Instinct (26 page)

He hesitates,
and I can see him trying to deny it, but finally he blows out a breath and
answers. “I don’t know.”

“What happened
with her?” I repeat, vitally interested in the truth, believing this might be
my best chance of getting it from him.

Jake’s stormy
blue eyes meet mine briefly before he looks down at the floor, misery
diminishing him somehow, shrinking him in my eyes.

“I was so
angry, all the time. I didn’t used to be this way. Dad always said I was
aggressive, but I had it under control. And then I just woke up one morning and
everything pissed me off, all the time. Miranda was flirting with this guy at a
party…she was wearing a skimpy bathing suit and he was ogling her…” he breaks
off, fury charging his eyes, tremors of rage rolling down his arms.

“Jake,
please,” I whisper, putting my hand on his arm. He stares down at it for a
moment and takes a deep breath, steadying himself.

“I lost it. I
shoved her, harder than I meant to. I apologized, but she wouldn’t hear it. She
said if I’d do it once, I’d do it again, and she wasn’t waiting around to be
beaten on.” His voice is almost incredulous, as though stunned that she
could’ve believed such a thing. Denial so strong it adds to his rage.

“She was with
Phillip and I knew something was wrong. She walked around like someone was
going to hit her all the time, but she wouldn’t talk to me. Nicole even told me
she was worried, thought I should try to talk to Miranda. But everything I
tried, she just shot down.”

He shakes his
head, remembering. I don’t dare interrupt, seeing that he is lost in the
memory, not really thinking of what he’s saying.  The halls are growing quieter
around us as students leave the cafeteria for their lockers and the next class.
It feels as though we are trapped in a glass bubble, held in stasis until the poison
in Jake’s mind can be released.

“Then she
called me. She said she needed to tell me something, needed my help. She asked
me to meet her on the walkway at the old train bridge that night. I came, but I
was angry. I felt like she was jerking me around, using me for something.”

He is quiet
for a moment, and I prompt him, needing to see this story to its end. “What
happened when you met her?”

Jake glances
up at me, swirling blue depths begging me for something, forgiveness or
absolution. “She wasn’t on the walkway. She was standing at the edge of the old
bridge, the one Dad had blocked off since it’s so uneven and there are no
supports. So I climbed the fence and came out with her. She just stood there
for a while, staring down at the water, like it was whispering to her.”

He rubs his
face and I can see the reluctance to continue, but he does, little knowing he
no longer has a choice.

“I asked her
what she wanted, and she asked me if I still loved her.” Jake’s eyes shine with
unshed tears before he blinks them away and shakes his head. “I told her she
was a slut and I was glad to be rid of her.”

I gasp and
recoil instinctively as he reaches out for me, his hands bracing on my arms.
“Why? Why did you say that?” I demand, disbelief racing through me even as I
feel the truth of his words.

“Because she
left me! Because she chose someone else and then let him turn her into this
frightened bunny. She didn’t want me, she just wanted something from me. So I
wanted to hurt her. But I didn’t touch her, I swear.”

Suddenly the
need to hurt Jake is more than I can bear, choking my air supply, burning
through my skin like acid. He has to know what she wanted to tell him. He
should carry that guilt, the way I carry mine.

“She was going
to tell you that Shockey raped her. She was going to tell you that Phillip
threatened to hurt Nicole, that he had been methodically tormenting her for weeks.
He held a damn gun to her head! She needed you, Jake! What did you ever do for
her? She was damaged, broken, and that’s what you said to her?”

Jake staggers
away from me, fresh horror wiping all other emotion from his face as my words
sink in. He shakes his head dumbly, staring at me, begging me to take it back,
but I just glare at him, feeling the weight of the injustice of Miranda’s last
moments press against my mind. 

“What did you
do, Jake? What did you do then, when she needed you most?” I hiss, my rage
rivaling his.

“I told her
she could jump off the bridge before I’d do a damn thing for her, and I left. I
left her there on the bridge. And she was dead in the morning,” he sobs,
dropping to his knees, wrapping his arms around my hips and burying his face in
my stomach. Deep, heaving rasps rack his body as I stare down at him in disgust.
Even if he didn’t push her off the bridge, he left her there to die. Either by
Phillip’s hand or her own.

Jake’s hands
are not clean of her death.

“Let me go,
Jake,” I say quietly, glad that the halls are empty and no one has come looking
for us. Out the doors I can see Cole striding towards us, obviously intent on
finding me. Thanks to the reflective glass, I know he can’t see the scene playing
out so close to him, and I am glad. I don’t know how he would react to seeing
Jake and me like this. It wouldn’t be pretty.

Jake doesn’t
respond, just keeps his face pressed against me, clutching my hips as a
drowning man clings to a rock. After a moment, my anger with him fades and all
I can feel is pity. He failed the one he loved. I can relate.

I place a hand
on his head and stroke his hair, the silky strands parting under my fingers.
Jake gives a deep sigh and his body stills, and I can feel him regaining
control.

The door
swings open and Cole sees us, his eyes going dark as his gaze settles on his
half-brother.

“He’s trying
to take you away from me,” he growls, marching forward, leaking fear like heavy
cologne.

“Cole,
please,” I beg, panic pushing through my mind with all the subtlety of a battering
ram. Instantly it disappears as Cole locks it down, pausing to take a calming
breath. Jake finally releases me and stands between us, all traces of grief
gone in a sudden blaze of anger.

“Get away from
her, Jake,” Cole warns, stepping toward him, fists clenched. Jake just tightens
his jaw and moves closer to me, clearly staking a claim.

Abruptly I am
too tired to deal with all the posturing, all the drama. I’ve been through
enough in the past couple weeks to last a lifetime and all I want is a pair of
strong arms to hold me, to take my burdens for a little while. “Take me home,
Cole.”

Both of them
look at me, almost as if they’ve forgotten I’m here, apart from being some
piece of meat they can tear between the two of them. Irritation sticks in my gut
and I pull away from Jake and start walking past Cole, aiming for his bike. If
he won’t take me home, I’ll drive the damn thing myself.

“I don’t
belong to either of you, so just drop it. For God’s sake, you barely know me,”
I toss back over my shoulder, pushing my way out into the chill winter air, the
breeze kissing my face cleanly. After a moment, the door opens again and Cole
runs to catch up with me.

“I’m sorry,
Derry. He has that effect on me.” I nod my acceptance of his apology and wait
patiently for him to start up the bike and hand me a helmet.

“Do you ever
drive a car? I mean, we’ve had six feet of snow in the past month and I’ve
never seen you in something with four wheels.”

Cole laughs
and squeezes my hands around his waist as he kicks the cycle into gear. “I’ll
get one if it’ll make you happy,” he promises and the rest of his words are
lost in the wind as the school disappears behind us and our speech is swallowed
by the road.

The sky
trembles on the edge of nightfall, clinging to the last vestiges of sunlight
disappearing over the mountains, shifting a purple-hued sunset into velvety
black. It reminds me of some evenings back home in Williamsburg where the dense
patches of forest would eat every trace of light until the darkness was tangible,
a primeval force that crouched just out of sight, ready to strike.

I huddle on
the stone steps outside the store, burrowing into the high collar of my coat
and staring down at the leather-bound journal in my gloved hands. Guilt squats
inside me, thick and disapproving, the taste acrid on my tongue. Somewhere in
the night Phillip is walking around free, smiling his shark’s smile, gloating
that one more day has passed since he murdered Nicole and no one can touch him.

I read through
Miranda’s diary again while tending the store this evening. Mom left me in
charge while she went on her long awaited date with Cole’s father. Nothing I
said could convince her to skip it. Even when I told her I wasn’t feeling well.
She just gave me a skeptical look and said I’d spent enough time in bed.

Cole stayed
with me for a while, but had to go to work eventually. Our conversation had
been stilted at best, downright uncomfortable at times.

“Why didn’t
you come like you promised?” I had finally asked, wanting to hear the truth
from him rather than his brother.

He sighed and
rubbed his face wearily. “My dad. The principal called him when he caught me
sneaking in and Dad commanded me to go home and stay there until he got back. I
had no choice.”

“Is it really
that absolute? There’s no way of fighting him off?” I had asked, dubious.

Cole just
shook his head sadly. “No. Not for me, not for Jake. It hurts when I try to
disobey him, like my blood is on fire, boiling inside me. It’s incapacitating.”
He grabbed my hands and gave me an earnest look. “I’m so sorry, Derry. It’s all
my fault. I should have been more careful coming in, but I was worried and
didn’t pay attention to my surroundings. I hate that I have to be grateful to
Jake, but I’m so glad he got there in time. I swear I tried,” he had pleaded,
sapphire eyes boring into mine.

“I
understand,” I told him, but part of me didn’t. Part of me still wonders if he
could’ve fought harder. I felt myself withdraw from him slightly in that
moment.

With the cold
front still gripping Harpers Ferry and the gorgeous snow from the week before
melted into soggy piles of grey and brown at the sides of the road, foot
traffic was meager and business was slower. I had plenty of time to read
Miranda’s self-deceiving words, the false picture she painted for herself while
pretending that her world wasn’t disintegrating in her hands. I thought it
might be less painful to read now that I would no longer see the truth behind
the words, but the image of a broken red-haired doll clutching a pen stuck in
my mind and I cried almost as much as I did the first time.

A frigid wind
blasts me and I give up, unlocking the shop and standing behind the door,
leaving the lights out, watching across the street for the moment Cole will get
off work and come to take me home. He promised tonight we would talk about how
to get evidence about Phillip to the police. Cole even swore if it came down to
it, he would plant something of Nicole’s in Phillip’s car, just so a warrant
could be issued.

I will do
anything at this point. Every moment Phillip walks free is an insult to Nicole
and a danger to me.

I lean my head
against the icy glass door and watch down the street as a car pulls alongside
the curb by the pizza parlor. Something about the way the left light flickers
is familiar and I freeze, my entire body on point.

The headlights
I saw on the access road the night Nicole died had that slight flicker.

As I watch,
breathless, Phillip emerges from the car, his blond hair picking up the faint
glow from the dim streetlamps overhead. His profile is in shadow, but I know
the way he moves. He glances up the street toward the store before he stuffs
his keys in his coat pocket and enters the restaurant.

Suddenly I am
sprinting down the street, jerking to a stop outside the pizza place to peer
inside. Phillip stands at the counter, talking to the cashier and pointing
overhead at the menu on the wall. My heart skitters and leaps in a manic pattern
as I back away, glancing about the street to see if anyone else is around.

The night is
silent and for once I feel like I’m in the right place at the right time. I
stalk over to his car and say a silent prayer, hoping that he didn’t bother to
lock it. I try the passenger door, but have no luck. In frustration, I squint
into the dark interior, looking for any way to open the car and catch my breath
as I see the rear door behind the driver’s side is unlocked, the button
extended past its mates. Tossing a cautious glance over my shoulder I walk
around to the other side of the car, hoping if anyone does happen to pass by,
nothing will look suspicious.

I stuff the
journal inside my coat and gently pry the door open, my pulse racing and making
my head spin. Adrenaline is pumping through me and for a moment I feel
invincible, powerful. I reach up and flick off the interior light so I won’t be
given away, and lean into the car, looking for the best place to stash the
journal where Phillip won’t notice it but will still count as in plain sight.
Once Phillip gets back in his car, I’ll call Detective Radcliffe and tell him I
noticed the journal Nicole had shown me the day she died in his car. That
should be enough to get them a search warrant, and I have to believe there is
some other evidence in this car that will link Phillip to Nicole’s death.

I decide to
put it under the back of the driver’s seat, sticking out onto the floor just
enough that I can claim to have seen it. Shame twists ugly fingers in my gut as
I really consider what I am about to do. Two months ago I would never have
imagined I would even think of planting evidence of a murder in a classmate’s
car, but in my fear I have become reckless in my quest for vengeance.

A sharp cry
startles me and I pull out of the car just in time to see Phillip racing toward
me, the café door slamming home behind him, light spilling out from the doorway
to illuminate the unadulterated rage etched on his face. I suck in a breath and
turn to run, but he leaps on me and knocks me to the ground, slapping my
forehead against the cobblestones.