WHO KILLED EMMALINE? (3 page)

I’m beyond lucky that Jenna is still willing to sit by me at lunch. However, it’s not lost on me that she doesn’t invite me to sit with her and her friends in the cafeteria. Instead, she takes me outside to sit on the school lawn, and there’s a part of me that can’t blame her.

“Riley picked apart my conversation with my friend and pieced it together to make me look bad,” I explain to Jenna.

Jenna is now acting a little more reserved towards me, but she still seems friendly enough. She nods with sympathy. “I know. That group gets away with everything, which is why they are nicknamed the Untouchables. All their parents have important roles either in Ambler Ridge or Manchester. Whether it’s political, business, or social, that group is never held accountable for their actions. Riley probably won’t even get a detention for the stunt he pulled since his mother is on the school board, and she makes regular donations to the school. Like I said, they’re untouchable,” Jenna says. She turns her attention to her salad as she pries off the plastic lid and picks up her fork.

I pull the tab on my soda and let my eyes drift around the school lawn. More students have trickled outside to enjoy the sunny afternoon, and most are sitting further away, near the trees, and seem to be engrossed in their own conversations.

“I’m surprised Riley and his friends aren’t out here,” I comment.

Jenna rolls her eyes. “Are you kidding? They’ve staked their claim on the snack room. They get off on taking it over at lunchtime and giving the other students a hard time when they want to buy something out of the snack machines.”

I try to recall the snack room in the cafeteria before we’d slipped into the lunch line. I remember a separate room lined with windows and a couple of students lingering around the doorway. I’d thought it was an office of sorts.

“So they just stand around and bully people in there?” I ask.

Jenna shakes her head as she dabs at her mouth with her napkin. “There’s a conference table; they sit there every day.”

“I don’t think my school had anyone as bad as Riley and his friends.”

“Riley and Emmaline ruled the school for the longest time, even as freshman. Now Piper’s taken her place. Piper’s not as vindictive, but Riley more than makes up for it,” Jenna explains.

“Did Emmaline move away?” I begin unwrapping my sandwich as I wait for her reply.

“You haven’t heard?”

Her tone has me looking at her, and I note that she looks uneasy now. “Heard what?” I ask curiously, my sandwich now forgotten.

“Emmaline was murdered,” she says softly.

“Murdered?” I stare at her. “You mean like killed?”

Jenna nods, looking uncomfortable as she picks at her salad.

“Who did it?” I ask automatically.

Her fork stills. “No one really knows for sure. The police had two suspects but couldn’t get their hands on any actual evidence.” She looks up at me, her expression troubled. “So they walked.”

“You mean they’re
free?
”

Jenna looks across the lawn and nods towards someone. “He’s one of the suspects, and so is his older brother,” she says in a hushed voice.

With a frown, I follow her gaze and study the dark-haired guy that is sitting by himself against a tree. He looks completely engrossed in whatever he is drawing in his sketch pad. His hair looks black in the sunlight, and it’s chin-length and tucked behind his ears as he draws. He’s wearing dark clothing, and even from here, I can tell he’s probably tall. Maybe even taller than Riley. As he draws, his arm flexes, drawing my attention to his bicep. A black design peeks out from beneath his short sleeve.

Jenna’s admiring tone interrupts my thoughts. “He’s nice to look at, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I confess.

Jenna snags my eyes with hers. “Stay away from him. He’s really messed up,” she warns.

“How so?”

“Emmaline was secretly seeing him, and the police found video footage on Cord’s laptop.” She flushes, looking embarrassed. “Let’s just say Cord and Emmaline had an interest in creepy…disturbing sex. Her parents were so mortified by what the investigation unearthed that they moved away six months ago. They couldn’t handle the rumors, and the investigation was really difficult for them. I don’t blame them.”

I am now absolutely fascinated by this conversation. “How creepy?”

Jenna clears her throat, looking down at her salad. “Emmaline evidently liked…uh, being dominated. Cord wore masks.”

Masks? Weird.
“What kind of masks?” I can’t resist asking as I dig for more gossip.

Jenna’s nose wrinkles with distaste as she looks back up at me. “The scary kind. Like monster scary.”

I glance back at the guy who is still drawing. “That’s definitely creepy,” I agree.

“No kidding. Emmaline always referred to him as a freak for years, so everyone else did too. He’s always been a bit of a social outcast because of her, his past, and his totally weird brother. It’s odd that they even hooked up at all. Everyone assumes she broke it off with him, and that he was likely obsessed by that time and wanted payback, so he killed her.”

This isn’t exactly what I’d been expecting to hear for gossip at my new school, but it’s definitely interesting.

“Just be careful if you’re ever around him,” Jenna advises. “Emmaline’s body was butchered into so many pieces that the coroner here in town had a stroke when they brought in her remains. Her body had been dumped in the Redstone Creek, but we all call it Blood Creek now. No one will go near that creek unless someone’s playing a game of truth or dare.”

“How did the police find out she’d been seeing Cord if their relationship was a secret?”

“The police searched Emmaline’s room and found her diary. She’d written about her secret relationship with Cord, which gave the police reason to search Cord’s place.”

“I’m surprised Cord didn’t wipe his laptop clean before the police got their hands on it,” I comment.

“I don’t think he saw the warrant coming, it all happened really fast.”

My eyes shift back to the subject of our conversation. “Do the police really think he’s capable of murder?”

“He has a nasty temper.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Cord was a freshman, he put a classmate in the hospital after nearly beating him to death. He spent some time in juvie and dropped out of school. Then he came back a year later, a full year behind. If he’d stayed in school and hadn’t gotten in trouble, he would have graduated last year with his original class.”

“What about his brother? Why is his brother a suspect?”

“His older brother is his alibi.”

“I see,” I murmur.

Wait until Sidney and Chelsea hear about this. Maybe Ambler Ridge won’t be as boring as I’d assumed it to be.

I flop down onto my bed and try calling Sidney, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. I try calling Chelsea, because I really, really need to tell someone about my bad day. After lunch, things had gone downhill as the guys had stared at me or snickered, and the girls had looked at me as if I was nothing more than a piece of gum stuck on the bottom of their shoe. Jenna’s the only person in the school that is willingly talking to me.

“Hey!” Chelsea greets excitedly when she picks up on the other end. “You’re never going to guess who asked me to the homecoming dance!”

I’m not about to ruin her good day with my bad one, so I put aside my own drama so that I can concentrate on Chelsea’s elation. It’s a comfort to hear her voice, and my earlier mood fades. She and I are a lot alike, and she’s content doing her own thing without any added drama. Back in South Bend, it had taken both of us to keep Sidney out of trouble, and I feel bad that the job has now single-handedly fallen upon Chelsea’s shoulders. The rest of our friends usually egg Sidney on instead of talking her down from doing something stupid.

“Who?” I ask curiously.

“Jeremiah! I thought he was never going to notice me! Sidney’s going with me shopping this weekend to pick out a dress. When is homecoming there? Have you met anyone? How was your first day?” Chelsea asks, switching the topic to me.

This would be the perfect opening to tell her about my day, but I know Chelsea will be bothered by my dilemma when she should be celebrating her upcoming homecoming date. I lie and tell her everything is going great, and I know that when I eventually tell her the truth, she’s going to be mad that I hadn’t confided in her.

We talk for a while until I hear my mom arrive home from wherever she’d been, and I can hear her beginning to pull out pots and pans to make dinner. I’m not interested in sharing my day with her, so after I hang up with Chelsea, I pull out my homework and appreciate the fact that she hasn’t come searching for me yet.

By the time dinner is ready, Mitch is home, and we are sitting around the table as we dish up our plates. My mom sets down the bowl of dinner rolls and looks at me expectantly. “So, how was your day?”

I know she’s been dying to ask ever since she’d seen my car in the driveway, and I’m betting it took all her restraint not to come up to my room earlier. “It was fine.” I pick up my fork and dig into the casserole on my plate.

“Did you make friends?” I hear her ask expectantly.

Don’t do it. It’s not worth starting drama.
I want to listen to the practical side of my subconscious, but I can’t help but blame my mom for the predicament that I’m now in at the school.

I set down my fork and meet her gaze. “No, I haven’t made any friends. That’s because Riley recorded my conversation with Sidney and played it over the intercom today. Now the entire school thinks I’m a slut.”

Silence falls over the table.

Mitch sets down his own fork, a frown marring his handsome face. “Riley did what?”

“What do you mean he played your conversation over the intercom at school?” my mom asks.

“I was talking to Sidney when we first arrived on Saturday, and he must have been in the hallway recording my side of the conversation. He then picked it apart and put it back together so that it sounded like I was saying stuff that I wasn’t really saying.”

Her brow creases, and then her eyes turn exasperated. “And now the school thinks that you’re a slut? What exactly were you girls talking about?”

She knows that I’ve been sexually active since I turned sixteen, so sex isn’t exactly a new topic for us. Mitch’s already looking uncomfortable with this conversation, so I shoot him an apologetic look before responding to my mom’s question. “We were talking about sex, and you know how Sidney is. Well, Riley manipulated the conversation so that I was saying that I wanted to sleep with the entire football team.”

Mitch clears his throat awkwardly, his posture now rigid in his chair. “I’ll have a talk with him.”

“I suppose this is to be expected,” my mom murmurs. I can tell that she’s feeling torn over the situation as she tries to decide whether to side with me or brush off Riley’s sabotage in hopes of avoiding any conflict with Mitch.

“I know my son can be a handful at times, but I won’t tolerate him taking his anger out on Krista,” Mitch says, looking very disappointed over his son’s actions.

“Of course not, but this has all happened so fast, it’s not all that surprising that he’s acting out over the divorce.” She turns her attention on me. “You should really be careful what you say, especially when it pertains to sex.”

“I was in my
room.
I thought I had privacy.”

Breakfast is more than a little tense the following morning since it’s just my mom and me. Mitch is off to work, and seeing as my mom hasn’t gotten a job yet, she has plenty of free time on her hands. The silence in the kitchen is heavy, and the only sound that breaks it is when my fork scrapes against my plate as I cut into my waffle.

I’m still angry that she’d implied that Riley’s sabotage was my own fault for not filtering my conversations. I thought I’d had privacy.

My mom sighs loudly into the silence. “Krista, this silent treatment is childish.”

“It’s not silent treatment. I just have nothing to say,” I say simply, reaching for my orange juice.

“Look, it was wrong for Riley to do what he did, I didn’t mean to suggest that it wasn’t. I just have to be careful what I say when it comes to Mitch’s son. This is all still so new…”

“Mom, you pretty much claimed it was my own fault for discussing sex.”

She winces. “Honey, try to look at it from my point of view. It was a bit embarrassing that you were sabotaged because you were discussing sex with your friend. I understand that you girls talk and confide in one another about probably everything, but Mitch has never had to deal with a teenage girl. Did you see his expression last night?”

I recall the look on his face and try not to smile, but it’s a losing battle as my lips twitch. “He looked pretty uncomfortable.”

She begins to smile when she sees my own amusement. “Yes, he did.” She sobers up, her hazel eyes meeting mine. “You and I have always been honest with one another, and I’d prefer that you continue feeling comfortable talking to me about personal things, and that includes sex. But we’re now living with a man who needs to slowly ease into daily life with us. Let’s not scare the poor guy off.”

“We can’t, you’re married,” I remind her. “He’d have to divorce you to escape.”

“Yes, well, one divorce is enough for me. Let’s not make it two.”

“Fine. No more sex talk at the dinner table,” I agree. “And for the record, this conversation doesn’t mean that you and I are back to the way we were before. I’m still less than thrilled to be here, and I get that I have to deal with it, but that still doesn’t mean you and I are going to immediately go back to the way things used to be.”

“Oh honey, things will get better. You’re a very pretty girl, and you had plenty of friends back in South Bend. I’m sure this thing will blow over in no time.”

I almost choke on the piece of waffle I’d just put in my mouth, and I quickly swallow. “Mom, the whole school heard me say I’d screw the entire football team. That’s not going to blow over in a matter of days.”

She grimaces, giving me a quizzical look. “The entire football team, Krista? What in the world were you two girls talking about during that conversation?”

“Sidney’s with Nev now. I was teasing her because if you think about it, she’s basically slept with the entire football team.”

“I see. That girl has no restraint, does she?”

“None whatsoever.”