On the night of?—”
He goes through a few different dates. A few different nights, really. I listen to his list, blank-faced. That’s the only thing the school ever taught me.
When he’s finished with his list, they look at me expectantly.
I shake my head. “What’s this about?”
“We’re investigating a series of murders in the area,” the second cop says.
My brow raises and I stand a little straighter, “Murders? What do you think I know about any murders?”
The first one looks at me. “We’re going through the list of children enrolled at a particular school the victims all worked at… it seems you attended Cedar Woods Academy?”
I let them see how hearing the name of that place makes me feel, which is sick. I lean back and grip the sofa and stare down a moment.
“You mean the fucked up school that got shut down? Yeah I went there, years and years ago but I don’t know anything about any of the faculty or any of the other students,” I lie and the temperature of my body heightens.
The second cop shuffles, one of his hands going to his belt. “I take it that means you have some resentment.”
“I would be concerned about anyone who doesn’t have resentment after they heard—fuck. Everyone heard what happened at that place. Who wouldn’t be angry?”
“Let’s go back to the list.” The first cop doesn’t look at his buddy. “Where were you two nights ago?”
I look at the second man instead.
“Are you asking everybody who went to that school, or?—”
“Only the former students who have criminal records right now,” the first cop says, cutting me off.
Fuck . This is all so fucked.
Just when I’m about to answer—I don’t even know what I’m going to say—there’s a loud knock at my door. I snap my mouth shut. More cops?
“Dean?” Thank God. “Dean I know you’re in there. I’m coming in, okay?”
The front door opens and my girlfriend comes in, looking as gorgeous as she always does even though it’s almost ten at night. I don’t know how she knew the cops were here. I don’t care how she knew. I’m just glad I’m not facing this alone anymore.
“Good evening, officers.” She sounds so innocent but also shocked as she stands in her cream sweater and skinny jeans. So surprised to find cops in my living room. She looks like the kind of person who’s had a perfect life. Who’s never seen anything horrific happen in front of her and been forced to watch. “I’m Dean’s girlfriend.” She comes over to me and gives my hand a quick squeeze. “I saw the car outside. Is everything okay?”
“We had some questions for Mr. Quinell and his whereabouts two nights ago.”
My girlfriend answers quickly. “Oh! He was with me. We had dinner around eight, and then we went to bed around ten. He doesn’t stay up late when he has work the next morning.”
“Did he have work the next morning?”
“Yes, like most days.” Her smile fades. “It was a normal morning. I got ready and went to work and so did Dean.”
“You went to work at the repair shop next door?” Mr. Quinell the first cop asks, his voice starting to soften.
“Yeah. That’s where I work.” I answer as respectfully as I can.
“Will they corroborate your statement if we stop by in the morning?”
I nod, but she speaks up.
“Of course they will,” my girlfriend says. “Rick will tell you Dean was the there. He doesn’t miss work, you know. He’s a reliable person. Rick will tell you that, too. Dean is a good man.” Her voice tightens as she tells them such a lie.
The cops glance between her and I. “We’ll do that, then,” the second cop says finally. “A call in the morning should be fine.”
“I don’t really have much else to say,” I tell them.
“If there’s anything else you need, you’ll let us know, right?” My girlfriend follows the cops to the door and holds it open for them.
They answer her. I don’t catch what they say.
“Okay,” she calls into the night. “Stay safe.”
“Thanks for your time, Mr. Quinell.”
“You’re welcome.” I’m reluctant to answer and I honestly don’t know what they’re thinking.
The door clicks shut, and I hear her flip the lock. Then she comes back into the living room, crosses to me, and puts her hands on my face, pulling me in for a soft kiss. My hands go to her waist, and I hold her tight. Maybe too tight. I need to feel her, and I can’t let go.
She deepens the kiss, letting me taste her, and my pulse slowly stops racing. Damn, she tastes sweet. Sweet like the only woman I’ll ever need.
With a soft sigh, she pulls back, her forehead pressed against mine.
“You lied,” I breathe. I know the cops are gone and they can’t hear me, but I feel like there are ears everywhere, listening for anything I might say to implicate myself.
The only person here is her. She opens her eyes, strokes her fingers through my hair, and looks seriously into my eyes as if this is the most important thing she’ll ever tell me. My heart thuds. It can’t take much more adrenaline, but the truth is in the air between us, and I’ve never felt her love so strongly before.
I’ve never felt any love so strongly before. I didn’t know it was possible to experience this depth of feeling.
I’m alive. I’m so alive for the first time in years. Maybe decades. Those were such simple words out of her mouth, and out of mine, and yet they carry more meaning than most things I’ve ever said.
“Don’t ever say that out loud again,” she tells me beneath her breath. More simple words, but I won’t. I won’t ever say them again. She goes up on tiptoes for another kiss, then slides one of her hands over my chest until she can grab my hand. “Come on. Let’s just watch some mindless TV and go to bed. That was enough excitement for one night, I think.”
I pull her back toward me, capturing her in my arms.
“I love you.” Her eyes go soft and shiny and overflowing with love. I can practically see her heart there when she looks at me. “More than you’ll ever know.”
We make it to the sofa, but neither of us turns on the TV. I lay her back on the cushions and push her hair out of her face and kiss her, letting my body take over.
Both of us need gentleness tonight, so I take off her clothes slowly and carefully, kissing every bit of exposed skin I find along the way. She arches underneath me, making little sounds and pulling me as close as she can. I drag my lips over so much soft skin.
I kiss down over her ribs and over the soft dip at her belly and lower, to where she’s wet and eager for me already. She whines when I kiss her clit and lifts her hips to make it easier for me.
I take my time with every inch of her. The tender skin at the inside of her thighs. The curve of her calf. Between her legs. Loving her for loving me. For covering for me and cleaning up after my mess.
I crawl over her, her taste everywhere, and push myself inside her, slow and savoring every moment.
I stroke into her, emotion swelling up in my chest. I don’t have to look over my shoulder anymore. I don’t have to let all that pain consume me. I’m free to enjoy the pleasure of her. To give her more pleasure in return.
It’s too much. How could I ever be worthy of her?
“I don’t deserve you,” I say into her mouth, fucking her as slow as I can so that it lasts. I want it to last.
She pushes on my shoulders and turns us over so she can ride me, running her fingers through my hair again and looking into my eyes. I think I’ll always get a thrill from looking at her like this.
“You deserve more than me,” she says, her voice trembling. She grinds down on me in intoxicating circles. I won’t be able to hold out if she keeps this up. I’ll have to fuck her again. Once isn’t enough for tonight. It will never be enough. “I love you so much. There’s nothing you could ever do that would make me not love you. You know that, right?”
“I know.” I’m telling her the truth. After what she did for me tonight, I could never doubt her. “I know.”
“I’ll protect you.” Her mouth meets mine for a kiss that matches the movements of our bodies. Slow. Soft. Deep. “I promise.”
And then I breathe something I know I shouldn’t, “I love you, Haley.” I say it so low, I don’t know if she hears me, but she doesn’t stop her movements, and she kisses me deeply like she needs me more than ever.