Chapter 18
Dylan
The kids were in bed, and Dad was passed out drunk on the couch. I had just grabbed cold pizza from the fridge and put it into the microwave when Grandma’s cell rang on the kitchen table.
The display read Principal Hoover. It was after eight p.m. This was a bit strange.
I picked it up for her before it could go to voicemail.
“Nicole?”
“No,” I said. “I’m sorry, this is her grandson. Hold on a second. She’s in—”
“No, that’s okay,” Mr. Hoover said. “Can you deliver a message to her for me?”
“Well, she’s literally right down here in the basement. I’ll get—”
“No, that won’t be necessary. Just tell her not to come back to school. Take a break from teaching. You know, to rest and take care of you guys.”
There was this strange silence. I bet he knew I saw right through his cheap attempt to make this look like anything other than what it really was.
They were getting rid of her. Because of Mom. And they knew the job meant so much to her. A lifeline still keeping her together. And now they were taking it from her, so they’d better make it sound like it was for her best … not theirs.
“I think she really likes going to work,” I said, as if I could change his mind. “And her students told her the other day how glad they are that she’s still teaching and helping them.”
“Well, buddy …” Mr. Hoover sighed. He sounded like he was talking to a baby or a dog. In that weird kid-friendly voice. It was so fake it was insulting. “I know it’s hard for a kid to understand adult matters, but I’m really doing this for your grandma and—”
“Fuck you.”
“What?”
“I said fuck you. You’re doing this for my grandma, but don’t even have the balls to fire her yourself? You want to use her teenage grandson to deliver the bad news? My grandma has given your school everything, and you don’t even have the decency to meet with her in person. Freaking coward.”
“Ummm …”
“You’ll hear from our lawyer!” I said and hung up.
Then I just stood there. I could literally feel my grandma’s pain over losing this job running through me.
She loved being a teacher. And she was so good at it.
Many of her kids went on to college because of her and her alone.
Now they were pulling this shit because of something someone else did and blamed my mom for.
I ignored my pizza and walked into the basement, which Grandma had turned into an investigation room over the last few hours.
She’d hauled several side tables down the stairs and spread the files she got from Jack’s office across them.
She’d also sorted reports and evidence into little piles on the floor.
Witness statements near the water heater and crime-scene photos on the cleaning-supply shelf.
Everything else, including motives, was on the side tables.
“Grandma?” I stopped halfway down the stairs.
“Yeah?” She looked up, sitting on a chair in the middle of the chaos. Reading some document.
“I … have some really bad news.”
She just froze and stared at me.
“Mr. Hoover called, and—”
“That’s okay.” She focused back on the paper.
I chose my next words carefully, suspecting she most likely misunderstood what I was about to tell her. But before I could say more, she shrugged.
“It was only a matter of time before they would fire me. But it gives me more time to get your mom out, so it’s probably for the best.”
My lips pinched hard. Her face didn’t give anything away, but the way her hands clenched the paper told me that another piece of her heart had just shattered.
“How is it going?” I asked quickly, trying to change the topic. I took a few more steps, but she jumped up from her chair.
“Wait! Don’t come down!” She rushed to the shelf. I caught a glimpse of the photos of Zach’s mutilated body. My stomach clenched. They said he had forty-four stab wounds. His guts had spilled out. Literally. Whoever did this to Zach wasn’t just angry. He or she was a monster.
“You can come down now,” she said, after having flipped the images facedown so only the white backs showed.
I walked into the middle of all the piles, my eyes flicking over her setup.
Then we locked eyes. She looked worried.
Maybe she thought I’d tell her that she had to let the cops do their jobs.
That all this was insane. And maybe it was.
A teacher pretending to be Columbo in a basement filled with spiders.
But this woman was the strongest person I probably knew. So my doubts hardened into something else.
Determination and faith.
“How can I help?” I asked.
“Oh, honey … that’s so kind. I really appreciate it, but—”
“All right, I’ll just come back later,” I said, already turning. “When you’re in bed. Then I’ll sit down here all alone and start with the dead body pictures. You know—like a totally stable teenager.”
I wasn’t ten. I was sixteen. And Grandma knew me. Knew darn well the moment she left this room, I’d be back down here trying to piece it all together myself. I would crawl through fire for my mother.
And why wouldn’t I? She would do the same for me.
I turned on the stairs.
“Wait.” She let out a long breath of annoyance. “But just for a little bit. Then we both need to get some sleep. Deal?”
I nodded.
“Did you find anything yet?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “Just got started. But the motive the police came up with is paper-thin. Basically nonexistent.”
I reached for the folder marked “Motive” and flipped it open.
“Jealousy?” I scoffed, holding up the report. “Seriously?”
“Yup. They said your mom was jealous of Amanda.”
I shook my head. “Mom wouldn’t trade places with Amanda for a billion dollars. If anything, it’s Amanda who was jealous of Mom.”
Grandma cocked a brow. “And why’s that?”
I shrugged. “Because of Dad. Amanda and Dad were childhood sweethearts, all the way through high school.”
“How do you know that?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Dad keeps her love letters in a box in the closet. I found them when I was digging for pictures of Grandpa in his military uniform. For that school project, remember?”
“Well, that was a long time ago, sweetheart.”
“Maybe. But he still keeps them.” My mouth tightened, and my tone was flat.
“Dunno why Mom and all these other women fall for him. Remember when we went on that camping trip a few years back, and all those moths flew straight into the campfire? Literally getting torched to death. That’s what it feels like with women and Dad. ”
“Dylan … your dad is doing what he can.”
“You mean getting wasted at bars?”
“No. I mean coping.”
I pulled out a chair and sat at one of the makeshift tables. My fingers skimmed through the next stack of files.
“I guess,” I finally muttered, softer this time. More for her than me. I didn’t want to upset her at a time when she’d lost a job that was a huge part of who she was. All while reading murder files to save her daughter.
She gave a small nod. “Well, let’s get to it. I’ve got an appointment with a new lawyer tomorrow morning.”
* * *
I checked the time on my phone: 11:51 p.m.
“God, we have to get some sleep,” Grandma said as she stood. Papers were scattered across the basement floor, covering nearly every inch.
I didn’t look up. I was focused on a report in my hands.
“Sweetie, let’s go to bed. You have school tomorrow.”
“Come look at this.” I waved her over, my eyes still fixed on the page.
She stepped between folders and leaned over my shoulder.
“Here.” I pointed at a police report. “It’s from the police call logs the night Zach was killed.
Officer Wrangler responded to a call from the owner of the SeaPort Gas Station, the one on the highway that leads to the dirt road where Zach was found.
The owner called in at 9:42 p.m. to report a suspicious man pumping gas.
Blood on his neck, jeans, and shoes. White male, late thirties, dark-brown hoodie, torn jeans, old white truck.
Drove off westbound. The officer said in his report that it wasn’t related to Zach’s murder. ”
She took the paper from me and read it herself. The words were all there. Exactly as I’d said.
“We have him,” I concluded, smiling for the first time in weeks. “Zach’s real murderer. This is the proof we need to get Mom out!”
It wasn’t that simple. But, still. Something in my chest lifted. That tricky, dangerous thing called hope.
She reached out and gently ran her hand down my cheek.
“Well done, sweetheart.”
I got up so fast, I stumbled. “They must have missed this. We have to go to the police. Right now.”
She shook her head. “Not tonight. It’s too late. They already had this report. I’ll go tomorrow. Right after I meet the new lawyer. Maybe he’ll come with me, throw around legal threats if they don’t follow up on this lead.”
I nodded. “Good idea, Grandma.”
“Bed?” she asked.
“Yeah. I can’t wait to tell Dad all this in the morning. It’ll help him. I think.”
“It will,” she said.