Gilt Hollow (14 page)

Some of the kids cleared out, heading to class, and the view opened. The words Y
OU
'
RE
N
EXT
! were spray-painted in red on a locker door, and Isaiah Kagawa knelt cleaning up crumpled pieces of paper that had spilled out onto the floor. Moving through the crowd, Willow picked one up and rejoined Lisa and Ashton. She knew what it was before she finished unfolding it.

She glanced back to where Ashton peered over her shoulder at the flyer with his face on it. A muscle jumped in his cheek, his eyes darkening before he moved around her and strode into the center of the gathering. There were several sharp intakes of breath, and half the group dispersed while the other more-curious half seemed to lean in.

A guy next to them whispered, “Isaiah was at the falls when Daniel died, right? Do you think someone thinks he had something to do with it?”

His friend responded, “That or Keller thinks Isaiah put up the posters and he's getting his revenge.”

Immediately, Willow knew the guy was wrong. Even if Ashton thought Isaiah had something to do with plastering his face all over town, he'd just confront him about it. This was too . . . passive-aggressive.

Ashton squatted in front of Isaiah and began to help him gather balls of paper. “I'd be happy if I never saw this picture of my ugly mug again.” He paused and then added, “I didn't do this, Isaiah.”

The PA system crackled and Principal McNachtan's voice blared through the hallway, “Ashton Keller, please report to the office immediately.”

Still staring at the floor, Isaiah replied, “Maybe not, but sounds like you're about to take the fall for it.”

And whoever
did
do it had known exactly that. Willow glanced up and down the corridor, searching for a security camera. She knew the building had a few outside, but she'd never had reason to notice if they'd installed them inside as well. She scanned the walls above the lockers and found one mounted at the other end of the hallway.

“Ashton Keller,” Mr. Rush barked as he entered the circle of students, scattering those who remained.

Lisa muttered, “I'll catch you in first period,” and then took off like her feet had wheels. She'd seen her share of violent confrontations in her school in New York and had told Willow she had no stomach for them.

Ashton's shoulders stiffened before he looked up, his face void of expression. Mr. Rush stood with his legs spread, hands gripping his thick waist. Ashton rose slowly, towering half a foot over the music teacher.

“I believe the principal requested your presence.” He grabbed Ashton's arm in a fierce grip. “That means
now
.”

Ashton's fists clenched at his sides before he jerked his arm away from the teacher's hold and growled, “I can walk on my own.”

Willow tried to catch his gaze, to communicate with her eyes that she supported him, but he stared straight ahead as they walked away.

“Man, he's totally screwed.”

Willow turned to find Brayden watching Ashton and Mr. Rush head toward the stairs.

“Why?” Willow squeezed her book bag to her chest. “He didn't do it.”

Brayden gave a noncommittal shrug. “I just came from the office. The police are here.”

“For a locker prank?”

“No, something about a robbery at Twisted Beauty last night.”

Willow's throat constricted as she watched the back of Ashton's dark head disappear down the staircase. If he was convicted of another crime this soon, they'd lock him up and throw away the key. And that fleeting glimpse might be the last she ever saw of him.

T
he police station stank of burnt coffee and fear. Ashton shifted down on the metal folding chair, then stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles while trying to hold his arms still so the handcuffs wouldn't chafe.

He'd been waiting for over an hour for Chief Kagawa to come in and ream him. All the deputies would tell him was that Kagawa wanted to question him about a local robbery. Ashton fought against panic.
Questioning
meant he was a suspect, but he hadn't taken so much as a Tic Tac that didn't belong to him since he'd been in town. Surely they'd determine that quickly and he'd be on his way. But as another hour ticked by, he had to wonder if Kagawa had left him there to cool his jets as some sort of strategy.

Ashton gripped the unforgiving edge of the metal cuffs as he watched the deputies begin
another
game of paper-triangle football. If he had to sit in an office all day with these meatbags, his head would explode. The extent of their excitement in the last two hours had been booking a street performer for disturbing the peace and panhandling. No wonder Kagawa followed him around like a hound dog on a family of rabbits.

But as the phones quieted and the paper triangle rested on the corner of a desk, Ashton's thoughts journeyed down a twisted path to a memory he'd tried hard to avoid. The last time he'd been in this station had been the worst night of his life.

“A boy is dead! Because of you . . .” Kagawa leans forward into his face. “We have three witnesses, Mr. Keller. Admit it and this will all be over soon.”

The image of Daniel, head smashed on the rocks, blood everywhere, his neck at a grotesque angle, dominates Ashton's vision, blocking out the three sets of eyes drilling into him. Without hesitation, even though it was too late, Ashton had jumped over the falls after his friend. Screamed his name. Touched his fractured skull. Blood coating his fingers, he'd emptied his stomach in the water that rushed around him. Brayden, Colin, and Isaiah stared down from above. Silent.

Fire burns through Ashton's chest, scalding his throat and leaking out of his eyes. “Yes, it was my fault.” A mumble, nothing more, but enough.

The door to the small windowless room bursts open. “Are you questioning my minor client? Nothing he's said is admissible, Kagawa, and you know it!”

Ashton snapped back to the present. The attorney had been wrong. Between the three witnesses who claimed Ashton had pushed Daniel, their argument moments before, and his whispered confession in front of the chief, Ashton's lawyer had convinced him to accept responsibility and take the plea bargain. But that guileless kid no longer existed. This time there would be no coerced admissions.

The double doors burst open, bringing a rush of cool, dry air and a flurry of dead leaves. The chief, flanked by an officer on each side, strode into the station. Ashton resisted the urge to straighten in his chair. “Mr. Keller, sorry to keep you waiting. We'll get all this business over as quickly as
possible.” He nodded to the deputies, who moved to stand on either side of Ashton. Before they could reach him, he bent his knees and shot to his feet.

Forcing a neutral tone, Ashton leveled his gaze on Kagawa. “What is it you're accusing me of, Chief?”

Kagawa's mouth flattened, but something in his eyes glittered. “Oh, not accusing, merely questioning. Didn't my men explain?” He shook his head as if shamed. “Twisted Beauty was robbed last night, and your bike was spotted parked outside.”

Ashton felt his jaw unhinge but snapped it closed again. He'd spent the entire weekend camped in the store, which would look pretty damning. “I'd like to call my attorney.”

The chief waved a dismissive hand. “No need, son. You aren't under arrest. As I said, we're just chatting.”

Ashton's back locked, his eyes narrowing. He'd experienced the good chief's
chats
. “Then you have no right to hold me.” He lifted his cuffed wrists.

“Oh, good gravy!” Kagawa let out a humorless chuckle and pointed at the nearest deputy. “Unlock those cuffs.”

The cop complied, and Ashton rubbed the feeling back into his wrists.

“I must apologize. My men aren't accustomed to dealing with felons.”

Ashton froze, already done with the games. “Since I'm sure you haven't found any evidence against me, I need to get back to class.” He met Kagawa's beady stare. “I'm missing Music Appreciation.” He strode forward, but as he passed, the chief snagged his arm.

“Not so fast.” Nose to nose, Kagawa stared him down. “A few questions should clear this whole matter up quickly.” Not releasing Ashton's arm, he steered him into a small, windowless room.

“I'm thinking my probation officer should be here for this,” Ashton commented as the chief shut the door behind them. “Zane Reed? He told me he's been in contact with you.” Although Ashton didn't relish his meetings with the overzealous officer of the court, the man struck him as being 100 percent by the book. Unlike Kagawa, who liked to twist the law to his own purposes. “I think he'll be interested to hear how your deputies handcuffed me and hauled me in here when I'm not even under arrest.”

“Have a seat, Mr. Keller.” The chief pulled out a tarnished folding chair.

Ashton widened his stance and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Fine, you're welcome to stand, but I've had a rough day.” Kagawa took off his hat, set it on the table, and perched on the edge, one foot anchored to the floor. “When, or should I say
if
, I contact your probation officer, you will become an official suspect. I don't think you want that.”

Ashton lowered his chin and stared at the man who had taken four years of his life. Enunciating each word so that there was no mistake, Ashton said, “I didn't take anything from Jeff or Twisted Beauty.”

“Oh, come on, Ashton. Jeff told us you admitted to him you were low on cash. Desperate times call for desperate measures. No one would blame you for trying to survive.”

Thanks Jeff
, Ashton thought, wondering if he'd also told Kagawa the rest of their conversation about Ashton deciding to sell some more of his grandma's records. He wasn't without resources. It just sucked to have to give up the things his grandparents had left to him—especially since they'd been the only true parental figures in his family.

“You're wasting my time, Chief, and I'd like to know why. I'm positive Jeff told you I didn't do this.”

The cop's eyes turned to slits and he leaned forward. “I'm wasting
your
time? I've spent the last four hours investigating your screwups.” Kagawa shot to his feet and crossed the room in two strides, stopping inches from Ashton's face. “Including my son's locker being vandalized!”

Seething, Ashton forced his arms to stay folded, pressed his fists into his sides, and leaned into the old man's beet-red face. “I. Didn't. Do. It. I didn't piss on Colin's jersey or steal from my only friend in town or trash Isaiah's locker . . . I didn't do any of it!”

A smirk twisted the chief's face, and he stepped back. Ashton's heart slammed against his ribs as he waited, racking his brain for what he'd said wrong. What he'd given away that Kagawa was about to use against him.

Resuming his perch on the corner of the table, Chief Kagawa tilted his head to the side, his next words draining the blood from Ashton's face. “Jeff White isn't your only friend in town, is he?”

“My mom said they never should've let Ashton Keller come back here. It's like letting a registered sex offender teach biology.” Yolanda and Ona paused less than a foot away from where Willow stood at her locker.

Ona, ever the follower, chimed in. “I know, right? What if he loses it and kills one of us? They'll be sorry then.”

Yolanda turned and bumped into Willow, knocking her sideways. “Oh, sorry, Weepy. Didn't see you there.”

Willow's chest tightened and her heart shot out of the gate at a sprint. She sucked in air but didn't turn around as Ona added, “Yeah, looks like your
best friend
is headed back to the slammer.” With cackles of hysterical laughter, the two girls moved on.

Panic creeping in, Willow gripped the rough metal edge of her locker door. Yoko Ono's taunts were no worse than what she'd been hearing all morning. In the eyes of Gilt High, Ashton had been convicted without a shred of evidence against him. After some deep breathing, her pulse slowed and she yanked her lunch bag off the shelf.

She slammed the door and turned to see Brayden approach, his expression set with determination. “Come on.” He gestured for her to follow him.

“What?”

“You said it yourself in Bio earlier—they need to check the security cameras.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

Brayden held her gaze. “I know it doesn't help him with the robbery charges, but at least we can do this.”

She searched his cinnamon-brown eyes. Why would he want to help Ashton? Maybe it was his way to make amends and back up his apology with action. Willow nodded. “All right. Let's do it.”

“Hey, can I tag?” Lisa joined them, her blonde curls frizzing out of her ponytail.

“Sure, we're going to the office.”

“Whatever.” She sighed. “I just can't handle being in the cafeteria with the Yoko Ono twins. For some reason, they're more obnoxious than usual today.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Willow muttered as they all headed toward the stairs.

Following a brief argument with the school secretary, during which Brayden pulled the “my mom's the president of the PTO” card, they were ushered into Principal McNachtan's office. Willow took a seat in front of the desk and sucked the humid air into her lungs. Something about the plants hanging from the ceiling, sprouting out of pots, and climbing the filing cabinets and credenza lowered her blood pressure.

“What can I do for you, kids?”

Willow sat straighter. “We . . . um . . .” She exchanged a quick glance with Brayden, who nodded his encouragement. “I would like to know if you've checked the security footage in the senior hallway to see who vandalized Isaiah Kagawa's locker.”

The principal folded her hands on the top of the desk, her fingers encased in silver and emerald rings that wove around her fingers like vines. “And this is your concern, why?” Her dyed-crimson eyebrows arched into the fringe of her matching bangs.

“Because everyone in school thinks that Ashton Keller did it.” Willow's voice rose an octave. “Don't you think he's been villainized enough?”

Mrs. McNachtan narrowed her gaze to the front of her desk, where Willow clutched the edge with white-knuckled intensity.

Forcing her hands to relax, Willow sat back. Disrespect would get her exactly nowhere. “I'm sorry, Principal McNachtan. I just—”

Brayden spoke over her. “Willow has a very strong sense of justice, ma'am. She only wants to see whoever did this receive the punishment they deserve.”

The principal relaxed back into her chair and smiled at Brayden.

Who knew brownnosing could be a superpower? Willow glanced over at the boy beside her with new respect.

“As a matter of fact”—the principal addressed each of them as she spoke—“we've just reviewed the footage but were unable to make out any distinguishing details, so no one's been accused of anything. Mr. Keller . . . well, let's just say he's dealing with more serious issues right now.”

Which Willow could do nothing about. But this, at least, she could help him with. “Ma'am, would it be possible for us to watch the footage?”

“Yes.” Brayden gave a nod. “We might recognize details about the person that you wouldn't. Clues that could help you identify them.”

Lisa, who'd remained silent up to that point, chimed in. “I'm great with details!”

The principal seemed to consider their request. After a moment, she conceded. “All right then, but there will be no conclusions drawn from this, and what you see stays in this room.”

They each agreed as Mrs. McNachtan turned to her computer. “The time on the file shows that the vandalism happened late Friday evening.” A few moments later, she swiveled her monitor so that they could all see the screen. Lisa moved behind Willow and Brayden, hovering over their shoulders. The recording was dark and grainy, but Willow recognized the senior hallway by the room numbers and the huge homecoming poster taped on the wall. After a moment, a tall figure, hefting a duffel bag, slunk into the frame.

Leaning in, Willow focused on the person's head, but all she could make out was a black mass. Then she realized he was wearing a ski mask. Searching for other specifics, she watched as he dumped the balled-up flyers into the locker
and slammed the door. “Wait? How did he open the lock? Can you go back?”