His Reverie (34 page)

But it wasn’t enough. I fell asleep afterward and dreamed of death. Of finding Krista on my kitchen floor, her eyes open wide and full of fear, blood everywhere. I woke with a jolt, sitting straight up and panting hard, my body coated with sweat. Reverie was right there next to me, murmuring soothing words, her arms around me, her lips on my skin.

When we finally got out of bed so I could get ready for work, Reverie went to the living room and turned on the local news. The lead breaking story was the suspicious strangling death of a teenage girl and her father being brought in for questioning. She was found on her front doorstep by a neighbor, who called the cops. They didn’t name names but they didn’t have to. Footage from earlier in the complex parking lot was shown during the news report.

It was Krista. And she was dead.

Gone.

Guilt washes over me, and settles like a heavy cloud. My heart hurts. My head hurts. I hated what she did to me, hated what the two of us had become to each other these last few months, but I sure as hell never once wished death on her. Not even in my darkest moments when I was so pissed at Krista I couldn’t see straight.

“I’m so sorry,” Reverie says, rubbing my arm as if that could soothe me. I can hardly feel her touch. I’m numb. In shock. “I-I didn’t really like her or approve of what she did to you but no one should have to die at such a young age.”

I have no answer for Reverie because what she said is true. No one should have to die at such a young age. But Krista did. She was freaking murdered. Someone
strangled
her.

Holy. Shit.

“Do you think her dad could’ve done that to her?”

“I don’t know.” I stare at the TV, not really hearing what they’re saying. They’ve already moved on, talking cheerily about the weather. How this storm brought in some much needed rain to the west coast, though it was going to warm up again. An animated sun wearing black sunglasses flashes on the screen as they talk about today’s high temperatures and I want to punch my fist in its too-happy face.

Someone fucking died and it’s like no big deal. Let’s move on. What the hell is wrong with people? Have we become so conditioned that we talk about death and great weather all in the same breath?

“Hey.” Reverie’s voice brings me out of my thoughts and back down to earth. “You going to take a shower before we leave?”

“I’m fine,” I automatically say, though I’m not. Not even close. “I need some coffee.”

She exhales loudly. “Me too. Let’s leave in a few minutes and pick something up on the way there.” She stands, looking determined to make this as normal a morning as possible. Too late. That’s so not happening. “I’m going to get dressed.” We threw her clothes in the dryer last night after we showered and they were still in there. One of the things Mom loved best about this apartment was that it came with its own washer and dryer…

Sadness bears down on me and I try to shake it off. First Mom and now Krista. In six months’ time I lose two people close to me. Why?

Why?

“Nick.” Reverie shakes my shoulders. “I know this is tough. But you need to stay strong and make it through today. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay,” I say with a quick nod. Reverie backs away from me and I stand, going to my room so I can change into my work clothes. I move like a robot, methodically doing the same thing I’ve done for the last few months but everything’s changed. Mom is gone and I’ve dealt with that. Somewhat. Now Krista is gone too. Reverie is in my house. She spent the night in my bed tangled up with me and we had sex multiple times while sometime out in the parking lot, someone killed Krista.

And now Reverie is riding out to her parents’ house with me while I go to work. How we’re going to sneak her in, I don’t know, but we’ll figure something out. We have to. No way am I going to get caught, not now. Though now would probably be the most likely time for us to get caught because I’m so damn distracted I’ll likely fuck something up.

I just…I can’t even think straight. I am in a serious state of shock.

She distracts me though. Reverie. She rides right beside me in my truck and indicates with a wave of her hand that we should pull over at the local coffee place so I do. I wait in the truck while she goes inside and picks up our order, bringing me a giant coffee exactly how I like it, full of creamer and a little bit of sugar. I sip it gratefully, down almost half of it in about five minutes before I fire the truck back up and pull out of the parking lot.

“You okay?” Reverie asks, lacing her fingers with mine and resting our joined hands on my thigh.

“Yeah.” Not really but I want to be, especially for Reverie. I can feel the slight tremble in her fingers and I know she’s nervous about…everything. What happened to Krista, what’s happening with us, what’s happening with her family.

As I drive with the windows rolled down, the fresh air blows over us, smelling of last night’s rain mixed with the scent of the ocean. The wind sends Reverie’s hair scattering, wild strands crossing my face and I bat it away, making her giggle. That rare sound lifts my spirits and I focus on it. Focus on her. The way she fits so perfectly against my side, how good her hand feels in mine. I remember last night, the way she felt moving beneath me, her breath in my ear, my name falling from her lips when I made her come…

I chance a glance at her, overwhelmed at her beauty even though she’s wearing yesterday’s wrinkled clothes, no makeup on and her hair a mess. She catches me looking at her and she smiles shyly, leans over and drops a quick kiss on my lips. “Give yourself time,” she says, her voice soft and full of so much understanding I wonder yet again how I got so damn lucky that this girl is mine. Because she is mine, we’ve established that and there’s no going back. “Death is difficult to deal with. We all process in our own way.”

“I feel like I’ve dealt with a lot of death lately,” I say, choking up a little. I clear my throat, getting rid of the lump that formed there. I feel like a baby, wanting to cry. I need to look strong and prove I can take it like a man. It’s not that I’m sad for Krista because I was in love with her or anything.

But I’ve known her for what feels like forever. It’s terrible that she’s gone. And if her dad had anything to do with it then that’s fucked up times a thousand. Fucked up so bad, I can hardly wrap my head around it. I know her dad is an ass and they didn’t have the best relationship, but for him to kill her? I just…

Can’t imagine.

“You have. But you’re strong. I know you can handle it. You’ve handled a lot already.” She smiles at me. “And you have me by your side, so how can you go wrong?”

Her words are sweet, but are they one hundred percent true? Do I have her by my side? If her parents have their way, they’ll be gone in less than a week. Back to Southern California while I’m here alone. With no one, not even Krista.

Not that she was a big help but shit. I literally have no one once Reverie leaves, once Michael goes back to college.

Pushing my gloomy thoughts aside, I concentrate on driving and soon we’re turning into the Hale’s driveway. I slow as we cruise down the graveled driveway, unease slipping down my spine like ice cold fingers. Something’s not right. I can sense it. And when I see the police car sitting in the Hale’s circular driveway, I know it.

Reverie releases my hand to grip my thigh. “Why are the police here?” Her voice is sharp and high. She sounds scared.

“I don’t know,” I say grimly, pulling into the little graveled lot and parking the truck before I turn to look at her. “Do you think your parents are looking for you?”

She glances at her cell phone, her thumbs flying as she starts scrolling. “I have no messages or texts. They think I’m with Evan. Remember?”

“Maybe they don’t. Maybe they found out the truth, or maybe Evan ratted you out. They probably called the cops if they thought you were missing.”

“Evan wouldn’t tell on me. I know it,” she murmurs as she lifts her head and stares at the house. “I really hope they’re not freaking out.” She moves away from me and goes to open the passenger side door. “I need to find out what’s going on.”

She’s gone before I can say anything else. Before I can touch her, kiss her, let her know how I feel. I watch as she flies toward the house, her hair streaming out behind her as bright as the sun. My heart aches and I rub my chest, feeling like a lovesick idiot. This moment feels like it’s imprinting itself on me. As if I better remember just how Reverie looks because I won’t ever see her again.

Worry settles over me, familiar and draining all at once. I take my time locking my truck and walking toward the house. I don’t see Michael’s car but we’re early so he’s probably not here yet. I make my way up the driveway, squinting against the sun when I see the two police officers coming out of the house and headed straight toward me.

“You Nicholas Fairfield?” one of them asks.

I stand up straighter, ignoring the prickle of unease that settles between my shoulder blades. “Yes, sir.”

The other one approaches, his dark gaze intense as he locks eyes with me. “We need to take you down to the station, son.”

“Why?” I look around but don’t see Reverie. She must still be in the house. Does this have to do with her not coming home last night? Am I gonna get charged with kidnapping or something? That’s a federal offense. I could do serious time if the charges hold up.

Would her parents really do that to me?

“We want to ask you a few questions,” the other cop says, his voice a little softer, his demeanor much more relaxed. I get what they’re doing. I’ve been through this before. I know the local police are real big on the good cop versus bad cop tactic when they question people.

“About what?” I ask as the meaner one comes to grasp hold of my arm. I tear out of his hold and back away. “Am I being arrested?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” The good cop smiles. “We just need to talk to you. Find out where you were last night.”

“I was at home.” The minute the words leave me I regret them. I need to keep my lips shut. I learned that long ago.

“Uh huh. Well, you can tell us all about it when we get to the station.” The mean one grabs my arm again and steers me towards the police car.

“What’s this all about?” I ask again, hating how my voice shakes the slightest bit. I can’t help it. Cops make me nervous. “And my truck’s here. Can’t I just follow you?”

“I’m sure the Hales won’t mind if you leave your truck here,” the nice cop says, all easygoing like nothing’s wrong. But he’s a liar. Something is definitely wrong.

“I didn’t take her from here,” I blurt out, unable to control my rising panic. My heart is beating so hard I feel like it’s going to explode out of my chest. “She showed up at my place last night. She wanted to be with me.”

“Who you talking about son?” The nice cop squints at me, his expression eager.

“Reverie Hale.” I’m pointing out the obvious. Who else would I be talking about?

“This has nothing to do with Reverie Hale.” The nice one frowns and glances at his partner, looking confused.

I’m confused too. “Then what is this about?” I ask. It dawns on me as soon as I ask the question and the mean-as-hell cop confirms my suspicions.

“It’s about Krista Benson’s murder. You know, your precious little girlfriend? She’s
dead.”
The bad cop spits the words out like bullets and each one is a direct hit to my chest.

I rub at my chest again. My lungs are tight. I feel like I can’t take a deep breath. They think I had something to do with her murder. Holy. Shit. “I didn’t see her last night,” I offer up weakly.

“You were supposed to meet her.” They both have a hold on me now, each of them gripping my arms and walking me over to the police car. One of them opens the back door and shoves me inside and I sit sideways on the narrow seat, thankful at least they didn’t put the cuffs on me.

“I didn’t. I swear. You can ask…” My voice drifts and I glance out the tinted window of the backseat of the car. I don’t see Reverie anywhere and relief floods me. She doesn’t need to get drawn into this mess. I need to talk to her but I don’t want to ruin her cover with her parents. If they knew she was with me last night there would be hell to pay.

But she’s my only alibi.

“Who can we ask what? Were you with someone else last night? Now is the time to tell us.”

I clamp my lips shut and blow out a frustrated exhale through my nose. I’m screwed. Fucked. This feels too familiar. I remember when the cops showed up at my apartment long ago, Mom ushering them in quick for fear the neighbors would see. Her fear is almost comical to remember now when I think of how they escorted me out of the apartment in handcuffs for everyone to see. And everyone did see.

My poor mom. It still hurts to think of the pain I must’ve put her through.

The detectives seemed to get some sort of sick thrill when they delivered the news to me so matter of fact. I sat facing them across a giant table, the room cold and nondescript, the grim glee in their voices when they spoke to me.

You killed a man with your best friend, Nick. Now tell us the truth. Give us your side of the story. We know you did it.

They’d been wrong then. Just like they’re wrong now.

“You not going to talk?” The kind one asks as he slips into the driver’s seat, his gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror.