Chapter 10
Rick sat on the curb in front of the stadium, wrapped in a space blanket.
Martina was next to him, her face bathed in flashing red and blue lights.
Alexis had been put into the back of an ambulance that was a little ways down from them, its lights off, as two paramedics did whatever it was paramedics did. Rick was a little vague on that.
A policeman had tried asking him and Martina questions.
Rick had answered one or two of them before Martina stepped in and asked the policemen if they could call their parents.
Which, if Rick had been operating on all his cylinders, would have been his first thought.
Or he would have at least called Martina’s parents—he didn’t want to pull his mom out of work.
It was all a little fuzzy. He was pretty sure he was in shock. Which would make sense because they had found a dead body.
Bryce’s body.
Bryce was now a dead body, and they had found him. Rick pulled his blanket closer.
“You going to puke?” Martina asked.
Rick thought about it. “I don’t think so. You going to puke again?”
“Seriously considering it,” Martina said. “Did that just happen?”
“Yeah.”
“It wasn’t a prank?” Martina’s wobbly tone told him that she very much hoped that it had been some kind of awful joke. A terrible one, for sure, but that would be better than the reality.
“Did you find a pulse?” Rick asked, not for the first time.
“No,” Martina answered, also not for the first time. The space blanket crinkled as she adjusted it around her shoulders. “But they resuscitate people sometimes.”
“Was he still warm?” Rick felt a bit like he was floating, the question he’d just asked her seeming far away, like someone else had said it.
“He wasn’t cold,” Martina said slowly. “But he wasn’t warm…oh god.” She put her head between her knees. “I’m going to be sick.”
Rick patted her back. “It’s okay if you are. I can hold back your hair again.”
Martina started laughing then, but also crying a little at the same time. Sometimes in western Washington, it would be bright and sunny while also raining. Martina kind of reminded him of that.
“I shouldn’t laugh.” Martina sniffed, swiping at the tears on her cheeks with her sleeve. “Bryce is dead. Probably murdered. That’s not funny.”
“It’s shock,” Rick said. “It can hit people like that sometimes.” He’d laughed when he’d first heard that his dad had left. Real gut-busting laughter until it had morphed into an angry scream. “Do you think he was murdered? Bryce, I mean.”
She gave another watery laugh. “I think the odds of it being a coincidence are really, really low.”
“That’s what I thought.” Rick shivered, pulling his space blanket tighter. “You know what I keep wondering? Who was it supposed to be? Like, who normally wears the Wildcat suit?”
Martina tilted her head up like she was gazing at the stars.
“It’s usually Mike, I think. Mike Bailey.
” She shivered again, and Rick wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or shock.
He heard the sharp clack of heels and looked up, his hand making circles on Martina’s back.
Mrs. Lopez strode toward them as she wrapped her jacket more firmly around herself.
Rick’s mom kept pace with her, her jacket zipped up over her blue uniform shirt.
He stood up automatically. “I’m sorry, they weren’t supposed to— I didn’t mean for them to take you from work.
” Guilt swamped him as he took in the weary set of her shoulders, the drawn look to her face evident in the sharp light of the streetlamps.
Daphne Hicks had always been beautiful, but the grind of life and the strain was starting to show in her face and the way she held herself.
His mom’s brows went up as she clasped his face. “Oooh, I hate that you’re saying sorry right now. You okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer but turned to Martina. “You okay?”
“Yes,” they both said.
His mom scoffed. “Liars.” She pulled Rick into a bear hug. “Later, we’ll talk about why this qualifies as a good reason to call me away from work. For now, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Rick hugged her back, his eyes closing. Relishing the moment where someone else showed up, if even for a daydream second, to fix things. Then Rick let go.
She eyed him. “You look terrible. If Serena hadn’t called me—Never mind. We’ll get into that. Can you tell me what happened?”
It said something of Rick’s state that it took him a few seconds to remember that Serena was Mrs. Lopez. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Bryce.” His words jammed up for a second, and he coughed. “Mackinaw. We found Bryce Mackinaw.”
His mom looked at Mrs. Lopez, who nodded, then turned to wave the cop over. “The kids will give a short statement now for your reports. Tomorrow, if they’re feeling well enough, they’ll come in and give an official statement.”
The cop didn’t seem too happy with this suggestion. “We really need a full statement—”
Rick’s mom glared at him. “Our kids are in shock. They’ve witnessed something horrible. You push it, and we’ll take them home without a word.”
The cop took one look at them, sighed, and got out his notebook.
Rick glanced at Martina, shifting on his feet. She gave a small nod, and he turned to the cop. “We think someone should check on Mike Bailey.”
The cop frowned at them both as he clicked his pen. “Who is Mike Bailey?”
“He’s a senior at Meadowvale.” Martina looked at her mom. “And he’s usually Claus. If Bryce was found in the costume, where was Mike?”
The officer put away his notebook, stepped back, and started talking quietly into his radio.
Daphne squeezed Rick to her with one arm. “Oh god. I really hope that kid is okay.”
Martina and Rick stared at each other, silently hoping the same thing.
—
Mrs. Lopez had picked Rick’s mom up from work, so they took the Beast home. Rick didn’t know why his mom hadn’t driven to the stadium—possibly to save gas. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was it felt weird to be in the passenger seat, his mom having decided he wasn’t fit to drive.
The car ride home was unexpectedly quiet. Rick had thought his mom would have a ton of questions for him, but she seemed content to let him sit, his head tipped against the cool glass of the window. He surprised himself by breaking the silence first. “Dani still at Uncle Vic’s?”
“Yes. I told him not to mention anything about tonight—it’s late, and she needed to go to bed. I’ll tell her in the morning.”
“Okay,” Rick said. “I can drop you back off at work so you can finish your shift.”
She made an exasperated sound. “Rick, you’re not driving. I’m also not going back to work tonight.”
He shot up in his seat. “But—”
“No,” she said firmly.
Anxiety made his pulse pick up, and he did the math in his head, calculating how much time she’d missed, hourly wage…shit. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe I can pick up some more hours at the garage.”
She smacked her hand on the dash, which only gave a muted whump due to the fur.
She sighed. “Well, that took the drama right out of it, didn’t it?
” She slowed for a stop sign, checking both ways and taking the opportunity to look over at Rick.
“Honey, I appreciate you being so responsible, for being there and helping Dani and making things a little smoother for me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m the grown-up here.
It’s my job to worry about the bills, not yours. I’ll figure something out.”
“I can help!” The anxiety suddenly shifted into a morass of anger and frustration. “I’m eighteen—”
“Barely.”
He scowled at her. “I’m eighteen,” he repeated. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone. If he’d just—” Rick bit his tongue, the fight draining out of him in weary surrender as he sank into his seat. “Why won’t you let me help?”
She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Rick, sweetheart, you do help, with Dani, and the bills, but you also have to finish school and—” She shook her head, pulling the van to a stop in front of his uncle’s house.
“I don’t like that you’re worried about this all the time.
I mean, look at tonight. You went through a horribly traumatic thing, and the first thing you did was apologize to me.
That’s not right, Rick. None of this is right. ”
She turned off the car and rested her cheek against the steering wheel so she could face him.
Rick reached out and took her hand. “Sometimes I’m so mad at him. You know?”
Her smile was faint, but it was there. “Oh, Rick, sometimes I’m so furious at him that I think I might actually be able to spit acid. But it doesn’t solve anything, and I don’t want it eating either of us up.”
“Me neither.”
She sat up and squeezed his hand. “I need you to know that you don’t have to take care of me or run yourself into the ground with work to prove to anyone that you’re not like him. We know you’re not. We love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Then stop protecting me, Rick. I don’t want to have to find out what you’re going through from Serena—though I am so grateful for her and the Lopez family.
” She blew out a harsh breath. “I’ll be honest—I’m not sure what we’d do without them, and I’m not saying don’t lean on them or tell them things.
I’m just saying tell me first.” She paused.
“Unless you need a lawyer. Then call her first and then call me. Okay?”
“Okay, Mom.”
She watched him like she was weighing his words. “Okay. Let’s go in, then. Your uncle’s going to want details, and frankly so do I, and I don’t want to make you repeat it twice. You’re sure as shit going to be repeating it enough for the police.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Rick said, before he followed her into his uncle’s house to tell them about the worst night of his life, hoping that they’d do what they always did and make him feel better.
—