Chapter 21 #2
Savannah swallowed, her attention sharp. She whispered, “Do you know where the girl is now? Who is she?”
Mary’s eyes darkened. “I don’t know where she is,” she said. “But I do know who she is. And Hadley . . . if you’re going to her, you need to understand something.”
My breath hitched.
“She wasn’t the same person after it.” She looked away, the memory making her sad. “She dropped out not long after.”
“Because of what happened? Or because they changed the narrative?” Savannah muttered darkly.
Mary nodded. “Either way, it definitely changed her.”
The front door opened, and my breath hitched.
“Mar!” a voice called.
Mary winced. “Um . . . in here! I’m not alone!”
Brent walked into the front room and stopped dead, their daughter in one of those baby-carrier things that always looked uncomfortable for the kid, in my opinion. “Hadley?”
“Hey,” I said, not flinching when I met his gaze.
“What’s going on?” he asked Mary.
I stood quickly. “I just need her name,” I said with a polite smile that wasn’t real, “and we’ll be gone.”
Savannah stood too — reading the room like she’d trained for it.
Three minutes later, we were back outside. I knew it was three minutes because I’d counted every second.
Savannah buckled in. “So . . . do we talk about that?”
“No.”
She nodded. “Want to talk about everything before that?”
“Don’t you?” I asked, pulling away from the curb, checking my mirrors like I needed a task to keep me upright.
Savannah didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Lots to unpack.”
In the rearview, Mary and Brent stood on the porch, baby strapped to his chest like she was about to go bungee jumping.
Savannah was right.
There was so much to unpack.
* * *
We’d barely made it two blocks before Savannah reached over and patted my knee.
I looked at her and then at my knee. “What’s that for?”
She shrugged. “You did well,” she said simply.
Silence filled the car, but not a peaceful one. It felt heavy. If I gave her any background information, it would have to be all of it. No one needed that. Especially not me. Instead, we sat in silence like both of us were afraid the wrong sentence might break something open.
“So . . .” Savannah said, finally. “We’re not talking about it, but we said we’re . . . talking about it, right?”
I kept my eyes on the road. “Of course.” I switched lanes. “I was processing.”
She snorted. “Good. Because I’m sorry, Hadley, but what the actual hell?”
Fair. Completely fair.
I let out a slow breath. “Yeah, she got better, but I didn’t think she’d be that hostile.”
“I mean, I assumed you guys had an unresolved beef,” Savannah said. “But I didn’t know it was enough of a beef that it could feed a small village.”
“An exaggeration.”
Savannah ignored me. “Like, USDA-certified, marbled resentment.”
I groaned. “You can put the analogy down now. I got it.”
She smiled, but it faded quickly, replaced with something earnest. “Are you okay?”
I didn’t answer right away, because I didn’t know. Mary’s words echoed in my head.
I never saw evidence he did.
Something bigger than one accusation.
She didn’t know who hurt her.
Every sentence was another crack in the story I thought I knew.
Sav reached out and touched my arm lightly. “Hadley.”
“Yeah . . .” I paused, glancing at her. “I know.” I exhaled slowly. “I thought Mason was a bastard.”
“He still could be.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I should have known better. I should have questioned why the university made his name so hard to find. I should have—”
“Stop.” Savannah’s voice was firm. “You can’t rewrite the past. You can only follow what you know now.”
I gripped the wheel tighter. “But if Mason didn’t do it—”
“Then the person who did,” Savannah said gently, “never got caught.”
I swallowed hard. “And the university let it happen.”
“Or covered it up,” she added softly. “But we don’t know yet, Hadley. All we have is supposition and deleted drafts.”
A knot twisted in my stomach. “The party she was at with Mason was in the athletic building,” I said quietly. “The same one where the program buries injuries and pays the players to keep quiet.” I looked at Savannah. “This isn’t just one case. It feels . . . universal.”
Savannah nodded grudgingly. “Yeah. It does feel like that.”
We passed the city-limits sign and merged onto the highway. The world outside blurred — trees, billboards, headlights — but my memory stayed fixed on Mary’s expression when she said they want this buried.
“She’s scared,” I murmured.
“Mary?” Savannah asked.
“Yeah.”
Savannah shrugged. “Maybe she should be.”
I shot her a look. “That’s not comforting.”
“Honesty rarely is.”
Okay. Point taken.
Savannah twisted in her seat to face me. “Do you actually plan to find this girl?”
“Yes,” I said instantly.
She blinked. “No hesitation.”
“No.” My voice cracked. “Because if they removed Mason . . . what’s to say they didn’t do this to her too? She needs someone to give her story back.”
“And you think you’re the one who should do it.”
I stared ahead. “I think I’m already doing it.”
Savannah watched me for a moment, then nodded as if she’d come to a decision. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” She tightened her ponytail like she was gearing up for battle. “You’re not doing this alone.”
I looked at her. “Savann—”
“Nope. Don’t ‘Savannah’ me.” She pointed at me dramatically. “I am invested. I am involved. I am now part of this questionable investigative duo, and you can’t fire me, because I’m a volunteer.”
Despite everything — the fear, the anger, the mess in my chest — I laughed. “Thank you.”
She shrugged like it was nothing. “Dante will murder me when he finds out.”
“Probably.”
“You think Dustin will murder you?”
My breath hitched. Don’t go there. Don’t think about his mouth on yours. “I don’t know,” I said softly. “I don’t think we know each other that well.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to stop him.” Sav raised a brow. “Do you?”
“It’s nothing,” I muttered.
“Hadley—”
I cut her off. “It doesn’t matter. This isn’t about him.”
“Sure,” Savannah said, her tone absolutely unconvinced.
I focused on the road, on the hum of tires, on anything that wasn’t the tightness in my chest whenever I pictured Dustin and his response to where we went. Would he care?
Savannah leaned back, sighing. “So . . . next step?”
I pulled in a breath. “We have her name.”
“And?”
“And we find Tiffany Preacher.”
Savannah nodded once. “Okay. But first — food. I need fries. Investigative integrity demands fries.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “Fine.”
The highway stretched ahead — dark, long, unknown. Just like the story. Just like what came next.
It wasn’t until we were getting food at a diner that I looked at my phone.
Sexy AFWR: Just text me when you’re back.
I stared at it for too long. Huh. Maybe he did care. I saw a flash of Brent and Mary standing on their porch with their daughter, and I remembered why I was single. The evidence of what happened when you let the wrong person get too close.
I deleted Dustin’s message and put my phone back in my pocket.
I had enough trouble with this story; I didn’t need to invite more into my life.
And that man was the very definition of trouble.