Chapter 29 Mack
"What the fucking hell?" I shout, crawling on my hands and knees to the man lying on his back between a few large trees. I can't make out his clothing or his face. Not until I get to him.
"Help me," he rasps, his eyes rolling into the back of his head like he's ten seconds away from expiring. Shit! I'm a medical student; I should know how to fix this.
"It was them..." he trails off through a gurgle in his throat.
Oh, hell no. That better not be the death gurgle bubbling up his throat. This asshole needs to live so we can get some clues as to what is happening.
"Them? Who the fuck is them? What's your name?
" I illuminate his body again, trying to memorize the details of his injuries, and fuck, I almost wish I hadn't.
"How the fuck are you still alive?" I sit back on my heels, taking in the massive amounts of blood around him. It stains the leaves and the dirt.
"D-dane..." he gasps out one last time before his body goes limp.
"Well fuck..." I breathe, watching as he dies right before my eyes.
I'm no stranger to death. I wish I was, though.
So, this isn't the first time something like this has happened.
It won't be the last in my line of work.
But fuck. Why did it have to be me? I swear the stars fucking hate me.
I dig through his pockets, not caring about my damn fingerprints and take out his driver's license and school ID.
Dane Moore. He was a senior at Greenwood.
I need to get the fuck out of here before the cops show.
They have my number. They'll track me down if they'd like.
But I'm in a much better position being at the mansion with Franco a call away than here in the woods with bloodthirsty cops ready to pin this on me.
Ain't no way that's happening to me. Even if Franco has them in his pocket, there's always one cop who wants to show the world the bad guys and try to come out on top. Me and the authorities? We don’t mix. I’d rather have Franco take care of it all.
I step back, leaving all his identification on his body, and bring my phone to my ear.
"Dude," I say, slowly walking through the woods toward our house, attempting to move quickly but not run.
"There's a body in the fucking woods. Call off the party and meet me at home.
We need to talk about what the fuck I just found. "
"Fuck you talking about?" Hux grunts through the phone, with noise infiltrating from the background.
"It happened again. Senior. Tell JJ. Meet me at home.
" I repeat my words, hoping he understands why I'm so cryptic.
He should. We've been best friends and brothers for years now.
I know everything about the fucker. Like his nose twitches before he sneezes.
Or when his lids droop right before he tells a lie.
I know Huxley better than I know myself sometimes. And that says a lot.
"Fuck. Brief me at home." Hux hangs up on me as I make my way, weaving between the tall trees and finally up the path to our home. The sight of the daisies in the bright moonlight brings me one small ounce of joy. Something that won't happen over the next few hours.
The music in the graveyard abruptly ends, and voices rise as Hux sends everyone home for the night. The echoes of their displeasure ring through the air. Too bad. So sad. Go back to your dorm rooms and pout about it. We've got a real issue at hand.
Fucking murder.