They All Had A Grudge

A reason. A secret. A fear. A murder. (They All

Had A Reason. Book 6)

Michele Leathers

EMAR Publishing

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 Copyright © 2022 Michele Leathers

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living
or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or
by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written
permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9798363405181

Cover design by: Michele Leathers

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America

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 To Denise

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 Chapter 1
Kye

The noise inside Capital High’s cafeteria hovered near its typical dull
roar setting. A group of girls passed by my former friend, Layla, eyeballing
her and whispering to one another. They gave her an exaggeratedly wide
berth, like she had some horrible infectious plague that might leap onto
them if they got too close. I had my own reasons to hate Layla. Most
everyone else at school hated her indirectly -- because of what her brother
Lane had done.
Dottie and William sat across from me eating their lunches like it
was just any other normal day. To my left, where Paxton should have been,
there was an empty seat. Was this what moving on with our lives without
her was going to look like? Whatever this weird make-believe normalcy act
was, it didn't feel right. I was pretty sure that under the facade, both Dottie
and William felt the same as I did, but none of us knew what to do about it
or how we were supposed to act.
I slowly panned from left to right, taking in the entire cafeteria. A
sense of loss smothered every inch of this place like a dark haze. Everybody
felt it. Even the leafless trees peeking in through the windows seemed to be
in mourning.
My eyes shifted to Layla again. Her long blonde hair cascaded down
in front of her bony shoulders. Her sweater matched the same shade of
purple as her Michael Kors purse. A container of fat free yogurt and a can
of Diet Pepsi sat on the table in front of her, though she wasn't touching
either of them. Instead of eating she was reading a book.
I wondered if she was actually able to ignore all the judgmental
stares, snide remarks, and insults being hurled at her from literally every
direction, or if she was just too proud to let us see how much it bothered
her.
“Kye,” William said. “You're staring at her again. Do you realize
that?” His hand nudged my arm.
I wasn’t staring, I thought to myself. I was just noticing.
Dottie scowled in Layla’s general direction. She had never liked
Layla. Even when we used to all hang out together, on the best of days
Dottie merely tolerated Layla.
William ripped open a collection of ketchup packets, one after
another, carefully squeezing the contents of each onto a napkin. “Don't you
guys feel kinda bad about not hanging out with her anymore,” he asked, at
last dipping a french fry into his sizable ketchup mound. “Did we do the
right thing?”
Dottie almost choked on one of her grapes. “Are you serious? Of
course we did.”
I agreed. Layla deserved to be kicked out of our group, and I didn’t
feel the slightest bit guilty about that decision.
William ate a few more fries before subtly motioning in Layla’s
direction. “Look at her. She’s an absolute social pariah. She has zero
friends.” His dark eyes swung between Dottie and I. “Don’t you think we
should show her some mercy and invite her to come sit with us again? I
mean . . . hasn't she suffered enough?”
“Not even close," I said. "It doesn’t look to me like she’s even
started to suffer yet.” An entire team of makeup artists couldn't have done a
better job on Layla’s face. Her hair was styled perfectly too, like always. By
all appearances, she didn’t look bothered by anything in the slightest. Plus,
her uncle had just bought her a brand new car for her seventeen birthday. I
was seventeen too, a high school senior, and I still didn’t own my own car.
“Have you seen that shiny new white Toyota 4Runner in the parking
lot?” I asked.
"No," Dottie gasped.
“It’s hers.”
“Spoiled rich girl,” Dottie murmured as she picked up another grape
and started peeling it furiously.
“Come on, guys,” William said, frustrated. “She’s gotta be totally
depressed -- new car or not -- it doesn’t matter. The point is, she has
nobody. She’s totally by herself.”
Dottie’s expression hardened, her sharpest features becoming more
pronounced. She had the genetic misfortune of always looking like she was
in a bad mood, even when she wasn’t, so when something actually bothered
her, her face had an automatic head start.
"What?" William asked her.
“First of all . . ." Dottie made a habit of saying 'first of all,' even
when she had no intention of mentioning a ‘second of all.’ "If you wanna
become a social pariah, leave us out of it, because that's what'll happen to
all three of us if we befriend Layla again.”
William shook his head. “No, it won’t.”
It angered me that William felt any compassion for Layla. I thought
he was a stronger person than this. “Seriously, William. It’s like you’ve
forgotten everything that's happened,” I said. “How many times do Dottie
and I need to remind you? Layla is toxic.”
The corners of William’s mouth turned down, and the dimples in his
cheeks appeared. “Never mind,” he said, waving a hand in front of him as if
to surrender. “Forget I brought it up.”
"Forgotten," Dottie said, launching into some story about nothing
interesting.
The three of us sat there for the next while finishing our lunches,
talking about anything and everything, except for Layla. A few minutes
before lunch period ended, William grabbed his trash together and rattled
off some excuse to leave early.
I watched him go out of his way to the farther trash can before
turning toward the exit. Obviously this was so he'd have an excuse to walk
past Layla's table. She looked up at him with her big blue eyes and smiled
as he passed by. When he smiled back at her, I pounded my fist on the table.
“What?” Dottie looked up at me, startled.
“Did you see that?”
“See what? Where?” She turned, snapping her head in every
direction. Ringlets of red hair bounced around, some of it falling into her
eyes. She adjusted her headband to push her hair out of her face again.
“William and Layla just smiled at each other,” I huffed.
"Smiled? Like, smiled--smiled?"
"Yeah." I nodded.
Dottie groaned, wrinkling up her freckled nose. “William had better
not be talking to her again.”
“I think he is,” I said, frustrated. I knew it would be hard for
William to keep his distance from Layla. He used to be completely in love
with her, like a bad habit, and I worried that maybe he still was.
Dottie gritted her teeth, peeling another grape like she was
punishing it. “Layla is one of the worst human beings on the planet. Why
can’t William get that through his thick head?”
 She raised up, halfway between sitting and standing, glanced around
like she was looking for someone, then quickly cocked her arm back and
released a grape, throwing it across the cafeteria. It hit Layla right in the
face! She dropped her book, knocking over the can of Diet Pepsi, spilling it
all over the table. The incident had caused a small uproar around Layla's
table, complete with newly crafted taunts and jeers.
Dottie and I averted our eyes, trying to make ourselves look
innocent and uninvolved. Then I noticed the tell-tale bag of remaining
grapes lying out on the table in plain sight. “Put that away,” I whispered.
I was irritated. Dottie didn’t need to throw a grape at Layla’s face.
That was so uncalled for. Normally we just ignored Layla. We never did
anything intentionally to embarrass or hurt her. Ending our friendship and
disassociating ourselves with Layla was punishment enough.
Dottie hurriedly shoved the bag into her backpack, a sly smirk on
her lips. “Don’t tell William I did that.”
“I know. I won’t,” I grumbled. William would be furious if he found
out.
As the commotion in the cafeteria died down, my phone buzzed in
my pocket. I reached for it.
“Don't tell me that's her!" Dottie’s hazel eyes bulged. "Is that
Layla?”
I looked down at the screen. “No. It’s my dad.”
She sighed in relief.
I tapped the notification and opened the message: No need to cook
dinner tonight. I’m picking up pizza on my way home from work.
The mention of pizza triggered an old memory. Growing up, my dad
had been unemployed for several years. Taking us out to dinner or ordering
pizza were things he could never afford. He once said my mom got so fed
up with being broke that she left us, but that wasn't exactly true. I was ten
years old at the time -- old enough to understand what the problem really
was. It wasn't just that we were poor. My dad suffered from depression and
was an alcoholic.
After my mom left, his depression hit a new low. His drinking got
even worse. Our house went into foreclosure, so we had to move in with my
grandma, GiGi. Since my dad had pretty much checked out, both mentally
and emotionally, she stepped up and helped take care of me and my two
younger brothers.
 At some point, Layla found out that my dad was unemployed. She
came to me one day and told me that her uncle owned his own company
and she thought he might be able to find a job for my dad. It sounded a little
too amazing to be true, but sure enough, somehow Layla talked her uncle
into it. Even more remarkably, my dad accepted the offer.
A couple of weeks later, he had a real job for the first time in
forever. It wasn't anything fancy, but for him, it was like winning the lottery.
It transformed him. He straightened up and stopped wallowing in self-pity.
He stopped drinking, and got on medication for his depression.
When he received his first paycheck he told us he had a surprise. We
all piled into GiGi's car, and he took us out for pizza. We all had the best
time together that night. My father finally seemed happy and fulfilled for
the first time I could remember. Being able to afford to take us out to eat
was such a small thing, yet it was huge.
I recalled telling Layla about how my dad used to be. “You have no
idea how depressed he was,” I said. “Sometimes he wouldn’t even get out
of bed for days at a time. But since getting this job, it's like a new life for all
of us.”
“That's so great. I’m really glad you got your dad back,” Layla
smiled softly, "but remember, now you owe me."
I was truly grateful to her. I thought Layla was being genuinely kind
by asking her uncle to give my dad a job. I thought she was simply being a
good friend. I couldn't have been more naive. I had no idea what her
kindness would eventually cost me, but Layla did. In her twisted world,
money wasn't nearly as important as power, and once she had caused this
favor to happen for my father, she knew she would have power over me.
What kind of person does that?
Who plans in advance to entrap their friends in some elaborate plot?
It was such a foreign concept to me that at first I brushed off her
comments, but after the fourth or fifth time of hearing her remind me, I
realized she was being serious.
A day would come when I would be expected to pay her back, not
with money, not with friendship, not even with loyalty, but with a favor.
What I still hadn't wrapped my head around back then was that when the
time came to cash it in, it would be the kind of favor that no decent person
would ever ask of a friend. It would have nothing to do with friendship or
kindness. It would be the sort of favor that is demanded, not requested. It
would be unavoidable and inescapable. And when the day finally arrived, it
felt less like repayment of a debt, and more like satisfying a deal with the
devil.
I watched as Layla walked toward the cafeteria's exit with her head
up and shoulders back. The spilled Diet Pepsi had by now found its way to
the edge of the table, where it dripped to the floor forming a brown puddle.
It was so like Layla to completely ignore the wreckage and debris she left
behind, heading out to create havoc somewhere new, use up whatever or
whoever she found there, and discard them like a used tissue. Someone
would have to clean up her messes, but it would never be her.
Layla thought she had everything under control, including me,
Dottie and William. And in a way, she did . . . so long as all three of us kept
her secret.

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 Chapter 2
PJ (Bellany)

Just as I predicted, the white Toyota 4Runner pulled over to the side of
the road. I had seen it drive by this bus stop several days in a row, usually
around four o’clock, then again around five.
The driver’s side door swung open and a girl with a long blonde
ponytail and overly tanned skin appeared. I already knew who she was. I
knew a lot of things about her.
“Paxton!” she called to me, a panicked look on her face. She had
mistaken me for someone else. My name was Bellany, but I planned on
telling her my name was PJ.
A gust of wind blew my hair across my face. I pushed it back, then
removed my sunglasses. “Excuse me?” I replied as if I was confused. But I
knew why she had called me Paxton. I had purposely transformed myself
into Paxton’s doppelgänger.
Realizing her mistake, Layla took a step back. “I’m sorry. I thought
you were someone else.”
Layla continued to stand there staring at me in disbelief. I waited a
few beats then decided it was time for me to pull her out of her thoughts
and continue playing with her mind. “Are you okay?” I asked her.
She finally blinked. “Yeah. You just look so much like my friend.”
Her eyes turned glossy. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her
composure. “I’m sorry. I hate crying in front of people.” She ran a finger
under her eye.
“It’s okay if you cry. I don’t mind,” I said with a soft smile.
Actually, I hated it when people cried. It annoyed me.
Noisy cars kept driving by on the busy road as tears rolled down her
face. The West Virginia sky had a chill in the air. The sleeves of her sweater
were pushed up, and I could see goosebumps on her arms. “You look like
you could use a friend,” I said, as if I gave a crap about her feelings. Which
I didn’t. “Do you want to go somewhere and talk?”
Layla wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I don’t want to
burden you with my problems.”
 A gust of wind blew, and I tucked my hair behind my ear. “You’re
not going to burden me.” Nope, not at all. I wanted to hear everything -- all
of her secrets -- and then I planned on using them against her.
Layla’s eyes shifted to the road as another noisy car drove by.
“There’s a bakery just a couple blocks from here. They’ve got all kinds of
fall foods right now.” She wiped another tear away then gestured to her
4Runner. “I could drive us there.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said, switching my oversized purse to
my other shoulder. She was putty in my hands. This was way too easy.
Her face brightened. “They have the most delicious pumpkin
muffins. It’ll be my treat.”
The last thing I wanted was to consume a high calorie muffin, but I
smiled even wider anyway. “Say no more! Let’s go!”
“My name’s Layla, by the way.”
“I’m PJ,” I said, walking beside her.
She paused, turning to look at me. “What does PJ stand for?”
“Pamela Jane.”
I had stolen the real Pamela Jane Johnson’s driver’s license while
passing through Kentucky. An entire table of women had left their purses
behind when they got up to go to the salad bar. I ended up with two pairs of
Ray-Ban sunglasses, three designer purses, several credit cards, five
hundred dollars cash, and four drivers’ licenses. It was an easy and
profitable score.
I opened the door of the 4Runner, immediately drinking in that
intoxicating new car smell. Layla’s 4Runner was immaculate. There wasn’t
a speck of dust, crushed leaf, or scrap of trash anywhere. “I love your car,” I
said, looking around and admiring it.
“Thanks. My uncle just bought it for me.” Layla glanced over her
shoulder as she pulled out onto the road.
“Your uncle bought you this?” I asked as if I was confused as to
why her uncle would buy her such an expensive car. But I already knew
why. Her parents had died in a plane crash while on vacation years ago. She
and her brother had been living with their uncle ever since. Layla really
shouldn’t share so much about her personal life on social media, or accept
friend requests from complete strangers like me. My fake online profile
name was Steffy Smith.
 She switched on the turn signal to change lanes. “My uncle Gunner
is my legal guardian,” she explained.
“He must be rich,” I said, running my fingers along the leather seat,
as if I was impressed. She was such a spoiled brat. I had also learned that
from trolling her social media accounts.
“He owns a marketing company. Business seems to be going well
for him.” Layla took a left turn, pulling into the parking lot of the bakery.
She checked her makeup and reapplied some mascara before getting out of
the 4Runner.
I knew who she was primping for. I had already discovered that she
came to this bakery every day around dinner time. She didn’t just come here
for the pumpkin muffins. She came here to see William.
A blast of warm air welcomed me as I followed Layla into the
bakery. William was behind the counter. Brown curls poked out from under
his baseball cap. He was slightly stocky in build, but he didn’t look fat. He
was muscular and had well-formed pecs and biceps. When he looked up
and saw me standing next to Layla, he froze. He looked like he had seen a
ghost, which I found hilarious. I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling.
Photos of Paxton were all over the internet, making it easy for me to
duplicate her appearance. I dyed my hair black with purple streaks. I wore
ripped jeans, a shirt with small skulls printed all over it, and black Converse
tennis shoes. I also wore rings on almost every finger, dangly earrings, and
a choker necklace. The choker was to hide the scar on my neck where a
crazy lady had tried to slice me open with a knife. But she’s dead now. She
got what she deserved.
Layla gestured to me. “William, this is PJ.”
“Hi!” I said with a crooked smile, just like Paxton’s. I knew it was
like hers. I had practiced smiling this way over and over again, until it
became a habit.
William swallowed hard. “H-hey,” he stuttered.
“Did you get my text about coming over tomorrow tonight?” Layla
asked as she pulled out a credit card.
William hesitated, his dark eyes swinging between us. He cleared
his throat. “Um, tomorrow night . . . are Kye and Dottie coming too?” His
eyes shifted to me again. He couldn’t stop staring. Poor guy.
“I texted them but haven’t heard back yet.” Layla tapped her credit
card on the counter, looking him up and down. “It’s been a while since we
hung out together. I really hope you all can come.”
Another customer walked through the door, prompting William to
ask for our order.
“The usual for me,” Layla responded.
William’s eyes bulged when he heard me order the same thing
Paxton always used to get: a pumpkin muffin, warmed up in the microwave,
and a hot chocolate with half cold milk, half hot chocolate, a dash of
cinnamon, and whipped cream on top. So many calories.
When William handed me my hot chocolate, I made sure our fingers
touched. His dark eyes locked onto mine. “Are you going to be at Layla’s
house tomorrow night too?”
Instead of responding, I looked at Layla. I felt confident she would
invite me to join them, especially after being put on the spot.
“Do you want to come?” she asked me.
“Sure! That sounds fun!” I was going to ruin her life, and I couldn’t
wait to do it.
Layla turned her attention to William again. “So you are coming?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
Layla reached over the counter and hugged him. “I’m so happy!
Thank you for coming!”
William kept his eyes on me while they hugged.
After we sat down at a table, Layla leaned in close to my ear. “I
can’t believe he’s coming tomorrow,” she said, her voice low, yet full of
excitement.
I took a sip of hot chocolate while Layla pulled out her phone to text
someone. William was still staring at me, but I acted like I didn’t notice.
Things were going just as I had planned, and I couldn’t wait to meet
the rest of the crew.

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 Chapter 3
Kye

My phone chimed with a text from Layla. I paused the TV and handed
the remote to my little brother, Taylor. Taylor was eleven, and Tyson was
thirteen. They both had been waiting for their chance to watch TV ever
since they got home from school.
I headed to my bedroom, my mind swirling with questions about
Layla. What did she want? Why was she texting me? Should I read her
message? Should I delete it?
I sat on my bed, unsure what to do. With my phone in hand, I took a
deep breath and decided to open her text. I had to find out what she wanted.
An old photo of Paxton appeared on the screen. Why was she
sending me this? As I looked closer, I realized something was off. I zoomed
in. This girl wasn’t Paxton. This girl looked a lot like Paxton, except she
had fuller lips, a smaller nose, and higher cheekbones. Why was she dressed
like Paxton, I wondered. Why was her hair and makeup the same? Was this
some kind of joke?
I sent a text back to Layla: Who is this girl?
Layla replied: My new friend, PJ.
Her new friend? Had she taken this girl to get a makeover,
deliberately transforming her into Paxton’s twin? Why on earth would she
do such a thing? Had she lost her mind?
I sent a question mark in reply.
Layla responded: I’m having a get together at my house
tomorrow night and would love for you to meet her.
I couldn’t believe it. Layla wanted me to come over, after everything
she had done to me? She had definitely lost her mind.
I was about to decline her invite, but then another text came
through: William’s coming.
My phone almost fell out of my hands. What?
Another text came through: Bring Dottie. She’s invited too.
What was Layla up to? Why was she inviting us over, and who was
this PJ girl?
 Another text came through: Zoom in on the shirt PJ’s wearing in
the photo.
I zoomed in again, wondering why her shirt would be of any interest
to me. Then Layla sent another photo. It was a photo of Paxton wearing the
exact same shirt. My stomach dropped when I realized its significance.
Another text from Layla: PJ’s shirt looks exactly like the shirt
Paxton was wearing when she disappeared.
How did Layla know what Paxton was wearing when she
disappeared? She wasn’t around that night.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. I looked over the text messages
again to make sure I had read everything correctly. Then I zoomed in on the
picture of Paxton, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. How did Layla
get this picture?
I knew when and where it was taken. Paxton was standing on my
front porch with her pink jacket tied around her waist. Dottie, William, and
I were also in the picture. We were standing in the doorway. This photo
most definitely was taken the night Paxton disappeared. How did Layla get
it? She must have been spying on us!
I did not want to confront Layla about the photo over text messages.
It would be better to do it in person. So I decided not to say anything else
about it. Instead, I focused on PJ. PJ couldn’t have been wearing the exact
same shirt Paxton wore when she disappeared, right? Her shirt was
probably just the same brand and style.
I typed out a text: Where did PJ get the shirt from?
Layla replied: I don’t know.
I felt certain that PJ had not just shown up out of the blue looking
and dressing like Paxton on her own. Layla had to have put her up to this.
Layla probably scoured the internet looking for a shirt like this to buy so
that PJ could wear it. Layla was deliberately messing with me, trying to
rattle my nerves. And she was succeeding.
Another text from Layla: So are you coming?
I felt like I had no choice. I had to go and find out what she was up
to.
I sent a response: Yes. I’ll be there.
I crawled under the covers, my mind swirling with memories that I
didn’t like thinking about. Weeks ago, when Paxton first went missing, it
was huge news. Paxton was the kind of person who is instantly and
universally loved by everyone she meets, so her disappearance, and theories
about it, were all anyone could talk about.
Layla seemed to know right away that as soon as speculations
turned to foul play people would begin looking at her as a suspect. That
much was absolutely predictable. If any of Paxton's friends had been asked
who might have had a grudge against her, the first name on the list would
have been Layla's. The second name would have been her brother’s, Lane.
Not long after the news spread, Layla cornered me. “I don’t have an
alibi for that night,” she said, in tears.
“What do you mean, you don’t have an alibi?”
"I'm talking about this missing persons thing."
"You mean Paxton?" I said, a little indignantly. "Her name is
Paxton."
Layla stopped crying just long enough to roll her eyes at me. "Yes,
Paxton," she huffed. “People are starting to point fingers, and the thing is, I
was feeling so depressed and sad that night . . . missing my parents . . . and
my uncle was out of town on a business trip--"
"What are you saying?" I interrupted.
She managed to produce enough mucus and tears to give a half-way
convincing performance of trying to fight back heartfelt emotion. "I was
just feeling incredibly sad. So I got in my car and started driving south to
Florida.”
“What on Earth? Why were you driving to Florida?”
“I know it probably sounds ridiculous, but that was the one place
that I thought could cheer me up,” she explained. “When my parents were
still alive, they used to take me and my brother to Universal Studios all the
time. At least twice a year.”
“Twice a year?” I repeated in surprise. She had never mentioned
going to Universal Studios before, and neither did Lane. If I hadn't already
been suspicious of her, this alone would have been enough.
“But after driving for hours,” she continued, “I decided to turn
around and come back home."
"Let me get this straight. You were feeling sad, so you decided to
drive to Florida. Several hours later, you just suddenly decided to turn
around and come home? That must have been one intensely therapeutic
drive."
 She pretended to hyperventilate a little bit before speaking again,
wiping tears from her cheeks. “I thought it would help me feel better, but it
turned out it didn’t. So I decided to drive back home.”
“Well, did you stop to get gas somewhere? Did you stop to get food?
Did anyone see you?”
Layla shook her head. “I had a full tank of gas when I started
driving, and it was enough to get me back home.” More tears fell, only she
didn’t wipe them away. “I don’t have any proof that I was in my car.
Nobody can vouch for me, because I was by myself.”
A horrible feeling balled up in my gut. I knew something wasn’t
right about her story. She just happened to have a full tank of gas. She just
happened to be alone, without her brother, heading to an amusement park
that she used to go to with him. “Why didn’t you ask Lane to go?”
She let out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging. “He doesn’t like doing
things that remind him of our parents. It makes him too sad. And besides,
he was at home sick that night. He couldn’t have gone with me.”
“Well, you could have asked me to go with you, or Dottie, but you
didn't do that.”
“I didn’t think you guys would have enough money to go.”
She was right. We weren’t rich like she was.
Layla looked at me with pleading eyes. My stomach twisted into
knots. I knew what she was about to ask of me before the words even came
out.
“Can you cover for me, Kye? If anyone asks, just tell them that I
was hanging out with you that night.”
She wanted me to lie. She wanted me to provide her with an alibi,
but I couldn’t -- I wouldn’t! “That won’t work,” I insisted.
"But it will," she fired back. "I need you to do this for me. I have to
have an alibi. All you gotta do is say I was with you. It's so simple."
“Well guess what, Layla. I was hanging out with Dottie and William
the night Paxton disappeared, so no, it's not so simple. You're asking me for
something I can't give you."
"Where were you guys at?" she asked, without a beat of hesitation.
I stared at her like a deer caught in headlights.
Layla snapped her fingers -- a thing she often did when she became
impatient. "Where were the three of you hanging out?"
 "We met up at my house, and then we went camping at Kanawha
State Park.”
Layla lifted a shoulder. “I could say I went camping with you . . . all
three of you.”
“Have you forgotten that Dottie’s dad is a cop? She can’t lie to him
about this.”
Layla shot me a look. “Dottie lies to her dad all the time. And
William will do it, if you ask him. He always just goes along with what
everybody else wants to do.”
She was right about William. He probably would cover for Layla if I
asked him. And it was true what she said about Dottie, too. She did lie to
her dad all the time. But lying to police detectives was an entirely different
thing.
"We're doing this," Layla said, matter of factly.
“I can’t,” I said. “We'll all get caught, and I don’t want to get in
trouble! Why don’t you ask Lane to vouch for you. Tell the cops that you
were at home with him.”
She gritted her teeth. “Lane already told the cops that he was at
home alone! That won’t work!”
I shook my head, determined not to give in.
“Kye,” she said, with a calm firmness. “You need to get on board
with this. And I need you to convince Dottie to get on board too. Talk to
William while you’re all three together so there won’t be any confusion.
We'll need to keep our stories straight.”
I had already told her no and didn’t understand why she wasn't
listening to me. “Ask somebody else to cover for you. I’m not gonna do it.”
Layla’s demeanor changed. The light in her eyes dimmed. She got in
my face, and before she even started speaking, I felt a cold chill run down
my spine. “You'll do this, because you owe me." She leaned in to whisper in
my ear. "And if you don't, I’ll tell my uncle to fire your dad!” she hissed.
I couldn't believe what had just come out of Layla's mouth, yet I felt
the full weight of her threat. If my dad lost his job, I feared he would sink
back into a debilitating depression again, one he might never come out of.
He loved his job and had made so much progress. I couldn’t let Layla take
that away from him. It would destroy him. It would destroy my whole
family.
 “All it will take is one little conversation with my uncle,” she said.
“You do understand how this works, right? My uncle gave your dad a job he
wasn't even qualified for. Do you think he'll hesitate one second to kick him
to the curb if I give the word?"
I knew Layla would make good on her threat. There was no doubt in
my mind. My dad knew he didn't really deserve the job he'd been given. He
was learning on the job, but he didn't have the skills yet to go anywhere
else. "I thought you were my friend," I said.
Layla stepped back, then smiled at me. "Oh sweet innocent Kye. I
am your friend. Friends do favors for one another. I did one for you, and
now you're going to do one for me."
I felt sick. “So you're going to hold this over my head forever. You
think I'm going to be indebted to you for life over this?”
Layla considered my statement, then nodded slowly. “If you do this
for me, we’ll be even. Your debt will be paid, but only if you convince
Dottie and William to go along with it. Do we understand one another?"
I felt like I was selling my soul, but I had no other choice. I nodded
my head and agreed to do what she asked.
The rest of that day, I struggled through the intense emotions
brought on by betrayal and manipulation from someone I had believed was
my friend. I had given Layla access to private information about my family
that she used against me, forcing me to lie for her -- potentially to the
police. I couldn't help but doubt her story about driving to Florida, and had
to wonder why she was so desperate for this fake alibi. Worst of all, I
dreaded what was coming next.
There was nothing to do but explain the entire situation to Dottie
and William. I told them the truth about how Layla was threatening to get
my dad fired and how that would affect my family.
At first William and Dottie didn’t seem to understand why my dad
couldn’t just get another job. I had to go into detail about what my life was
like before, when my dad used alcohol to cope with his depression. “Me
and my brothers almost got put into foster care,” I explained. “People from
child protective services were visiting our home regularly.”
Dottie had sympathy for my situation. “I get it,” she said. “My dad’s
job means everything to him too. . . . Do you want to know the reason we
left Ohio and moved here to West Virginia? It was because his sergeant was
threatening to fire him. He accused my dad of a bunch of stuff that he didn’t
do, just because he didn’t like him. Fortunately, my dad was able to get a
job with the police force here in Charleston. Otherwise, I don’t know what
would’ve happened. Being a cop means the world to him. It’s his passion in
life. He would be lost without it.”
Since we were all sharing our family secrets, William decided to
open up and share his too. “Ten years ago, my dad suffered a head injury
while he was serving in the Army. He's never quite been himself since. The
smallest things set him off sometimes. Honestly, he can be scary to be
around. That’s why my parents got divorced. I chose to live with my dad,
mostly because I was worried about what he might do if someone wasn’t
there for him.”
William and Dottie didn’t have to join in the lie if they didn’t want
to, but thankfully they chose to do it anyway. They understood how fragile
my father was and didn’t want me or my family to suffer. We each agreed
that telling people Layla had gone camping with us that night was the right
decision, and we would stick to that story, together.
The three of us informed Layla that we would provide her with an
alibi. Then a few days later, Lane was arrested and charged with Paxton’s
murder, even though her body had never been found.
I refused to believe that Lane killed Paxton. Doing something like
that simply wasn't in him, but almost everybody else thought he was guilty.
The police had supposedly found evidence in the trunk of his BMW. I
wondered what it was. Nobody knew, except for the cops.
Ever since Lane got arrested, I also kept wondering what might have
happened to Layla if we hadn’t provided her with an alibi. Would she have
been charged with Paxton’s murder too? Would she have been considered
Lane’s accomplice?
As my thoughts returned to the present, I tapped the screen on my
phone and stared at the photo of Paxton standing on my front porch with
me, Dottie, and William in the doorway. This photo was taken before we
went camping. It was taken the night Paxton disappeared, which meant that
Layla wasn’t driving to Florida that night. She was spying on us. And she
finally decided that she wanted us to know. Why now? Was she going to
blackmail us?

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 4
PJ (Bellany)

The bakery had a steady flow of customers coming and going. Layla
was so busy texting, she had barely touched her pumpkin muffin. I had
already eaten half of mine, which was all I was going to eat. Too many
calories.
Sometimes I saw William out of the corner of my eye, hovering
closeby, but he never came over to our table. Was he too shy? Or maybe he
was too spooked. After all, I looked just like the girl who had been
murdered.
“Sorry,” Layla said, glancing up briefly from her phone. “I have to
invite Dottie and Kye to come over tomorrow since I haven’t done it yet.”
“So you lied to William when you told him you already invited
them,” I said, stating an obvious fact.
She put a finger to her lips. “Shh! I don’t want him to hear you.”
I couldn’t believe she just shushed me. The nerve of her.
Layla’s fingers continued to skate across the screen of her phone.
Rude. So rude. I took another sip of hot chocolate, wondering how much
more of this I was going to have to put up with.
A small smile emerged on her face as she set her phone down. I took
that as a sign that Kye and Dottie were coming tomorrow night.
Layla broke off a piece of pumpkin muffin and popped it into her
mouth. “So tell me about yourself.”
I had come here to talk about her. She was the one who was upset
earlier. But now she was acting like a completely different person, no longer
troubled or sad. Was she bipolar or something? Did she have a split
personality disorder? Or was she just a manipulative snob? “What do you
want to know?” I asked her.
“Do you live here in Charleston?”
It was time to tell her a bunch of lies about myself. “No. I’m from
Texas.” Actually, I was from North Carolina.
“So did you come to West Virginia for a vacation?” She popped
another piece of pumpkin muffin into her mouth.
 “No, not really. I just felt drawn to this place for some reason.” I
looked over my shoulder as another customer entered the bakery.
Truthfully, I came here for a very specific reason. I came here to steal
money from Layla’s brother.
“Are you here alone?”
“Yeah,” I lied.
She picked up her hot chocolate and took a sip, then checked her
phone to see if she had any new messages. I assumed she was waiting for
someone to text her back. “How long are you planning on staying?” she
asked.
“I have no idea how long I’ll stay. I guess until I feel like I should
go somewhere else.” If things worked out as well as I hoped they would
with Layla’s brother, Lane, I could potentially stay here for a long time. It
all depended on him.
“Did you drive here?”
“No. I hitchhiked.”
Her mouth gaped open. “Wow. That was brave of you.”
“Hitchhiking isn’t really that scary. I do it all the time.” I had
hitchhiked to West Virginia, out of sheer necessity. The minivan I was
driving had broken down on the side of the freeway, and I was stranded, so
I didn’t have any other choice.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.” Pamela Johnson’s driver’s license said that she was
nineteen, which was convenient since I had just turned nineteen last month
in October. My twin brother, Bridger, had also turned nineteen. The last
time we spent our birthdays together was the night that I faked my death;
the night that my life changed forever.
Layla continued asking me questions. I made up a story about how
my mom had died last year and how I had been hitchhiking around the
country ever since, living off of what little money she had saved up in her
bank account.
She sat there listening to me, her chin propped on her fist, hanging
on my every word.
“How long do you think you’ll stay in Charleston?” she asked for the
second time, pushing her hot chocolate aside.
“I’m not sure.”
 Her attention shifted to William as he walked past our table. “You
have to stay at least until tomorrow night,” she whispered. “You promised
you would, remember?”
I hadn’t promised this little snob anything. I picked up my hot
chocolate and took a sip. “Do you have any suggestions on a cheap hotel?”
Layla’s eyes lit up. “You don’t need to stay at a hotel. You can stay at
my house! My uncle won’t care. Stay as long as you’d like.”
As long as I’d like? I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from
grinning. Layla never should have said that. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!”
I wasn’t clueless. I knew why she wanted me to stay at her uncle’s
house with her. I was just a pawn; a way to entice her friends to give her a
second chance. But little did she know, she was my pawn too.
Throughout the course of our conversation, Layla kept getting
distracted by her phone.
“Who are you texting?” I finally asked.
“Nobody,” she said, then she quickly typed something on her phone.
She turned it around to show me a picture of Paxton. “You look just like
this girl.”
I had already seen this photo of Paxton. It was on her Instagram
account. But I acted like I was seeing it for the first time. “Yeah.” I
wrinkled my nose. “I guess I do look like her. Who is that?”
“Paxton.”
I pointed at the photo. “Oh, right. You thought I was her.”
Layla nodded. “You two look so much alike.”
Tell me something I don’t know, I thought to myself. “Can I see that
again?” I asked, holding out my hand, and she gave me her phone.
She sighed, a sad look on her face. “Paxton was murdered.”
“Murdered? What happened to her?” I already knew what happened.
I had read all of the news articles. I had seen all the social media posts.
“It’s still kind of a mystery.” Layla took back her phone and
darkened the screen. “The cops haven’t been able to locate her body, yet
they believe they have enough evidence to prove that she was killed.”
“Do they know who did it?”
“They charged someone, but I think he’s innocent.” Her eyes drifted
to the windows. “The real killer is still out there somewhere.”
 Interesting. She purposely chose not to tell me that her own brother
had been charged with Paxton’s murder.
We sat there in silence, while I plastered a worried look on my face,
staring off as though I was still processing all of this shocking information,
as if this was the first time I had heard it.
“PJ,” she said, running a finger along the lid of her hot chocolate.
Her eyes settled on my shirt. “Not only do you look like Paxton, but you’re
dressed like her too. She had a shirt just like the one you’re wearing.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear her say this, but I pretended like I was.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.” She cocked her head. “Where did you get it from?”
“A thrift store in town. I just got it the other day,” I lied.
Layla continued to stare at my shirt. “Some anonymous person
emailed me a picture of Paxton wearing a shirt like that. Their message said
that the photo was taken the night Paxton disappeared.”
I knew about the photo already. I was the one who emailed it to her.
I reached for the crystal pendant hanging from my necklace. “Now I know
why I was drawn here, and why I’ve been dressing like this,” I said with a
distant look in my eyes.
Layla swallowed hard. “Why?”
I continued to finger the crystal. “Everything makes sense now.”
“What makes sense?” She leaned forward, eyes crinkled in the
corners. “What led you here?”
I stared deeply into her eyes. “I think Paxton’s spirit led me here.”
Layla’s hand covered her mouth, a look of shock on her face. “Are
you . . . a psychic medium?”
“Yes.” I knew that Layla was into this whole psychic medium thing.
She posted about horoscopes and psychic readings all the time on social
media. That’s what gave me the idea.
“It’s a gift I inherited from my mother,” I lied, fingering the crystal
again. “Sometimes I take on the personality traits of spirits who want me to
help them communicate with the living. That must be why I was drawn
here, why I bought this shirt, and why I colored my hair this way.”
Layla leaned in. “What do you think Paxton wants to
communicate?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s like you said; the cops must have charged
the wrong person with her murder.”
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 5
PJ (Bellany)

During our drive to her uncle’s house, Layla asked if I had any luggage
to pick up. I lied and told her that I didn’t. All I had was my oversized purse
with a few pieces of clothing inside, and of course some makeup. She was
shocked that I had packed so light.
In truth, I did have more clothes and things back in my hotel room.
But I was never going to tell her that.
We arrived at the house, and I followed her through the grand
double door entrance. The view through the windows grabbed my attention
immediately. The State Capital of West Virginia was framed perfectly in the
window. It almost didn’t look real. My eyes shifted, and I saw the Kanawha
River below. It separated the house from the Capitol.
We walked past the formal dining room, which had a large table
with seating for ten, and then headed down the hallway. I hovered in the
entrance to the living room, observing Lane from afar.
He was sitting on the leather sectional, staring down at the screen of
his laptop. A six pack of beers sat on the coffee table in front of him. Only
one had been consumed, as evidenced by the crushed can lying on the floor.
There was an ankle monitor on his right ankle. Layla had failed to
mention that he was on house arrest. But I already knew this. I had done my
research.
Lane’s clothes were wrinkled and full of stains. His hair was a mess,
and whiskers had grown haphazardly on his face. He looked like he hadn’t
showered in weeks, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He probably
hadn’t slept much either.
In all of the pictures I had seen of him online, he had been clean
shaven, his appearance very neat -- almost to a fault. But today he looked
like he was homeless and living on the streets.
When Lane realized he wasn’t alone anymore, a strange expression
crossed his face. He sat forward and stared at me. I smiled, a friendly smile
-- not too big. He blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, then blinked again.
Despite his haggard appearance, he was still handsome. Seeing Lane
was like looking at the view of the Capitol through the window. Stunning.
 The smile widened on my face as I took note of the difference in
color between the whiskers on his chin and the hair on top of his head. His
beard was red, and his hair was sandy blond. I liked it.
Layla stood next to a table, shuffling through a stack of mail. “Did I
get any packages delivered today?”
Lane snapped his laptop shut, his eyes on me. “Is this some kind of
joke?”
Layla put down the mail and spun around. “No, this isn’t a joke,”
she replied, her voice cautious and measured. She shifted uncomfortably on
her feet. “Lane, I texted you. I told you she looked like Paxton.”
He crossed the room, heading straight toward her, fists clenched at
his sides. “I don’t know what you’re up to,” he growled, his voice low, “but
you need to stop this. Now!”
Layla held up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m not up to anything!”
She shook her head rapidly, ponytail flying. “I swear!”
Lane’s tall body towered over her. I couldn’t help but admire how toned
and lean he was. Dang, he looked good.
“I knew you were sick and twisted, Layla, but this . . .” he lifted a
hand to point at me and Layla flinched like she was afraid he might hit her,
“. . . this is insane! Did you dress her up like this on purpose?”
Lane’s reaction only clarified what a great job I had done at
replicating Paxton’s appearance.
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Layla said, defensively. “PJ
already looked like that when I met her. I had nothing to do with it!”
Lane turned around, glaring at me. “You need to leave!”
I wasn’t leaving. I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Did you not hear me?” he asked, his voice booming. “Get out of here!”
He pointed to the door.
Layla wasn’t going to let him throw me out. She wanted to use me to
win back her friends. She needed me. Plus, I was a psychic. I was like a
goddess to her.
“Stop it!” Layla shouted, tears filling her eyes. “PJ and I are friends.
She can stay here as long as she likes.”
“Your friend?” Lane repeated in disbelief. “You just met her!”
I lifted my hand. “Um, do you mind if I say something. I don’t mean to
interrupt, but I just want you to know that Layla had nothing to do with how
I look.” I reached for a lock of my hair and twisted it around my finger.
“Honestly, I never thought that I’d add purple to my hair, but I just felt like
doing something different.”
The rate of Lane’s breathing slowed slightly. It seemed like he was
starting to calm down. He folded his arms, leaning back against the leather
sectional. “So you’re not playing some kind of practical joke on me? You’re
not trying to mess with my head?”
“No,” I insisted. “I would never do something like that. Ever. That’s not
the kind of person I am.” The lies came flying out of my mouth so easily.
They just rolled right off my tongue. I was the type of person who would
mess with him. That’s exactly what I was doing. “I truly am sorry that I
upset you. That was not my intention.”
The crease between Lane’s eyebrows disappeared as he considered
my words.
I had already predicted that Lane might possibly freak out when he
saw me, but that was a risk I was willing to take. I figured that he would
eventually warm up to me, and we would become close -- boyfriend and
girlfriend close. After all, I looked like his dead girlfriend.
Layla motioned for me to come toward her, so I did. “PJ is different
from most people,” she explained. “She has a special gift. She is a psychic
medium, and she has a connection with Paxton’s spirit.”
Her timing was terrible! She should have never brought that up right
now. Lane was just starting to de-escalate, and now she ruined it.
The crease appeared between his eyebrows again, and I sighed,
waiting for him to blow up.
A few beats passed. Nothing was said. Then Lane face-palmed, the
smacking sound echoing through the room. His reaction surprised me. I
thought he’d get angry again.
“What?” Layla asked, defensively. “You don’t think she has psychic
abilities?”
Lane exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes. “You’re both crazy.”
Wrong. Layla was the crazy one. Not me. I didn’t believe in
psychics. I only pretended to be one.
“How dare you say that!” Layla’s face started turning red. She was
getting way too worked up and forgetting to breathe. “Psychics are real!”
she shrieked. “I don’t know why you don’t believe in them.”
Lane sat back down on the leather sectional and opened up his
laptop. “I don’t believe in Santa Claus either. Or the Easter Bunny!”
 Layla stomped her foot. “Those things have nothing to do with
being a psychic!”
My patience was running thin. I was getting sick of listening to them
argue. I didn’t want to have to be the annoying voice of reason, but this had
to stop.
“What about the tooth fairy?” Lane asked. “Do you believe in that
too?”
Layla saddled a hand on her hip. “You can be such an insensitive
jerk sometimes!”
Lane pushed his laptop aside, about to get up. “I’m insensitive?
Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?” He pointed at the mirror hanging
above the fireplace. “Go look at it. Look at yourself so you can see the
hypocrite staring back at you.”
It was time to intervene. “Would you both just stop!” I snapped.
They stared at me with shocked looks on their faces.
“I’m sorry,” I said, taking a deep, calming breath. “But you two
have done nothing but argue since I got here. I blame myself for part of it.
But the rest of this,” I said, shaking my head. “This isn’t necessary. Having
different opinions and beliefs is normal. It doesn’t mean that one person is
crazy and the other isn’t. Or that one person is right and the other is wrong.”
I shifted my eyes to Lane. His feet were propped up on the coffee
table. It was time to state the obvious. “I see you’re wearing an ankle
monitor, so I assume you’re on house arrest. . . . I can’t even imagine what
that must be like and how hard it must be for you. You have every right to
be angry, but don’t take it out on your family.”
Silence. Several seconds went by, and nobody talked.
Lane lifted his leg. The bottom of his foot was filthy. “Do you know
why I have this ankle monitor on?”
I did, but I wasn’t going to admit it. “No.” I sat down on the
opposite side of the sectional, waiting for him to explain.
He chuckled devoid of humor. “If you knew why I had this on, you
probably would never have come here.”
“Lane, please,” Layla interrupted, shooting him a look. “Stop trying
to scare her.”
I wasn’t scared.
“I need to go speak to Uncle Gunner,” she said, changing the
subject. “Where is he at?”
 “He’s out back by the fire pit with Amy.” Lane arched an eyebrow.
“You better warn him about PJ’s resemblance to Paxton before he meets
her. You don’t want him to have a heart attack.”
“I know -- I will,” she said, heading to the back door.
Lane picked up a can of beer, took a drink, then wiped his mouth
with the back of his hand. Lane wasn’t old enough to drink alcohol. He was
only eighteen.
The door slammed, and I was finally alone with him, which was
exactly what I wanted. I didn’t care that he hadn’t showered, shaved, or
combed his hair. I didn’t care that he acted like an angry jerk, because
whenever I looked at him, all I could see were dollar signs.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 6
PJ (Bellany)

I sat on the leather sectional watching Lane drink his can of beer. He
didn’t offer me one, which was fine. I wouldn’t have accepted it anyway.
Layla was still out back talking to her uncle, and I had no idea how
much more time I was going to have alone with Lane.
He crushed the can in his hand, then tossed it onto the floor. “Are
you afraid of me?”
I shook my head. “No. Of course not.” Besides, I had a gun and a
switchblade in my purse, and I knew how to use them.
“The cops think I killed Paxton,” he said, narrowing one eye at me.
“Layla probably should have told you that before she brought you here.”
“I agree. She should have told me.” I fingered the crystal pendant on
my necklace.
He grabbed another can of beer and popped it open. “I think
psychics are scammers.”
“I assure you, I’m not trying to scam anyone,” I lied.
“What kind of a psychic are you? Do you predict the future? Do you
read tarot cards?” He held out his hand, fingers splayed, like he was holding
an imaginary object. “Do you have a crystal ball?”
“I’m a psychic medium, and I communicate with dead people. I
don’t need a crystal ball to do it, or cards. Spirits just come to me. I’ve had
the gift ever since I can remember.”
“Oh really?” he said in a sarcastic tone, a smirk on his face.
“When I was younger, people thought my imaginary friends weren’t
real. But luckily my mother knew what was really going on. She also had
the gift. She knew that I was talking to spirits.”
“Yeah, okay,” he chuckled. Then he gestured toward an open space
in the room. “So are there ghosts speaking to you now?”
I looked around. “No, not right now.”
“How convenient.” He took another drink of beer, then looked me
up and down. “Before my sister comes back in here, I need to warn you
about something. She really is crazy. I’m not just saying that to be mean.
She’s like a hodgepodge of every kind of crazy. She’s been diagnosed with
schizophrenia. She also has some kind of personality disorder. But the one
diagnosis you should be most concerned about, is what her therapist called,
intermittent explosive disorder.”
He lifted a finger off his beer, pointing at me. “She can be violent.
She’s dangerous. If you ever make her mad, you better sleep with one eye
open. Or make sure you have a good lock on the door like I do.”
I had no idea if Lane was telling me the truth, or if he was just being
a jerk, only time would tell. But I did suspect that something was mentally
off about Layla. Her emotions swung like a pendulum.
The back door slammed and Layla reappeared. “Sorry that took so
long,” she said, rushing into the living room. “Come on.” She motioned for
me to follow her upstairs. “Let’s go. Hurry.”
I grabbed my purse and headed for the stairs.
“Have fun telling ghost stories,” Lane said.
I planned on it.

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 Chapter 7
PJ (Bellany)

I matched Layla’s quick pace and didn’t ask her why she was in such a
rush, not until we were inside her bedroom and the door was shut. “Is
something wrong?”
She exhaled, rolling her eyes. “I wanted to avoid my uncle’s
girlfriend, Amy. She’s so annoying. I don’t know why my uncle even likes
her.”
Layla pulled up a picture of Amy on her phone and showed it to me.
Amy had long black hair and was probably in her mid-forties. The deep
wrinkles on her upper lip made it look like she had a mustache.
Then Layla pointed at the man standing next to Amy in the picture.
“This is my uncle Gunner.” He was fat and bald. The two of them made a
good pair. They were both equally ugly.
“And another thing. . . .” Layla tossed her phone onto the bed.
“Before my uncle comes up here, we have to get our stories straight.”
“Okay?” I replied, confused.
A knock came to the door, making her jump.
“Layla,” A deep voice called from the other side.
“How did he get up here so fast?” she said under her breath, then
grabbed me by my shoulders. “I don’t have time to explain,” she whispered.
“Just go with whatever I say, understand?”
I nodded, wondering what she was up to. Was she going to tell him
that I was psychic? Was she going to ask me to read his palm or predict his
future? Did she want me to tell him the winning lottery numbers?
“Can I come in?” the voice called again as the door began to open.
Her uncle’s fat body filled the entire door frame. The man had no
waist. Suspenders held up his pants. “Hello,” he said to me with a friendly
smile. “I understand that you just moved to Charleston. So how are you
liking the great state of West Virginia so far?”
“It’s beautiful. I love all of the trees,” I replied, cheerfully.
“Yes, it is lovely, especially in the fall.” He smiled again but didn’t
show any teeth. “Layla tells me that your parents are going to be gone for a
few months?”
 My parents?
“Yep.” Layla nodded, her legs swinging as she sat on the bed. “PJ’s
parents are gone on a church mission to Africa. They’re such wonderful
people, always giving service to others.”
Gunner’s beady eyes stared at me from behind his thick glasses.
“Why didn’t you go with them, my dear?”
Good question, I thought to myself. Was Layla going to answer, or
was she expecting me to? A few beats of silence passed, and I realized she
was leaving this up to me. The lie popped into my head instantly. My
explanation was probably better than the one she could have come up with
anyway.
“My passport got lost when we moved here, and there wasn’t
enough time to get a replacement.”
He clicked his tongue. “How unfortunate.”
“What’s unfortunate?” a high-pitched voice called from the
hallway.
Gunner moved forward, allowing space for Amy to slip through the
doorway. She looked better in person than she did in her photo. But she was
still far from beautiful. Gunner explained to her how my passport had been
lost.
“Oh, my! That is unfortunate.” Amy gave me an appraising look.
“So I heard you don’t have a place to stay. Is that correct?”
“Their house is in the process of being built,” Layla said. “That’s
why she needs to stay here.”
A strange look crossed Amy’s face. “I’m surprised your parents
would leave you without a place to stay.”
Layla’s feet stopped swinging. Her jaw clenched. “Their house was
supposed to have been ready by now. It’s not her parent’s fault. It’s the
builder’s fault.”
“Well, bless your heart,” Amy said, condescendingly. She hooked
her arm through Gunner’s. “Come on, honey. You need to go sit down and
relax some more. You know what the doctor said about your blood
pressure.”
“Just a minute.” He unhooked his arm and took a step toward Layla.
“PJ can stay, but only if you both adhere to my rules.”
She nodded. “We’ll be good. I promise.”
He held up a fat finger. “What's rule number one in this house?”
 “No drinking alcohol,” Layla replied, instantly.
Gunner gestured toward the door. “Who brought the beer for Lane?
Did you two have anything to do with it?”
“Of course not!” Layla gasped. “Smell my breath. I haven’t had any
beer. I’m totally sober, and so is PJ.”
I hated being treated like a child. Living under the same roof as
Gunner was going to be difficult.
His suspicious eyes bounced between the two of us. “Then where
did he get it from?”
Amy gasped. “Obviously from them.” She gestured toward me and
Layla. “The beer didn’t just appear out of thin air. It’s not like Lane can go
to the store and buy it, not with that ankle monitor on.”
What an ugly woman, inside and out. No wonder Layla wanted to
avoid her. She better not get in my way or cause me any trouble.
“Oh my gosh, Amy!” Layla’s hands became animated, her voice
screeching, piercing my ears. “I have no idea where he got it from!” Layla
yelled at the top of her lungs. “Maybe he got it from Sam, next door!
Maybe he had a delivery service bring it here! Maybe he had the gardener
bring it to him earlier today! Maybe he had it stashed away in his bedroom
from a long time ago . . . .” Layla continued to scream and yell.
Gunner and Amy didn’t seem shocked by Layla’s behavior. It was
like they were numb to it, which told me that this kind of thing probably
happened all the time.
Layla’s tantrum finally came to an end, her energy fizzling out. She
flopped back down onto the bed, her face beet red. She was out of breath.
Gunner swallowed hard and gave a single head nod. “You’re
probably right, Layla. It was probably Sam who gave Lane the beer. I’ll
have a talk with him.”
That was totally the wrong response. If Layla ever blew up at me
like that, I’d knock her out. She’d be lying on the floor unconscious.
Amy hooked her arm around Gunner’s, gently pulling him toward
the door. “We should go,” she said in a low voice.
As soon as they left, Layla hopped back up from the bed. She
slammed the door shut and locked it. “I’m so sick of being accused of
things I didn’t do!” She grabbed her phone, fingers tapping the screen.
I sat there playing solitaire on my phone, waiting until she finished
texting whoever she was texting.
 Several minutes later, she set her phone down on the nightstand, her
attention on me again. “That was quick thinking.”
I lowered my phone, confused. “What was quick thinking?”
“The lost passport story. That was genius.”
I shot her a disapproving look. “Layla, I don’t like lying to people.”
Truthfully, lying came so naturally to me, it didn’t even phase me. But I
wanted Layla to think that I was more virtuous than her. I wanted her to
believe that I was more mature. After all, I was supposed to be a psychic.
She let out a breath, frowning. “I’m sorry. But you don’t know what
my uncle’s like. If I told him the truth about you, then he wouldn't have let
you stay.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t going to be a problem if I stayed here,”
I reminded her. Layla seemed to have a problem telling people the truth. I
knew I wouldn’t be able to believe anything she told me or trust her.
“I meant that it wasn’t going to be a problem, after I lied to him.”
She began untying her shoelaces. “You see, I know how to manipulate my
uncle. I’ve been doing it for years. I know what resonates with him and
what doesn’t.” She lifted a shoulder. “Every once in a while I have to blow
up at him, like I did about the beer, just to keep him in his place. If I don’t,
then he’ll think he can boss me around all the time.”
Layla was a sociopath. Plain and simple. Lane was wrong, and so
was her therapist.
She tossed her shoes into the closet. Her room was a mess. Folded
clothes were piled up on top of the dressers. Dirty clothes were scattered
everywhere. The trash can was overflowing. Something in here smelled
rotten, and I had no idea where it was coming from.
Layla opened up a drawer and accidentally knocked over a
compound bow that was propped up against the wall.
“Is that yours?” I asked, pointing at it.
She picked up the compound bow and moved it out of her way.
“Yeah. William taught me. He’s a really good shot.”
“Are you any good?”
“I’m okay. But I’m not as good as William or my brother.” She
picked up an arrow from off the floor, then tossed it into the corner, next to
the compound bow.
I walked around her bedroom looking at dozens of photos taped to
the walls. There wasn’t a single photo of her dead parents. I hadn’t seen any
downstairs either.
I stood in front of a photo of Layla and William. They were kissing.
“Do you still like him?”
“No.” She unhooked the bracelet from her wrist and set it down on
the nightstand, then took off her earrings.
I pointed at another photo. This one was of her, Dottie, and Kye.
They were all wearing formals. I assumed the photo was taken at last year’s
prom. “Who are these girls?” I asked, pretending like I had never seen them
before, even though I had spent a lot of time monitoring their social media
accounts.
“The girl in the blue dress is Dottie. Kye is the one in the red dress,”
she said, picking up a hairbrush.
I stood in front of another picture of Layla and Paxton in their
bathing suits.
“That’s Paxton,” she said as she brushed her hair.
I pointed at another picture of Paxton. She was sitting next to Lane
on the couch, and they were holding hands. “They looked like they were
happy together.”
Layla stopped brushing her hair.
“But the cops still think he killed her,” I asked, “even though they
were happy?”
Layla’s eyes suddenly shifted, meeting mine. “He told you?”
I nodded. “Do you think he’s innocent?”
She stared at me a few beats, no emotion on her face. “My brother is
not a murderer.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about him before you brought me here?”
“I thought you wouldn’t want to come,” she admitted. “I thought
you wouldn’t want to be my friend either.” Her eyes scanned the pictures on
the walls. “I don’t have any friends anymore. Everybody at school avoids
me.”
“You can understand why though, right?” I asked.
A deep crease appeared between her eyebrows, and her mouth
gaped open.
“I’m not trying to be rude or insensitive,” I said. Actually, I was
trying to be rude. That was my exact intention. “People are quick to judge
others. That’s just a fact of life.”
 “But why can’t people treat me with kindness and respect? Why do I
have to suffer for something my brother did?”
Was that a Freudian slip? I arched an eyebrow. “I thought you said
he didn’t do it.”
“He didn’t!” she quickly amended. “I was just--I said the wrong
words.”
I wasn’t going to badger her over whether Lane was guilty or not.
That would be a fruitless effort. I knew she wouldn’t be honest with me.
“Well, as I said . . . people like to judge. They’re quick to point the finger of
shame and scorn at anyone, as long as it’s not themselves.”
“I know,” she sighed heavily.
I leaned back against the dresser, watching her as she fiddled with
her phone again. But our conversation wasn’t over. There was something
else I needed to talk to her about.
“Layla.” I waited until she gave me eye contact. “In the future, I’d
appreciate it if you were honest with me. Whenever you leave pieces of
important information out and don’t tell me the whole story. That makes me
question whether I can trust you.”
Layla’s mouth gaped open again. She really shouldn’t do that. Her
mouth was way too big for her face. “Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“Just promise me, from here on out, that you’ll be honest with me.”
I had zero confidence that she would keep this kind of promise.
“Of course. I promise.”
Her phone chimed with a text, ripping her attention from me. She
read it, then typed a response. Once she was finished, she set her phone
down on the nightstand. “Um, PJ. . . . There is something else I need to
confess. . . . I told people that you’re a senior in high school and that you’re
homeschooled.”
I crossed my arms. “Who did you tell that to?”
“My uncle, Amy, Dottie, William, and Kye.” She flashed me an
apologetic smile. “I just didn’t want them to be intimidated by you. Because
you look so much like Paxton and you’re so pretty. I know Dottie and Kye
will be jealous.”
There she goes, I thought to myself, trying to manipulate me again.
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” I knew there was
more. There had to be.
 “I don’t know. . . .” She bit her lip, brows knitted together. “I guess I
should just tell you some stuff about myself. She picked up an unmarked
pill bottle from off the nightstand. “I’ve been suffering from depression
ever since Lane got arrested. So I take medication for it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She blew out a heavy breath and pushed her hair out of her face.
I reached for the crystal pendant. It was a cheap piece of jewelry
that I had found in a thrift store. It meant nothing to me, just like Layla. I
couldn’t have cared less about her. She was only a means to an end, and I
planned on getting rid of her as soon as I tricked Lane into falling in love
with me.
Layla’s eyes landed on the compound bow. “I’m really worried
about Lane. There’s gotta be a way I can prove he’s innocent.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
She pulled one of the pictures of her friends off the wall and held it
in her hands. “The reason why I want Dottie, William, and Kye to come
over tomorrow night, is because I think they’re the ones who killed Paxton.
. . . Together, they’re strong and united.” She tore the picture in half. “But
separately, they’re weak. All I have to do is convince one of them to tell me
the truth.” She continued to tear up the picture into tiny pieces, a devious
look on her face.
I wondered if she was going to destroy the rest of the pictures that
they were in, but she didn’t. She left them hanging on the wall.
“Do you have any proof that they killed Paxton?” I asked. “Or do
you just have a strong suspicion?”
Layla showed me the photo on her phone again of Paxton, Kye,
Dottie, and William; the one I had emailed her anonymously. “This proves
that they were with Paxton the night she disappeared.”
I examined the photo more closely. I was glad that I had sent it to
Layla and that she was so fixated on it. “I’ll do anything I can to help. I
want to prove that Lane is innocent too.”

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 Chapter 8
PJ (Bellany)

The room was mostly dark except for the light coming from Layla’s
phone. She was lying in her bed scrolling through TikTok, with the volume
up. Which meant that I couldn’t fall asleep. I was lying on an air mattress
just a few feet away from her.
She started laughing, then held out her phone. “This is so hilarious!
You’ve gotta watch this.”
It was a video of a dog stealing a girl’s sandwich. I hated dogs. I
chuckled, pretending to be amused. But the video wasn’t a total waste of
my time. It was the perfect segue to mess with Layla. “I like that girl’s red
hair. I think I’ll dye my hair that color too.”
“Don’t do that!” Layla gasped. “You should leave your hair just as it
is. It looks really pretty on you.”
Layla only wanted me to keep my hair this way, because it was like
Paxton’s. I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. “But everybody thinks
of Paxton when they see me.”
She sat up. “If you go red, you’ll still look like Paxton. Her hair
used to be red.”
I already knew that. I had seen old photos of her on Instagram. “No
wonder that color appealed to me,” I said, fingering the crystal pendant. “I
feel like she’s so close to me. I don’t even know what thoughts are mine and
what thoughts are hers sometimes.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “I never wanted to have red hair before, not until Paxton’s
spirit made contact with me.”
Layla flung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Can you ask her a
question? Can you ask her what happened the night she was killed? Do you
think she’ll answer you?”
Layla made pretending to be a psychic so easy. But I couldn’t give
her the answers that she wanted. If I did, then she wouldn’t need me
anymore. “I wish it worked that way, Layla. I really do. But I mostly just
get bits and pieces of information from spirits. And it’s not always easy
figuring out how the clues fit together. It's a lot like putting together a
complex puzzle without a picture on it.”
“Well, do you have any clues that come to your mind right now?”
she asked, eagerly. “Maybe I can help piece them together.”
“No, nothing right now.” I fluffed my pillow then pulled the blanket
over my shoulder.
Layla continued to sit there. “Let me know if you get any clues,
okay?”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
She grabbed her water bottle off the nightstand and drank the rest of
it. “I’m kind of thirsty. Are you thirsty?” She stood up.
“Yeah.” I pushed the blanket off and followed her out of her
bedroom, hoping we’d find Lane still awake downstairs. I ran my fingers
through my hair to make sure I looked presentable.

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 Chapter 9
PJ (Bellany)

Lucky for me, Lane was still awake. He was in the living room
watching a slasher movie that had a lot of blood and screaming. He was still
sitting in the same spot as before and was surrounded by a variety of
beverages: energy drinks, beers, and sodas. How did he get more beers, I
wondered. Hadn’t Gunner taken those away?
An open container of chocolate chip ice cream and a bag of Doritos
sat on the coffee table in front of him.
When he saw us, he paused the movie. “Hey,” he said, locking eyes
on me. “What does the P in PJ stand for?”
So he was thinking about me. That was a good sign. “Pamela.”
“Pamela,” he repeated, making a sour face. “That is an old lady's
name.”
Layla saddled her hand on her hip, shooting him a dirty look.
“Pamela is not an old lady's name.” She rolled her eyes, turning to me. “He
did not mean that. He’s just drunk and over-caffeinated.”
“I’m not drunk. Not yet.”
Layla gathered up the beers, cradling them in her arms. “I am not
going to get blamed for giving these to you again. I’m pouring them down
the sink!” She took off, heading down the hallway, but I stayed put.
Lane shrugged. “I have more stashed away. I’ll just get them after
she goes to bed.” He draped his arm over the back of the leather sectional,
motioning for me to come closer. When he realized there wasn’t a place for
me to sit, he moved some of the drinks out of the way.
I sat down next to him. “Is this what you do every night?”
“Yeah. It’s the perks of being on house arrest.” He picked up an
energy drink, offering it to me.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
He propped his feet up on the coffee table, then opened one for
himself. “So has my sister been talking to you about me?”
“No, not really.”
“Well, I want to talk to you about her.” He glanced back toward the
hallway, then motioned for me to scoot closer, and I did. “This is between
you and me,” he whispered. The stench of beer mixed with bad breath filled
my nose. Lane also had some seriously pungent body odor radiating off of
him. “I think Layla killed Paxton.”
I wasn’t sure if he was just trying to scare me, or if he really
believed that.
Lane took a gulp of his energy drink then placed a finger to his lips.
“Don’t tell her I said that. She’ll kill me.”
“Does she know that you suspect her?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? No. No way. She’s . . .” he burped, then
hiccuped, “. . . crazy. I can’t tell her I suspect her. Like I said, she’ll kill
me.”
“You think she would literally kill you?” I asked in disbelief.
“She already tried once.” He proceeded to show me a bunch of scars
that he had on his body. They were all identical in size, a couple inches
long. There was one on his arm, one on his stomach, one on his side, and
the last one was on the palm of his hand. “I was trying to grab the knife
away from Layla when she stabbed me here.” He turned his hand over.
“Luckily it didn’t go all the way through.”
I had no way of knowing how he really got all those scars. Maybe
they didn’t come from Layla. And if they did, maybe he deserved it. Or
maybe Layla was defending herself from him.
Lane placed his hand over his heart. “PJ, I don’t mean to scare you,
but I want you to understand something. The last girl who looked like you .
. .” he paused, raising an eyebrow, “. . . got her throat slit.” He ran his finger
across his neck like it was a knife.
Memories of a knife slicing my throat filled my mind, and
coincidentally, that’s when Lane noticed the scar on my neck. I wasn’t
wearing my choker to hide it. “What happened?” he asked.
He didn’t need to know about the crazy woman who tried to kill me.
He didn’t need to know anything about my past, so I lied. “This happened
when I was a toddler,” I said, touching my neck. “The strings from the
window blinds got wrapped around my neck and nearly choked me to
death.”
Lane continued to stare at my scar, then footsteps sounded in the
hallway. Layla brought back two bottles of water and handed me one.
“What were you two talking about?”
 I showed her the scar on my neck and told her the same story I had
just told Lane.
“So you had a near-death experience.” Layla’s eyes widened.
“Maybe that’s why you can communicate with spirits who’ve passed on.”
I had already told her that I inherited my psychic abilities from my
mother, and I didn’t feel like reminding her about that again. I figured it
didn’t matter anyway. She could believe whatever backstory she wanted to
believe -- I didn’t care -- as long as she believed that I was a psychic and
not a fraud.

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 Chapter 10
PJ (Bellany)

While Layla was gone at school the next day, I met up with my friend,
Victoria. She was my newly recruited partner in crime and had proven to be
quite helpful to have around. Victoria picked me up in front of the house. I
was only gone about an hour with her, then I slipped back inside the house
through the garage door. I had left it unlocked.
Since I hadn’t been given a tour of the house yet, I made sure to
check it out on my own. Lane was still in his bedroom asleep, so I couldn’t
go in there and snoop around. I couldn’t go into Gunner’s bedroom either. It
was locked. His office door was locked too, and I wondered why. Was it
because of me? Did he not trust me? Or did he not trust Layla and Lane?
Layla’s bedroom was a trash heap. I kept finding half-eaten protein
bars, empty bottles of SlimFast chocolate shakes, arrows, tarot cards,
crystals, and tennis balls. Apparently she played tennis, which was
something I didn’t know about her.
I did end up finding the source of the smell in her bedroom. It came
from under the bed. I had no idea what it was exactly, but it was some kind
of food stuck to a plate. There was mold growing on it. I chucked the plate
into the garbage can outside.
Then I hung out in the living room, playing solitaire on my phone. I
had already checked the social media accounts for Lane, Layla, and their
friends, just to keep up on what was new with them, which wasn’t much.
Lane finally came downstairs around noon. He was wearing a pair
of sunglasses and the exact same clothes as last night. He had a bad case of
bedhead and was moving slowly down the hallway toward the kitchen.
I wondered if he hadn’t noticed me sitting on the couch. Was that
why he didn’t say anything to me? I got up and followed, eager to have a
conversation with him, wondering if he would be open to a little flirting.
The first thing Lane did was swallow a couple aspirins. Then he
chugged down some orange juice.
“How’s the headache?” I asked, as I sat down at the counter.
Lane wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll live.” He tossed
the bottle of aspirin back into the cupboard. “So is my sister at school?”
 “Yes,” I said, swiveling back and forth in my chair.
“Be careful around her.” His voice sounded much more somber
today than it did last night. “Don’t let her talk you into doing anything
stupid. Because believe me, she will try. And she’ll go out of her way to
convince you that she has your best interest in mind. But she doesn’t. She
only cares about herself.”
Lane sounded like he was describing me. “Thanks for the advice.”
He took off his sunglasses, appraising me with his bloodshot eyes.
“So tell me the story about how you ended up here. How did you meet my
sister?”
I told him how she pulled over when I was waiting at the bus stop,
because she thought I was Paxton. Then I told him the same lies I told
Layla last night; how my mother had died, and how my psychic abilities
had drawn me here to Charleston. “I have a connection with Paxton for
some reason,” I said with a shrug. “I can’t control these things. They just
happen.”
Lane downed a Pepsi while he listened to the abbreviated version of my
life story. Then he grabbed a couple oranges from the fruit basket and sat
down at the counter next to me. He offered me one, but I declined. I had
already eaten breakfast and was planning on skipping lunch.
“So tell me something about you now,” I said.
The corners of his mouth drew down, his eyes dropping to the
counter. “Layla and I also lost our mom, so I know what that feels like. My
mom was on vacation with my stepfather, Larry, when their plane crashed
into the ocean.”
“I’m so sorry.”
His frown deepened. “I didn’t hear the news till later that night.
There were a bunch of people at my house for a party when my uncle
Gunner showed up to deliver the bad news.” Lane ran his fingers through
his hair, and I caught a whiff of his body odor. The stench was almost
unbearable. “I’m kind of glad my mom isn’t alive to witness what’s going
on right now. She’d be so devastated.”
“What about your stepfather, Larry?”
Lane let out a humorless laugh. “He would have let me rot in jail.
He wouldn’t have paid a dime in bail money. Larry always treated me like
garbage and never passed up a chance to tell me what a failure I was, or
how I wasn’t good enough to be his son.”
 “What a jerk,” I said, even though I wondered if Lane was just
exaggerating. Whose fault was it that their relationship was strained? Was it
Larry’s fault? Was it Lane’s? Was it his mother's?
Lane began peeling the orange. His fingernails were filthy and long.
When was the last time he washed his hands, I wondered.
“Larry was such a loser. I hope his death was long and painful,”
Lane said, tossing an orange peel onto the counter. He stuck his finger in his
mouth, sucking off the juice.
Disgusting. I got up and walked over to the fridge, grabbed a bottle
of water, then leaned against the counter, trying to focus on our
conversation again and not on his dirty fingernails. What were we talking
about, I thought to myself. Then I remembered. Lane was complaining
about his stepfather. “Do you think Larry would have hired you an
attorney?”
“Not in a million years. He’s such a cheapskate.”
“But your uncle hired you an attorney, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he get you a good one?”
Lane concentrated on peeling the orange. Juice squirted in the air as he
tore off another piece. “My uncle’s paying him a ton of money, so he better
be good.”
“Did your attorney give you any idea as to what your chances were
with a jury? Does he think they‘ll be sympathetic toward you?”
Lane shook his head. “I have no idea. He didn’t mention anything
about that. And anyway, I’ve already explained to my attorney that I’d have
be a stupid idiot to kill Paxton.”
The act of killing somebody didn’t make a person a stupid idiot.
They only became a stupid idiot if they get caught.
Lane started ripping apart his orange more vigorously, his
frustration building. “I just turned eighteen, and I’m supposed to have
access to my trust fund. But thanks to this murder charge, I can’t get any of
my money.”
My heart stopped, and the bottle of water almost slipped out of my
hand. I had no idea that Lane had lost access to his trust fund. The only
reason I came here was to get that money. He was no use to me without it!
Lane clamped his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. “Why would I kill
Paxton and ruin my chances of getting all that money? It makes no sense!”
 I screwed the lid back onto the water bottle as my thoughts shifted
to last night. Lane mentioned that he suspected Layla. “Then who killed
her? Do you really think Layla did it?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind. I just can’t prove it.” He stuffed a
piece of orange into his mouth, then spit out a seed onto the counter. “Layla
convinced her stupid friends to lie to the cops and provide her with an
alibi.”
Layla hadn’t mentioned anything about this to me. “Which friends?”
His brows cinched together, lips twisted in disgust. “William, Kye,
and Dottie. They were not with her that night. They all lied to the cops to
protect her.”
Layla convinced three people to lie for her? How did she manage to
do that, I wondered. “Did she bribe them?” I asked.
Lane spit out another seed. “Yeah, I think she promised them
money. She doesn’t have any right now, but if I get convicted, she’ll get
both her trust fund and my trust fund next year when she turns eighteen. It
will all go to her. She’ll have plenty of money to pay them.” He scooped up
the orange peels and tossed them into the trash can. Then he sat back down
and started peeling another orange.
“What was her motive to kill Paxton? She didn’t do it so that she
could frame you and take your trust fund. She already has her own trust
fund. She has plenty of money, right?” I really wanted him to tell me how
much money was in their trust funds. I had heard rumors that it was eight
figures.
“She did it to get revenge.” Lane stuffed half the orange into his
mouth.
“Revenge on who? You or Paxton?”
He stared at me, eyes wide. “Didn’t Layla tell you what happened?”
“No.”
“William cheated with Paxton, and my sister got crazy mad. She
totally lost her mind.”
“What did she do?”
Lane stuffed the other half of the orange into his mouth, then sucked
the juice off his finger. “She grabbed one of my switchblades out of my
bedroom, because it can fit into her pocket. I saw her take it, and I asked her
what she was going to do with it. She said that she was going to kill
someone with it. I swear that’s what she said. Then she stormed out of the
house.”
“You told the cops this?”
Lane shook his head, a frown on his face. “My lawyer advised me
not to. He didn’t want me to say anything to the cops. He said it wouldn’t
matter anyway, not after they found all that incriminating evidence in the
trunk of my car.” Lane tossed the orange peels and seeds into the trash can.
“What evidence did they find?”
He went over to the sink and began washing his hands, thank
goodness. “The most incriminating piece of evidence came from a phone,
which wasn’t mine. There were several pictures of Paxton’s dead body on
it. There was also a switchblade, which wasn’t mine either. I had never seen
it before. They said it had Paxton’s blood on it. There was some other stuff
too. . . .” his voice trailed off.
“So Layla killed Paxton, and then framed you so that she wouldn’t
get caught.”
He wiped his hands on a towel. “I don’t think she was deliberately
trying to frame me. I think she killed Paxton, and then was planning on
framing someone else, but never got the chance. The cops found it first.”
“Why your car? Why not hers?”
He let out a heavy breath. “I think she used my car to trick Paxton
into thinking that she was me.”
“And your lawyer doesn’t believe that this information is
important?” I asked, wondering if the man knew what he was doing. Maybe
Lane needed to hire a new lawyer.
Lane bit his lip, hesitating. “There’s more to it than that. My uncle
said that if I told the cops about Layla, he wouldn’t pay for my lawyer.” A
deep sadness entered his eyes. “My uncle is trying to protect her. He knows
that she doesn’t have a real alibi for that night. He knows she convinced her
friends to lie for her.” Lane tossed the towel onto the counter. “He’s already
given up hope with me and doesn’t want to lose her too.”
“You know what your sister told me?”
“What?” he said, rolling his eyes.
“She thinks Kye, William, and Dottie killed Paxton. She invited
them over tonight, because she thinks they framed you. She showed me a
picture of the three of them with Paxton. She said the picture proves that
they were with Paxton the night she disappeared.”
 Lane stroked his chin, eyes on the floor. “So all three of them are
coming tonight?”
“Yep.”
He nodded. “Good.”
“Do you still think Layla killed Paxton? Or do you think William,
Kye, and Dottie did it?”
Lane’s deep blue eyes flicked up, meeting mine. “I’ll believe
whatever I have to, as long as it keeps me out of jail.” He palmed his hair
back, taking a deep breath. “Somebody stole my car that night. If it wasn’t
Layla, then maybe it was one of those three, and they’re probably working
together.”

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 Chapter 11
PJ (Bellany)

Lane excused himself to go take a shower, which was a huge relief. I

almost told him that he better burn the clothes he’s wearing, because they
stink. But I held my tongue, since I didn’t know how he would react to
being teased.
I waited in the kitchen for several minutes before heading upstairs. I
figured this was a good time to snoop around and find out more about Lane.
There was a bathroom adjoined to his bedroom. I could hear the
shower running through the closed door. He needed to stay in that shower
for at least an hour to scrub away all that funk.
I opened up his laptop, but unfortunately I couldn’t access anything.
It was password protected. His phone was lying out in plain sight on his
bed. I checked that next. Still no luck. I needed a pin number.
As I walked around his bedroom, I looked over his collection of
weapons. There were two compound bows, dozens and dozens of arrows,
about ten switchblades, eight hunting knives, a couple throwing axes, and a
box full of throwing stars. I wondered if his uncle had already confiscated
any guns.
Dirty clothes were scattered all over the floor, just like in his sister’s
bedroom. All of the hangers in his closet were bare. His pile of shoes was
much smaller than Layla’s and consisted mostly of tennis shoes.
There were a couple posters on the wall of sports cars with girls in
bikinis. And a poster of Jason from the Friday the 13th movies.
The shower cut off, and I slipped out the door, heading down the
hallway toward Layla’s bedroom.
“PJ?” Lane called.
I turned around. He had a towel around his waist and another towel
draped over his shoulders. His hair was dripping wet, his face clean shaven.
He looked so much better. I bet he smelled better too.
“What were you doing in my bedroom?”
I couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. Was he mad?
Was he suspicious of me? I twisted a lock of my hair around my finger,
purposely acting more nervous than I actually was. “I’m so sorry. I was just
giving myself a tour of the house. Then I heard you coming out of the
bathroom, and. . . .” I hesitated.
“And what?”
“I didn’t want to accidentally see you naked,” I said, blushing.
His eyes flicked toward his bedroom. Then he wiped his face with
the towel draped over his shoulders, and I saw Paxton’s name tattooed on
his chest. I had no idea their relationship was so serious.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” I said, backing away. “I’m so sorry.” I
continued on down the hallway, hoping I put everything back exactly the
way Lane had left it.

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 Chapter 12
Kye

Layla sat at her usual table during lunch, by herself. William, Dottie,
and I tried to avoid looking in her direction, more than we normally did. We
didn’t want her to think that she could come sit with us, just because we
agreed to go over to her house tonight.
The three of us barely talked about Layla’s new friend, PJ. We were too
freaked out over the photo that she had texted me. We wondered what Layla
was planning on doing with it. Was she going to tell the cops that Paxton
was with us the night she disappeared? We wondered if Layla had been
spying on us that entire night, or if she was just there long enough to take
the photo.
After the bell rang, William headed to his class and Dottie and I
took the long route to biology, just to avoid possibly running into Layla.
We sat next to each other at the back of the class since we had a
substitute. Everybody was talking and moving around. Nobody was doing
their work.
I pulled out a deck of UNO cards from my backpack. As I started
shuffling the cards, I asked Dottie if she had told her dad where she was
going tonight.
“No way!” she replied. “My dad thinks Lane’s a killer. He would
never allow me to go anywhere near him. I told him I was going to stay the
night at your house.”
She should have confirmed that with me sooner. “Well, he better not
talk to my dad,” I said as I started dealing out cards. “Because my dad
knows that I’m going to Layla and Lane’s tonight.”
“What?” Dottie’s brows knit together. “Your dad’s gonna let you
go?”
She really shouldn’t have been so shocked. She knew the history
between my dad and Lane. My dad liked him. And not only that, but my
dad worked for their uncle.
Dottie still looked shocked. “Isn’t your dad worried about your
safety?”
 “My dad doesn’t think that Lane killed Paxton,” I said in a low voice, so
the people around us couldn’t hear. “He thinks he’s innocent.” I picked up
my cards and fanned them out, taking an inventory of what I had.
The noise level in the classroom was growing, and I wondered how
much longer the substitute would tolerate it.
“My dad thinks Lane is a monster,” Dottie said, rearranging the
cards in her hand.
“Your dad doesn’t know Lane as well as my dad does.” I set down a
card and waited for Dottie to set one down too. “Lane used to come over
and watch NASCAR with my dad. They talked about cars, racing and
drifting all the time. My dad even went to the track with Lane.”
Dottie drew a card from the pile. “Yeah, I remember you telling me
about that. Didn’t your dad say that he wished he could have Lane as a son-
in-law one day?”
“Yeah. He did.” I swallowed hard as the painful memories of Lane
rejecting me surfaced in my mind.
“Well . . . Lane’s never gonna get married now,” Dottie said,
studying the cards in her hand. “He’s gonna spend the rest of his life in
jail.”
My thoughts shifted to last year, before Lane started going out with
Paxton, and when I thought there was still a chance that he and I could get
together.
Layla had told me that Lane liked me, and then he asked me to go to
the prom with him, so I started to believe her. As prom night approached,
my hopes about my future with Lane continued to swell. I spent hours
getting ready and had been dieting for weeks so that I could fit into this
amazing dress that I had bought on sale. I already had shoes that matched,
and matching nail polish.
Everything started out great that night. Lane picked me up in his
BMW. He told me I looked beautiful. The dress fit me like a glove, really
flattering my figure. I was having a good hair day. My skin was clear. It was
as if the stars were aligned in the sky, or something was going on in the
universe that made everything go right. Until we arrived at the prom. That
was when I introduced Lane to the new girl, Paxton.
Paxton had just moved to the area, and there was no denying the fact
that she looked even more stunning than I did. Her dress was more
expensive than mine. Her hair and nails looked like they had been
professionally done. Plus Layla had taken a liking to Paxton and was
already claiming her as her new best friend. Layla was the one who insisted
that Lane dance with Paxton, since she was new at school and didn’t know
very many people.
Lane spent a good chunk of the night dancing with Paxton, while I
sat there and watched, feeling rejected. I had no idea that he would become
obsessed with Paxton and totally forget about me. I was so jealous and hurt.
Each time they danced together, I found myself wishing more and more that
something bad would happen to her, or that somehow she would just
disappear.
“Quiet down, class,” The substitute’s voice called, interrupting my
thoughts.
Dottie groaned when she saw me put down a draw four card. “I hate
this game,” she said, pulling the cards from the pile, one-by-one.
She only hated it, because I was better at it than her.
Dottie rearranged the cards in her hand again. “Do you think
William told his parents where he’s going tonight?”
“His mom would probably freak if she found out. But he lives with his
dad, so she really doesn’t have a say in the matter.”
Dottie set down a card on the pile. “That’s true. William’s lucky that
his dad doesn’t have any rules. He can stay out however late he wants. He
can come and go whenever he wants. I wish my dad was like that.”
“Willliam’s mother mostly cares about whether or not he shows up
to work at the bakery,” I said. “As long as he does that, then she doesn’t pry
too much into his personal life.” I set down a card and only had two left in
my hand.
Dottie set down a draw four card, which surprised me. “The game’s
not over yet,” she said with a sly grin.
“Quiet class!” the substitute called out again.
Dottie turned to look and accidentally lowered her hand. I pretty
much saw every card she had. Then she set down a yellow number two
card, and I promptly changed the color to green. She only had a couple
green cards.
“I wonder how William’s going to act around Lane tonight,” Dottie
said, staring at the cards in her hand.
William didn’t like Lane. He only pretended like he did. There had
always been a fierce competitiveness between them, and it manifested itself
whenever they raced against each other in their tricked out cars.
They used to get together on Saturday nights with a group of guys
from school to race. This wasn’t a typical race with a start line and a finish
line. This race also included drifting. They basically burned the rubber off
the tires of their cars while making sharp turns and leaving skid marks on
the asphalt. Big crowds, consisting mostly of people from school, used to
come to watch them race.
William always wanted to win. Problem was, Lane had a better car.
Lane had spent a lot of money adding upgrades and making modifications
to his BMW. William, on the other hand, didn’t have a lot of extra money to
pour into his ancient 280z. It didn’t matter how good of a driver William
was. His car never performed as well as Lane’s.
I set down another UNO card, knowing I was about to win this
game, which reminded me of the last time William raced his 280z.
“Remember when William won that drifting competition, and we took him
out for ice cream to celebrate?”
Dottie raised her eyebrows. “Of course I remember. It happened
soon after Paxton went missing. The only reason William won was because
Lane was a no show that night.”
I set down my last card, winning the game. Dottie dropped her hand
of cards and waited for me to shuffle them again.
A couple people wanted to play with us, but Dottie told them no.
The noise level in the classroom had risen again, but it seemed like the
substitute had given up on trying to quiet us down. She just sat at her desk
reading a book.
As I dealt out the cards again, I continued to think about the night
William won the drifting competition. The three of us were sitting at a
booth in the ice cream shop eating ice cream sundaes, when Dottie got a
text from her dad. Her eyes practically popped out of her head. “Guys!” she
gasped. “Lane’s BMW was seized by the police!”
We all exchanged looks, finally understanding why Lane hadn’t
shown up for the race.
Her phone buzzed with another text, and she sank down into her
seat. “They arrested Lane!”
My brain had barely registered her words when William asked, “Did
they find Paxton?”
 My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I waited for Dottie to
answer. Search parties had been sent out to look for her with no success. We
weren’t allowed to participate, because we were only seventeen. We had
relied on Dottie to give us inside information since her father was a cop.
William grabbed the phone out of Dottie’s hand to read the text
messages. “Text your dad and ask him if they found Paxton,” he said,
handing it back.
While Dottie texted her dad, I used my phone to search for the latest
breaking news. But I couldn’t find anything. The press hadn’t announced
Lane’s arrest yet.
Dottie’s phone buzzed with another text from her dad.
“Read it out loud,” William said, looking over her shoulder.
She began reading, “Paxton’s body has not been recovered. We hope
Lane will confess and tell us where it is.” Dottie lowered her phone. “That’s
all my dad wrote.”
The ice cream in my stomach churned, and I was starting to feel
nauseous.
“They think Paxton’s dead,” William said. “Ask your dad why. Why
do they think that?”
“I don’t know if he’ll tell me, but I’ll ask.” Dotties fingers skated
across the screen of her phone.
I pushed my ice cream sundae aside, taking deep breaths, trying to
calm down.
“Ask him why they think Lane killed her,” William said. “Ask him
what proof they have.”
We waited a solid five minutes for her dad to text her back, but he
didn’t provide us with any answers. He said he couldn’t divulge that kind of
information. He didn’t want to jeopardize the investigation.
I was dying to know what had happened. What proof did the cops
have that Lane killed Paxton? How could they charge him with murder
when her body was still missing? Those questions still lingered in my mind
today.
A wadded up piece of paper went flying across the classroom. Then
an idea popped into my head. “Dottie,” I said. “We should talk to Layla
about the picture before we go to her house tonight. We should do it right
after school. It’s better to do it without Lane around, don’t you think?”
 “I agree.” Dottie grabbed her phone. “I’ll text William and let him
know.”

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 Chapter 13
Kye

School had just gotten out. The parking lot was crowded with people
and vehicles scattering every direction. Layla was on her way to her brand
new 4Runner, her blonde ponytail swaying as she walked. Dottie, Kye, and
I were tailing her.
Just as she was about to climb into her 4Runner, I called out,
“Layla! Wait!”
She immediately turned around. When she spotted us, a nervous
look crossed her face. Then a smile emerged.
“We want to talk to you,” I said.
“About what?” she asked, still smiling.
Dottie crossed her arms, glaring at her. “We want to talk about
Paxton.”
Layla removed the backpack from her shoulder. “Sure! One
second,” she said as she placed it inside the 4Runner. “So do you want to
know what the police found out?”
Dottie, William, and I exchanged looks. Was she serious? Were we
really about to find out what the press didn’t know?
The noise from the passing vehicles and people became background
noise, just one big blur. My attention focused solely on Layla. Nothing else
around me mattered.
“What did the cops find out?” William asked her. “What did you
hear?”
Layla waited for a group of people to pass by, then motioned for us
to come closer. “I don’t want anyone else to hear this,” she said in a low
voice.
Knotts formed in my stomach. The anticipation was killing me. I
knew it was killing Dottie too. Her mouth was agape, her face frozen.
“What is it?” William asked, impatiently.
Layla waited as a few more people walked past us. “This isn’t
public knowledge, and I’m really not supposed to talk to anyone about it.
But I’ll tell you guys, if you promise to keep it between us.”
 “Who are we going to tell?” Dottie asked, head shaking rapidly,
curls flying. “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”
“I won’t tell anyone either,” William said.
Layla looked at me next. I nodded, my heart racing. “Like you said,
it stays between us.” I was just telling her what she wanted to hear.
“Okay,” she said with a heavy sigh, scanning the parking lot to
make sure our conversation was private. “The only reason I found this stuff
out was because my uncle told me. And he found out, because Lane’s
lawyer told him--”
“Told him what?” William interrupted.
“The detectives were trying to get Lane to confess to murdering
Paxton, which he didn’t do--of course.” Layla flicked her long blonde
ponytail, turning to look behind her as a couple people passed.
I stepped in even closer, leaning against the 4Runner.
“Anyway,” she continued, “the detectives said that they found
evidence in the trunk of Lane’s BMW. But that evidence had to have been
planted there. Lane would never have left stuff like that lying around for the
cops to find.” Layla paused as a car drove by with its windows rolled down.
“What did they find?” William snapped, irritated that she kept
starting and stopping her story.
I wished she would just get on with it and tell us what she knew.
What did the cops find in the trunk of Lane’s BMW?
“Some of this stuff might be hard to hear,” she said, wrinkling up
her nose. “It’s kind of gruesome.”
Gruesome? What did she mean by gruesome? I placed my hand
over my stomach, hoping I wouldn’t get sick.
Layla scanned the parking lot, the whites of her eyes turning red,
like she was about to cry. “I have no idea who killed Paxton, but what I do
know is that Lane didn’t do it.”
“We know! You said that already!” Dottie snapped.
Layla sighed, a frown on her face. “The cops found some of
Paxton’s blood and some of her hair,” she said, fighting back tears. I
believed the tears were fake. “They also found a bloody switchblade, a
phone with pictures of Paxton’s dead body on it, and some scraps of bloody
clothing. But obviously somebody planted that stuff there. I mean, why
would Lane purposely leave all of that in his car for the police to find? He’s
not stupid. And he’s not a killer,” her voice broke, and she buried her face
in her hands.
“Of course he didn’t kill her,” Dottie said, brows furrowed. “Lane
loved and adored Paxton. He would never have hurt her.”
“I don’t think Lane did it either,” I said. “Lane is one of the nicest
guys I know.” I couldn’t say the same for Layla. It was hard for me to
believe that they had the same mother.
Layla pulled a tissue from her pocket, wiping a tear away. She
blotted her eyes, careful not to mess up her makeup. “If the cops were doing
their job correctly, then they would still be looking for Paxton’s killer.”
“Excuse me?” Dottie tensed up, taking a step toward Layla. I
grabbed her arm, holding her back. Layla’s comment was a dig at Dottie's
father. She shouldn’t have said it.
Tears continued to fill Layla’s eyes. “Can you blame me for being
upset? My brother is innocent.”
“It’s not the cops’ fault!” Dottie snapped.
Layla dabbed her eyes again with a tissue. “I’m sorry.” She sniffed.
“I just feel like everything is so unfair. My brother’s life is ruined and
nobody seems to be concerned that there’s a killer on the loose. Whoever
killed Paxton is still out there somewhere!” Her eyes bounced between the
three of us. “It’s not safe. One of us could be next.”
One of us could be next? Her comment rocked me back on my
heels.

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 Chapter 14
Kye

While we stood there in the parking lot discussing the evidence against
Lane, none of us brought up the fact that we had each been questioned by
detectives, and we all told them the same story: The three of us, including
Layla, were camping at Kanawha State Forest. We all slept in the same tent.
Everyone was present and accounted for when we fell asleep, around one in
the morning. And we were all still present and accounted for when we woke
up around eight.
But that wasn’t exactly the truth. Layla wasn’t with us. So where
was she that night? She wasn’t driving to Florida, like she had claimed. She
was spying on us. That picture of Paxton proved it.
William’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Did the switchblade
have Lane’s fingerprints on it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Layla replied.
“Did they find any other weapons?” Dottie asked.
“Not that I know of.”
Tears filled my eyes as I thought about what had happened to Paxton
and the suffering she must have gone through. I took a couple deep breaths,
hoping to stop myself from crying.
Layla sniffed, dabbing her nose with a tissue. “The detectives kept
hounding Lane, asking him where Paxton’s body was,” she explained.
“They even offered to lessen his prison sentence if he would tell them
where it is.”
I waved my hand in front of my eyes, hoping to dry the tears. Don’t
cry, I told myself. Don’t cry. I was afraid if I started, I wouldn’t be able to
stop.
William held up his phone to show Layla the picture of Paxton she
had texted me. I had forwarded it to him. “Did you take this photo?” he
asked.
“No, I didn’t,” Layla replied. “Some anonymous person emailed it
to me. And they said that it was taken the night Paxton disappeared.” Her
eyes bounced between me, William, and Dottie. “Y’all never told me that
Paxton went camping with you that night. Why didn’t you tell me?”
 Her question rocked me back on my heels, and I immediately felt
defensive. “We didn’t tell you about seeing Paxton that night, because we
thought it wasn’t important.” I gestured to the picture on William’s phone.
“That picture was taken in front of my house, before we went camping.
Paxton had stopped by to tell us that she wasn’t going to come with us. She
said her phone was broken, so she delivered the message in person.”
“That’s right,” William agreed, lowering his phone and stuffing it
into his pocket. “That was the last time that we saw Paxton. When she
stopped by to tell us that she wasn’t coming camping with us.”
Layla flicked her ponytail off her shoulder. “Well, you still should
have shared that information with me. It would have been helpful, because
obviously somebody has been poking around in our business. Otherwise
there wouldn't be a picture.”
How dare she lecture us. She had no right to talk to us that way. We
had done her a huge favor by providing her with an alibi. She should be
grateful.
Dottie seemed irritated too. She was staring daggers at Layla, then
she got right in her face. “I have a question. Where was Lane that night?”
Why was Dottie asking that? Layla had already told us that Lane
was at home by himself.
Layla lifted her chin. She wasn’t intimidated by Dottie. “He was
feeling sick that night. He was at home in bed. By himself.”
Dottie planted her hands on her hips. “Are you sure he didn’t take
that picture? Maybe he’s the one who emailed it to you.”
Layla narrowed her eyes. “I asked him already. He said he didn’t do
it.”
Dottie tossed her hands up, walking away. “Whatever. I don’t
believe anything you say. You lie all the time.”
This conversation was going nowhere. I nudged William’s arm. “We
should get going.”
Layla’s eyes widened with panic. “Y’all are still coming over
tonight, right?”
“Yeah,” William replied.
The three of us stood there in silence, watching Layla drive out of
the parking lot. William was the first to speak. “Can you believe what they
found in the trunk of Lane’s BMW?”
 I wished he wouldn’t have brought that up. Tears pricked my eyes. I
couldn’t control my emotions any longer. I couldn’t stop the tears from
falling. After feeling numb for so long, the floodgate had finally been
opened. Sobs escaped from my throat.
William pulled Dottie and me into his arms. She was crying. I was
crying. And for the first time, William was crying too.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 15
PJ (Bellany)

After Layla got home from school, she and I went grocery shopping for
tonight. She stood in front of the display of chips and dips, hand on her hip.
“Which one should I get? Bean? Queso? Spinach?”
“I prefer spinach dip.”
“I agree. Good choice.” She set it inside the shopping cart.
“So how was school today?” I asked.
“It was . . . eventful. Dottie, Kye, and William hadn’t spoken one single
word to me all day, and then they cornered me in the parking lot after
school.”
“What did they want?” I asked as we stopped in front of a display of
fresh vegetables.
Layla struggled to open the plastic bag. “They wanted to know what
evidence the cops had against Lane, so I told them.” She finally got the bag
open and stuffed some broccoli inside it.
“What evidence do they have?” I asked, hoping she would give me
more details than Lane had.
Layla rattled off a list that included blood, hair, pieces of bloody
clothing, a switchblade, and a phone with pictures. She showed no emotion
when she spoke about those things. She acted like it didn’t bother her at all.
She pushed the shopping cart over to the bananas. “William and
them also wanted to know about the picture of Paxton.” She picked up a
bundle of bananas that were mostly green. “They didn’t believe me when I
told them it was sent by an anonymous person. They thought I took the
picture.”
“They’re probably scared. They know you’re onto them. They’re the
ones who are hiding something.”
“I know.” A devious expression crept over her face. “And I can’t
wait till they come over tonight. One of them will crack. I know they will.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 16
PJ (Bellany)

William, Kye and Dottie were set to arrive in about an hour. Layla and I
were upstairs in her bedroom getting ready, and she had just asked if I
would wear some of Paxton’s old clothes that she had in her closet.
“Please,” she said, holding the clothes out to me. “After tonight, you
can wear whatever you want. My clothes are your clothes--I promise.”
I shrugged, forcing a smile. “I don’t mind wearing Paxton’s old
clothes.” I picked up the pair of jeans and stepped into them. They were a
perfect fit. “Whatever I can do to help.”
Layla turned to the mirror and applied another layer of lip gloss. She
rubbed her lips together, then sprayed some perfume onto her neck. It
smelled like cinnamon and spice.
“Is there anything else you need me to do?” I asked, buttoning the
jeans.
“We’ve still got to get the food ready.”
That wasn't what I was asking. “I mean, is there anything else I can
do besides wear Paxton’s old clothes? Do you want me to act friendlier
toward a specific person, or should I just treat them all the same?”
Her eyes wrinkled in the corners as she considered my question. She
shook her head. “Just treat them all the same.”
A knock came to the door. “It’s me,” Gunner said.
“Come in,” Layla replied, spraying her hair.
The door swung open and her fat uncle filled the doorway. “I
noticed all the groceries in the kitchen.”
“I’m having some friends over tonight,” Layla replied.
“How many friends?” A crease appeared between his bushy
eyebrows.
Layla sighed. “Don’t worry. It’s not a party. Just a couple friends.”
Gunner’s eyes shifted to me, and I smiled.
“Well,” he said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his bare
hand. Gross. “I’m going out tonight with Amy, so I won’t be back till late.”
Layla clasped a diamond bracelet around her wrist. It looked
expensive, and I wondered how it would look on my wrist.
 He pointed a fat finger at Layla. “No alcohol. No drinking. I will not
be held responsible. . . .” He continued to lecture us about the dangers of
underage drinking, which made me wonder what kind of trouble Layla had
gotten herself into before.
“We’re not going to drink!” she snapped. “Quit lecturing me!”
Gunner nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay. I just wanted to make
sure.” He took a step back, placing his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you
later. Have fun tonight. But not too much fun.” The door closed behind him.
Layla took one last look in the mirror, applying more hair spray.
Then she squirted some perfume up in the air and walked through the mist.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go get the food ready.”
Downstairs in the kitchen, I began arranging slices of lunch meat on
a tray, per Layla’s instructions. She wanted it folded and spaced apart in a
certain way.
Layla began setting out the napkins, alternating the colors: peach and
cream. She was a perfectionist and a control freak. Yet her bedroom was a
dumpster fire.
Lane walked into the kitchen, and when he saw what we were
doing, his brow furrowed. “Why did you get all this food?”
Layla’s attention remained on the napkins. “Because William, Kye,
and Dottie are coming over tonight. You’re welcome to hang out with us
too.” She began laying out the forks and spoons on the table. “I invited
them over so that I can try to figure out how they killed Paxton.”
I wondered why she hadn’t told him about her plan sooner, but it
didn’t matter anyway. I had already explained the situation to him. He knew
they were coming.
“How are you going to get them to admit that they killed Paxton?”
he asked, leaning back against the counter, a doubtful look on his face.
“I don’t know,” Layla replied, flustered. “But the first step is to open
up dialogue.”
“They’re not going to tell you the truth.” Lane picked up a carrot
stick and swirled it around in the spinach dip.
“Yes they will.” Layla began slicing a lemon into wedges. “PJ’s
gonna help. She’s going to use her gift.”
What? I already told her that I hadn’t received any clues about
Paxton’s murder. Was she not listening to me? I forced a smile, pushing
aside my frustration. “You want me to do a psychic reading on them?”
 Layla lifted the knife off the cutting board, pointing it at me. “Yes.
That’s exactly what I want.” She went right back to slicing the lemon again,
the little witch.
Lane looked at us like we were both crazy. “Nobody’s going to fall
for that psychic stuff.”
Layla turned to face him, the knife still in her hand. “This isn’t a
scam. PJ is the real deal. She has a gift, and she’s gonna help us figure out
what happened that night and how they planted that evidence in the trunk of
your car.”
Lane’s eyes locked onto mine. “You sure you want to do this?”
I smiled. “Of course. Anything I can do to help.” But my help
wasn’t going to be for free. They were both going to pay for it. Big time.

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 Chapter 17
Kye

We were on our way to Layla’s house. William was driving his 280z,
and Dottie and I were squished together in the front passenger seat.
We had no idea what to expect tonight, seeing Lane after all this time,
and we were about to meet the mysterious PJ. Who was she, and what
purpose did she serve?
“William,” I said. “What was PJ like? You’re the only one who has
met her.”
“At first glance,” he said, “I thought she was Paxton. It freaked me
out so much. I thought she had returned from the dead. She even ordered
the same food as Paxton. She smiled like her too, with that crooked smile. It
was spooky.”
“Creepy,” Dottie shuttered.
“Do you think Layla put her up to this?” I asked. “Did she tell her what
to order, how to smile, and how to dress?”
He lifted his baseball cap and scratched his head, staring out at the road.
“I don’t know. Layla seemed almost as surprised as me.”
Dottie turned the heater up another notch. “Well, I think Layla paid this
girl to dye her hair and dress up like Paxton as a ploy to get us to come over
to her house. Layla wants things to be like they used to be. And I think she
wants to get back together with you, William.”
I sensed the underlying heartache coming from Dottie. She had been
trying so hard to get William to fall in love with her. But all of her efforts
had failed, yet she still wasn’t ready to give up.
William shifted into third gear, accelerating through the intersection
so quickly, I almost bumped my head against Dottie’s.
“This isn’t a race,” I chided him.
“Sorry,” he replied, and immediately slowed back down again.
Dottie turned the heater up, yet again. “Back to this PJ chick,” she
said. “What should we do about her?”
“What do you mean?” William asked, glancing at her.
I knew what Dottie meant. She wanted us to gang up on PJ and treat
her like the imposter that she was. Dottie had already explained this to me
before William picked us up.
“I bet her name isn't even really PJ,” Dottie said, adjusting how she
was sitting, trying to scoot over and give me more room. “That’s just a
name that Layla made up for her.”
When William turned down the road that Layla and Lane lived on, I
could feel my level of anxiety rise. I was starting to get nervous, mostly
about seeing Lane.
After he was arrested and then got out on bail, I asked his uncle for
his new phone number. Fortunately he gave it to me. Dottie and I texted
Lane multiple times, but he would only reply with one or two word
answers. Sometimes he wouldn’t reply at all. Whenever we called him, it
went straight to voicemail. He never called us back.
Dottie and I assumed he was probably just super depressed, which
was understandable. His life had been ruined. His hopes and dreams for the
future had been destroyed. Plus Paxton was gone, and he was probably
grieving over her loss. I wondered if he was ready to talk to us. I wondered
if he would ever get over his grief. Mostly, I wondered if he would end up
spending the rest of his life in prison.

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 Chapter 18
PJ (Bellany)

The doorbell rang and Layla took off to answer it, leaving Lane and I
alone in the kitchen.
“Is there anything you can tell me about Paxton?” I asked him.
“Anything that might help me channel her spirit and help me make a better
connection with her?”
He stared off for a few beats, thinking. “She liked to draw.”
I already knew this. I had seen her drawings on Instagram. “Did she
like to draw fairies and flowers?” I asked.
“How did you know that?”
“It just popped into my head.” I poured myself a glass of water,
acting casual. I wondered if he was starting to believe in my alleged psychic
abilities.
Layla walked into the kitchen with William, Kye, and Dottie. She
introduced them to me while Lane was making himself a ham sandwich. He
was totally ignoring them, acting like they weren’t even here. Then he
headed to the refrigerator. I wondered if he was searching for a beer.
Layla gestured to the food on the table. “I hope y’all are hungry.”
William adjusted his ball cap, eyeing the spread of food. “When am
I not hungry?” He grabbed some bread, slapped some mayonnaise on it, and
began building a sandwich.
Kye and Dottie turned their noses up at the food but helped
themselves to the Diet Pepsi. It surprised me that they weren’t going to eat.
They were slightly on the chubby side. The two of them together reminded
me of yin and yang. Kye carried her weight in her stomach. Dottie carried it
in her thighs. Kye’s clothes were white and Dottie’s were black.
After William walked away from the food table, I picked up a plate
and a couple pieces of bread. Kye quickly distanced herself from me, but
Dottie remained. “Why are you wearing Paxton’s old clothes?” she asked,
looking me up and down. “Did Layla give you those? Those aren’t hers to
give. She should give those clothes back to Paxton’s mother.”
I turned to see if Layla had heard her, but she was distracted, talking
to William. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to keep them,” I replied.
 Dottie’s upper lip curled in disgust. “Why would you want to wear a
dead girl’s clothes?”
“Well. . . .” I said, contemplatively as I placed a slice of tomato on
top of the bread. “I feel like I have a connection with Paxton. I feel like
she’s been trying to communicate with me, and I thought that maybe
wearing her clothes might help.”
“What are you talking about?” Dottie’s sour expression intensified.
I smiled softly, ignoring the daggers she was staring at me. “I think
Paxton and I are kindred spirits.” I scooped some dip onto my plate and
held the spoon out to her. “Do you want some?”
She shook her head and walked over to Kye, who had been
watching us from afar. I finished preparing my plate of food and headed
into the living room to join Lane, knowing the rest of the crew would
follow me. After all, I was the reason they were here.

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 Chapter 19
Kye

Lane didn’t appear to be depressed at all. He looked like his usual,

normal self; super hot and scrumptious. I waved to him and he smiled back
at me. But then, just as I was about to walk over and sit next to him, PJ
swooped in, taking my spot.
Why was she wearing Paxton’s old clothes? So weird. Was that
Layla’s idea?
Dottie and I sat next to each other on the other end of the sectional,
watching Lane and PJ. What was going on between them, I wondered. “Are
they together?” I whispered in Dottie’s ear.
“I sure hope not.” Dottie shot PJ a dirty look. “She must be some kind
of freak. Why would she wear a dead girl’s clothes? That’s so sick!” Dottie
wrinkled up her nose.
My eyes swung between the two couples in the room. Layla and
William seemed quite cozy again, sitting next to each other. PJ and Lane
also seemed to be getting way too close. I felt like I was experiencing déjà
vu. The only difference was Paxton had been replaced by PJ. Just like
before, Dottie and I were the odd people out. We didn’t have boyfriends to
sit next to. We didn’t have someone to keep secrets or share inside jokes
with. Dottie and I always felt awkward, like we didn’t belong.
I was determined to stop the past from repeating itself, one way or
another.

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 Chapter 20
PJ (Bellany)

Kye and Dottie’s conversation was private. They kept whispering to

each other and shooting dirty looks at me and Layla. It wasn’t our fault that
they were ugly and didn’t have boyfriends.
Then finally, Dottie sat forward, her eyes trained on me. She cleared
her throat. “Excuse me, PJ.”
“Yes?” I couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say. Was she going to
comment on my clothes again, this time loud enough for everybody to hear?
She began asking me a bunch of questions: Are you living here in
this house? Where are your parents? How old are you? Where are you
from?
I kept to the same storyline that Layla created for me: I was
homeschooled and the daughter of missionaries. I had already explained to
Lane that the lies weren’t my idea. Layla begged me to go along with the
false narrative she had created for me. Lane wasn’t surprised to hear this.
He let me know that he understood the predicament I was in. He knew that
Layla liked to stir up trouble and create drama.
Dottie pulled her phone from her pocket. I wondered what she was
going to ask me next. Or maybe she just wanted to take my picture. Was
that it?
“Hmm.” Her lips twisted. “Are you listed under a different name on
Instagram? Snapchat? What about TikTok?”
Kye started searching on her phone too. “Yeah, I can’t find you
either.”
“I’m not on social media,” I lied, dipping my carrot into spinach dip.
I actually did have social media accounts. Several of them. They were all
under fake names with pictures of complete strangers that I had found on
the internet. I used my fake accounts to spy on everyone in this room.
William chuckled. “You’re the first girl I’ve met who doesn’t have
an Instagram account full of selfies.”
Dottie rolled her eyes. “Homeschooled people are so weird.” She
uncrossed her legs, about to stand up. “It’s getting late. We should leave.
Come on, William.”
 Kye pulled the purse strap over her shoulder. “Yeah, we should
probably go.”
Layla’s eyes just about popped out of her head. “William, why don’t
you stay a little longer?”
He made a face. “I can’t. I’m their ride.” He set his plate down on
the coffee table.
“Wait!” Layla reached for his arm. “There’s something about PJ that
y’all haven’t heard yet. She’s a psychic!”
“Here we go,” Lane said under his breath, placing his feet up on the
coffee table.
I smiled. This was either going to go amazingly well, or things were
about to get out of hand real quick.
Layla gestured to me. “PJ is what you would call a psychic
medium.”
“Please,” Dottie scoffed, shooting Layla a dirty look. “You expect
me to believe that the daughter of missionaries is a psychic medium?”
It was time for me to step in and rescue Layla. This was my
opportunity to demonstrate to her that I was on her side. We were a team,
and she needed to trust me.
My smile grew wider. “I inherited the gift from my mother. It’s very
much in line with our religious beliefs. We believe that there is an afterlife.
People’s spirits live on after they die.”
Layla nodded. “And because PJ talks to the dead, she was able to
share things with me about my relationship with my mother that no one else
could have possibly known.” Layla’s eyes turned glossy, while I sat there in
shock. I never said anything like that. It surprised me that she would drag
her own dead mother into this.
“PJ truly has a gift,” Layla continued. “She could do psychic
readings for y’all too.”
Lane buried his face in his hands, mumbling to himself.
“So . . .” William said, adjusting his baseball cap. “What exactly is a
psychic reading?”
All eyes returned to me, then Lane touched my arm, leaning in close
to my ear. “PJ. You don’t have to do this,” he whispered.
I wanted to do this. It was important that Lane believed that I had
psychic abilities. He needed to learn to trust me, so that I could continue to
chip away at the emotional wall he had built up around himself.
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 Chapter 21
PJ (Bellany)

Layla set out three candles on the coffee table and began lighting them.
I appreciated the extra time this gave me. I was still trying to gather my
thoughts and figure out how to convince everybody that I knew their
deepest, darkest secrets and that spirits were speaking to me.
William picked up one of the candles and smelled it. “Cinnamon.
Mmm.”
Layla’s smile beamed as she sat down next to him again. She hadn’t
left much space. Her leg was almost touching his.
Dottie wrinkled up her nose. “I think those candles stink.”
“What are the candles for?” Kye asked, flicking her bangs out of her
eyes.
Layla rubbed her hands together with excitement. “They’re to help
PJ channel spirits.”
If only that was true.
“Oh my gosh,” Dottie started laughing. “This is a joke, right?”
Layla’s mouth gaped open. “This is not a joke! I would never joke
about something like this.”
Lane sunk down deeper into the sectional, arms folded across his chest.
When our eyes met, he flashed me a sympathetic smile. He didn’t think I
could pull this off. The doubt was written all over his face.
“Are you ready, PJ?” Layla asked me.
I nodded. “Yes.” Here goes nothing.
The room fell silent as I stared at the candles. I took a deep breath,
unsure how to begin. They were all expecting me to conjure up the dead,
specifically Paxton. I waited several seconds, trying to figure out what I
should say. But not even a minute of silence had gone by when Kye started
whispering to Dottie. She wasn’t talking loud enough for me to hear what
she was saying, but she was loud enough to be a distraction.
“Should I dim the lights?” Layla asked. I could see a sliver of doubt
creep into her smile.
“That’s not necessary,” I replied. “It would be helpful, though, if
everybody would be quiet so I can concentrate.” I shot a look at Kye, then I
tilted my head forward, staring down at the rug beneath my shoes. I
searched through my memories of all the videos I had seen of them on
social media. There were so many.
“Do me first,” Dottie said, interrupting my concentration, which I
figured she had done on purpose.
I pretended like it didn’t bother me. “It’s up to the spirits to decide
who goes first,” I replied.
“Yeah, okay.” Dottie rolled her eyes, turning her focus to her phone.
My gaze traveled over to Kye. She was wearing a cameo ring on her
right index finger and a necklace with a locket. The locket had a small
amethyst stone in the center and looked like an antique.
“Kye,” I said, almost startling her. “I’m sensing that you lost
someone close to you. A female family member.”
The whites of her eyes started to turn red, and I knew I was on the
right track. She was already on the verge of tears.
“The number two is coming to my mind,” I continued. “That might
represent a February birthday.” The birthstone for February was an
amethyst, like the stone on her locket. “This female that you lost,” I paused,
looking deeply into her eyes. “You had a special relationship with her.”
A tear rolled down Kye’s cheek. She didn’t say anything, so I
continued.
I closed my eyes and concentrated for a few beats. “Now I’m seeing
silver hair. Was she your grandmother?”
Another tear rolled down Kye’s cheek, drawing my attention to her
butterfly earrings. Kye wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket. “How
did you know that I lost my grandmother?”
“Gigi died?” Layla gasped.
“Yeah.” Kye sniffed, wiping her face again. “She passed away two
weeks ago.”
Two weeks? How lucky for me. I hit the nail on the head when I
brought up the number two. I turned and looked at Lane. His eyes were
wide as saucers. I knew he was starting to believe in me.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Lane said. “I know Gigi was like a
mother to you.”
Like a mother? That was helpful information. I scooted forward
locking eyes with Kye. “Your grandmother wants you to know that
whenever you see a butterfly, it’s a sign that she’s with you.” As soon as the
words left my mouth, tears began streaming down Kye’s cheeks like a facet
had been turned on.
Dottie’s face had turned a shade lighter, the snarky grin gone from
her lips. “Kye and her dad planted a summer lilac bush in memory of Gigi,”
Dottie explained. “It’s supposed to attract butterflies.”
Man, I was good. I even surprised myself.
It took Kye several minutes to regain her composure, during which
time I studied William. His baseball cap was old and worn. Some of the
threads had come loose. His phone sat on the coffee table in front of him.
The screen was cracked. I doubted he came from money. Otherwise why
would he be working at a bakery? Why did he work at that bakery, I
wondered.
I searched my memory of the bakery and remembered seeing a
picture of the owner hanging on the wall and the name, Hank Greene, listed
below it. William’s last name was Trout. But his mom’s last name was
Greene. I remembered seeing posts from her on William’s Facebook page.
The owner of the bakery must have been his mom’s new husband. I
wondered if William’s biological father was still involved in his life.
“William,” I said, and his dark eyes flicked up to meet mine. “I’m
seeing a heart split in two, like a choice had to be made that was
emotionally difficult for you.” Did he have to choose which parent to live
with, I wondered. Did he have to choose which one of them to spend
holidays and birthdays with?
Layla turned to look at William. “Oh, maybe she’s talking about
how you chose to live at your grandparent’s house during your freshman
year, because your parents were going through a divorce. Remember how
you couldn’t figure out which one of them to live with.”
William took his baseball cap off and palmed his hair back, his lips
pressed into a straight line. Then he drew in a sharp breath, eyes landing on
me. “My parent’s divorce is none of your business.” His sharp tone made it
clear that he did not want to be messed with. Message received.
I decided to switch tactics and focus on sharing a general message
for anyone in the room. My eyes traveled up the bookcase, and I saw a book
with a picture of a raven on the spine. According to Swedish folklore,
ravens were the spirits of murdered people who hadn’t received a proper
Christian burial. This was perfect! Since Paxton’s body had never been
found, she hadn’t received a proper burial.
 I closed my eyes, concentrating again. “I don’t know who exactly
this message is for,” I began, “but I’m being told that someone’s heart
became broken when the raven took flight.” I opened my eyes, scanning
everyone’s faces. “I see the raven flying over a field of roses and then it
gets crushed. One moment it’s perfectly fine, flying through the air, and the
next moment it’s gone. Something hits it and causes it to die. Whatever has
hit it, has come out of nowhere. It’s so fast and hard to see that it’s
impossible for the raven to escape it.”
The raven was supposed to represent Paxton and how she died. I
included the field of roses, because most of Paxton’s drawings were of
fairies and roses.
Kye rubbed her arms. “Okay, I just got goosebumps. How did you
know that William hit a raven with his car?”
He did? What a lucky coincidence! I had no idea that he hit a raven
with his car. I wasn’t even thinking about a car when I mentioned how it
died. But that makes total sense. A car’s windshield would appear as though
it’s invisible to a bird. It’s hard to see.
William grunted. “That was like three months ago, Kye.” He
adjusted his baseball cap, looking very uncomfortable. “And we don’t even
know what kind of bird it was.”
“I could have sworn it was a raven,” Kye said. She turned to Dottie.
“Wasn’t it a raven? I saw black feathers, didn’t you?”
Dottie shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t remember.”
“A raven . . . wow!” Layla said, raising an eyebrow. “PJ, does the
raven symbolize something?”
“I’ll google it.” Lane reached for his phone.
Kye and William continued to argue over the kind of bird he hit with
his car. Dottie kept her mouth shut. She was staying out of it.
“Here it is,” Lane said, eyes on his phone. “It says that a raven
connects the physical world to the world of spirits. It can represent insight
and prophecy. It’s associated with loss or a bad omen.” He scrolled down.
“It says a lot of other things too.”
“Do you think the raven has something to do with Paxton?” Layla
asked me, a hopeful look in her eyes.
The room fell silent at the mention of Paxton’s name. All eyes were
on me. “The communication I received about the raven . . .” I paused for
dramatic effect. “That was from Paxton. She is the raven.”
 William slowly got up and walked around the coffee table. He stood
right in front of me. If looks could kill, I would be dead. “You’re accusing
me of murdering Paxton, because I hit a stupid bird with my car? That’s
insane! You’re insane!” He turned his venomous stare to Lane. “He’s the
one who did it! He’s the one on house arrest!”
Lane jumped up and got in his face. “I didn’t kill her! I’m innocent.
Somebody framed me! And maybe that somebody is you!”
Kye raced over to break them apart, placing herself between them.
“Guys, calm down. Please!”
Dottie grabbed hold of William’s arm. “Come on, William. Let’s
go!”
Kye grabbed his other arm, and they both pulled him to the front
door. Luckily, he went willingly. A couple seconds later, the door slammed
shut, and they were gone.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. I was sure
everybody believed in my psychic abilities now. Even Lane had to believe
that I had a sixth sense.
Layla had tears in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
“I just wish we had some way to prove that William did it,” she
began crying.
Lane stared down at the floor, his head hanging low.
I pulled out my phone and started playing solitaire, quite pleased
with how the evening went.

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 Chapter 22
PJ (Bellany)

I helped Layla clean up the kitchen and put away the food. She was still
upset that William was getting away with murder, while her brother was
going to go to jail for something he didn’t do.
Lane had already slipped back into his detached, depressed self. He was
watching a slasher movie with a twelve pack of beer. I had no idea where he
got the beer from.
After we finished cleaning, Layla walked past a table in the living
room and stopped suddenly. She spun back around and picked up a
package. “When did this get delivered?”
Lane didn’t hear her. The volume on the TV was too loud.
“What is it?” I asked, wondering what was so special about the package.
She tore it open and pulled out a container full of red liquid.
I shot her a questioning look. “What’s that for?”
Screams from the slasher movie filled the air. Lane tossed an empty
beer can at the TV. “Run you stupid girl!” he shouted.
Layla grabbed her purse and the container of red liquid. “It’s fake
blood,” she said, directing me to the hall closet. She tossed me a coat and
grabbed one for herself too.
I had no idea where we were going or what she was up to, but I was
curious enough to go along without questioning her first.
The 4Runner sped down the road, and I still had no idea what Layla was
up to. What was the fake blood for?
While we were stopped at a red light, Layla picked up the container
of fake blood and gave it a shake. “William is gonna pay for what he did,”
she said, her attention shifting back to the road as the light turned green.
“How?” I asked, wondering if she had totally lost her mind.
“I’m going to dip my finger in that fake blood and write all over
William’s car, Murderer!”
What a dumb idea. “You sure you want to write that?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
The message was stupid, that’s why. But I couldn’t quite be so blunt.
“What’s your ultimate goal here?”
 A few beats of silence passed as Layla stared at another red light,
waiting for it to turn green. Her brows drew together. “I want to scare
William and freak him out. I want to make him pay for framing my
brother!”
I gestured to the container of fake blood. “This is a good start, but I
think the message you write should be different.”
The light turned green, and the 4Runner accelerated through the
intersection. Layla was driving way too fast.
“So what should I write?” she asked, fingers gripping the steering
wheel.
“What kinds of things would Paxton typically say?”
Her mouth dropped open. “You want to make it seem like Paxton
wrote the message? That’s a great idea!” A wicked gleam entered her eyes.
“I know the perfect thing to write. . . . You’re digging your own grave!”
“You’re digging your own grave?” I repeated.
“Paxton used to say that all the time. It’s the perfect thing to write!”
Layla turned down a dark street, heading up a hill. When she finally pulled
over and cut off the engine. She turned her gaze to a single story house
across the street. “That’s where William lives.”
All of the house lights were off, inside and out. There were no other
houses or buildings around for miles, no street lights either. Everything was
incredibly dark.

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 Chapter 23
PJ (Bellany)

William’s house was surrounded by endless trees. Under the haze of the
moonlight, I could see two trucks and a sports car parked in the driveway.
“Which car is William’s?” I asked.
“The Nissan 280z.” She rubbed her hands together like she was
cold. “I should warn you about something first. . . .”
Warn me? That didn’t sound good.
“William lives here with his dad and his older brother, Josh. All
three of them own guns. We have to be super quiet. If they hear us, they
might think we’re trying to break in and steal something.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked her.
“I don’t have a choice.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ve gotta start
breaking William down emotionally, bit by bit, until he finally slips up and
says or does something stupid. He’s the one who should have an ankle
monitor on, not my brother.” Layla picked up the container of fake blood.
“Ready?”
“I guess so.”
We were careful not to make a sound when we shut the doors of the
4Runner. When we started walking up the gravel driveway, Layla stumbled
and grabbed onto the tailgate of one of the trucks to steady herself. It fell
open, landing with a loud bang. Then a bunch of crap came tumbling out of
the back of the truck, crashing to the ground. There was no way anybody
could sleep through all that noise.
The porch light flicked on, then I heard another noise from over my
shoulder. I spun around to look. It was too dark to see anything in the trees.
I had no idea if someone was there. Another noise pricked my ears. When I
turned back around, my stomach dipped. Layla was gone!
The sound of gravel crunching under footsteps filled the air. I
dropped down to my hands and knees and crawled under the truck, my
heart hammering in my chest.
“Hey!” a deep voice shouted as the flurry of footsteps drew closer.
The voice didn’t sound like William’s.
 I laid under the truck on a bed of gravel, trying to slow my
breathing. A pair of boots appeared. Then a second set of footsteps
approached. There were two people. I listened intently, wondering if one of
them was William. An engine roared in the distance, and my chest
tightened. That was Layla’s 4Runner. She was ditching me!
Then a gunshot exploded, and my entire body jumped.

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 Chapter 24
Paxton

The Past. . . .

All of my friends were at the track watching Lane, William, and a bunch
of other guys race. But I didn’t feel like going. I was getting tired of
watching Lane drive around in his car every Saturday night.
I had asked him to skip racing, just for one night, but he didn’t want
to. Apparently I wasn’t a priority to him. Finishing first in the race was
more important. He didn’t seem to care that my parents were out of town
and that we would have the whole house to ourselves.
After spending a couple hours getting ready, just in case he changed
his mind, I sat on the couch, phone next to me, and pulled up something to
watch on Netflix. I knew it was pathetic of me to sit at home, hoping that he
would change his mind and show up here unexpectedly. But that’s exactly
what I was doing. Waiting. For him.
As time continued to pass, it became more clear that I got my hopes
up for nothing.
Feeling depressed and rejected, I changed my clothes and slipped
into some sweats. I took off my makeup and washed my face. Then I curled
up under a blanket on the couch, and turned on an episode of Law and
Order, eating ice cream straight out of the carton, trying not to dwell on my
relationship problems. But no amount of ice cream could numb how lonely
I felt.
My phone chimed with a text, and my heart leapt in my chest.
Maybe it was Lane. I dropped the spoon into the carton and grabbed my
phone.
When I saw the name on the screen, all hope inside me vanished.
The text was from William. It read: Hey. I’m parked in front of your
house. I brought you some frozen yogurt with animal crackers on top.
Your favorite.
My stomach churned at the thought of eating more dairy. I had
already finished off half a carton of cookies and cream.
 I opened the door and let him in, wondering why he wasn’t at the
track with Lane and the rest of the guys. Why had he brought me frozen
yogurt?
William handed it to me, a huge smile on his face, dimples showing.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here,” he said.
Where else would I be, I thought to myself. It was after ten. All of
my favorite clothing stores were closed. My friends were at the track. My
parents were gone. There was no way I’d go to the movies by myself. My
only other option was to hang out next door at Cheryl’s house. Cheryl was
forty-something, single, and spent her Saturday nights watching boring old
black and white movies. Plus she was a loud chewer. She’d probably drive
me crazy chomping on popcorn and chips.
William walked past me, and I caught the scent of sandalwood
cologne. Weird, I thought to myself. Lane wore that same brand of cologne.
Then I noticed William’s hair. It was slightly damp, like he had just
taken shower. His clothes looked fresh and clean, everything about him was
inviting.
“Thanks for the yogurt,” I said, heading to the freezer in the kitchen.
“I’ll save it for later. I’m not hungry right now.”
“What are you watching?” he asked, standing in front of the TV.
“Law and Order. But the episode is almost over. We can watch
something else.” I picked up the remote and began scrolling through the
selection on Netflix and then on Amazon Prime Video.
William pointed at the TV screen. “Let’s watch this one.”
“Pride and Prejudice?” I replied, surprised. William wanted to
watch a chick flick? Lane never wanted to watch stuff like this. He always
wanted to watch scary, violent, and bloody movies, even though they gave
me nightmares.
“Pride and Prejudice is your favorite movie, right?”
William remembered? Wow. “Yes, it is my favorite movie, and
normally I would want to watch it, but I’m not really in the mood tonight.” I
scrolled through the movie options, searching for something else.
“What’s wrong?” William asked.
He sounded concerned, and he would probably be a good listener.
But was it wise for me to talk to him about my relationship problems? If
Lane ever found out that I spilled my guts to William, he’d freak. He’d see
it as a betrayal. Lane and William were so competitive with each other that
sometimes they acted like enemies.
“It’s nothing,” I said, scrolling through more movie options.
William shifted on the couch, turning to face me. “Paxton, I know
how to keep a secret. Whatever you say to me will be locked in my head,
never to be shared with another person. Ever. I promise.”
“What about Layla?” Didn’t he tell his girlfriend everything?
He shook his head. “She doesn’t need to know anything that
happens here tonight.”
“Where is she, by the way? Why aren’t you hanging out with her
tonight?”
“She’s at home. She’s sick.”
Layla was sick a lot. Part of me wondered if she just pretended to be
sick to get attention. “Oh, well, I hope she feels better soon.”
“I already dropped off some soup for her. I think she’ll be fine.”
I hugged my knees into my chest. “Did you tell her you were
coming over here?” My eyes shifted to his phone. It was sticking partway
out of his pocket. Whenever Layla was apart from William, she texted him
constantly. She even kept track of his location with a tracker app.
William pulled his phone from his pocket, showing me the black
screen. “I turned it off.” He set it down on the coffee table. “Layla needs to
get some sleep and let her body recover.”
I raised my eyebrows. Layla wasn’t going to relax if she couldn’t
get in touch with William. She was going to be upset. But that was his
problem. Not mine.
As we sat on the couch watching an episode of Murder She Wrote, I
kept thinking about Lane. We were both seniors in high school. What kind
of future did we have? Were we going to stay together after we graduated?
Lane didn’t have plans to go to college. His plans included traveling
and going on vacations. I was unsure if he was expecting me to go with
him. Part of me wondered if he would leave one day and never come back.
Lane had told me that as soon as he turned eighteen, he would have
access to his trust fund. He said, “I won’t have to work. I’ll have enough
money to last me a lifetime.”
He failed to mention any future plans with me. Was I just
temporary? Would he dump me after graduation?
 “Paxton,” William said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Are you
okay?”
I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my face. What
good would it do to talk about my relationship problems with William? He
couldn’t fix anything.
William picked up the TV remote and pressed pause. “What is
wrong with you? Please tell me. Maybe I can help.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You definitely can’t help.”
“How do you know? Maybe I can.”
I shook my head. “It’s just stuff about me and Lane.”
“What is it? What’s the problem?”
I bit my lip, hesitating. “Well, I asked him to come over tonight, but
he said he didn’t want to miss out on going to the track. Sometimes I feel
like he cares more about winning races than me.”
William made a weird face like he wanted to say something, but he
didn’t, so I continued. “Lane knows my parents are gone and that we could
have been alone together tonight, but that didn’t seem to entice him.”
“He’s an idiot,” William said. “If I were him, I would have jumped
at the chance to be here with you.”
“Yeah, right,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”
What was that supposed to mean? “Did you know I would be here
alone?”
He adjusted how he was sitting, scooting closer. “Yeah. . . . Dottie
told me.”
Butterflies swirled in my stomach. What were William’s intentions?
What about Layla?
I was emotionally vulnerable and knew I shouldn’t have let him in
my house tonight, but at the same time I didn’t want him to leave. The
boundary line of friendship was becoming thinner by the second.
We continued to sit there, watching TV, and when he placed his
hand on mine, I didn’t pull away. When he let go and placed his arm behind
me on the back of the couch, I didn’t move. I stayed put. He leaned closer,
his eyes fixed on mine, and I knew what was going to happen next. I also
knew that I wasn’t going to stop him. Our lips met, and everything felt
right. I forgot about Lane, and all I could think about was William. Had I
always been attracted to him? Deep down inside, had I been wanting this to
happen?
The kiss grew in intensity, way too quickly. And suddenly I became
unsure. He was moving too fast. I pulled away, realizing I couldn’t do this.
“If you’re worried about Layla, don’t be,” William said, reaching for
my hand, pulling me closer. “I want to be with you, not her. I’ve always
been in love with you, Paxton. Ever since I first met you.”
He was in love with me? I couldn’t say the same about him. I didn’t
feel that way at all. Sure, I was attracted to him, but that wasn’t the same
thing as love. That was lust. Plus, he had a girlfriend, and I had a boyfriend.
I pulled my hand away. “This was a mistake,” I said, rising to my feet. “You
should go.”
I could see the heartache in his eyes, but I wasn’t going to change
my mind. “Paxton, please--”
“You need to leave,” I said, backing away from him. “Just go.”
He stood up. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll be waiting for
you.” Then he took a step toward me, and I held up my hand, signaling him
to stop.
“William. No. You have to go.” I followed him to the door and
opened it for him. “Please don’t tell anyone about what happened between
us tonight. This never happened. Understand?”
He looked back at me one last time, sadness in his eyes, then he
turned and walked off.
I locked the door, relieved he was gone, and mad at myself for being
so weak. I shouldn’t have kissed him.

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 Chapter 25
Paxton

The Past. . . .

The doorbell rang. I paused the TV, hoping William hadn’t returned.
What happened between him and I was a mistake, and I wasn’t about to
make the same mistake twice.
As I walked toward the door, I glanced at the clock. It was almost
one in the morning.
I looked through the peephole, and my stomach dropped. It wasn’t
William. It was his girlfriend, Layla!
“I know you’re in there!” she shouted, mashing the doorbell over
and over again.
Great. Layla must have found out about me and William. But how? I
grabbed my phone and texted William: Layla is here at my house!
The door pounded. “Paxton!” Layla shouted from the other side.
“Open the door!”
My phone chimed with a text from William: I’m on my way over.
Five minutes passed and Layla was still at it, banging on the door,
ringing the doorbell, and demanding that I let her in.
I didn’t say a word to her. I kept completely quiet, hoping William
would get here soon.
Another five minutes passed and finally a set of headlights flashed
up against the house. It was William!
I opened up the door as soon as I saw him.
Layla’s eyes swung between me and William. Streaks of mascara
trailed down her cheeks. She was wearing pajamas and didn’t have any
shoes on. Her venomous stare finally settled on William. “What are you
doing here? Did you come back for seconds?” Her head swiveled in my
direction. “William told me all about your little secret rendezvous!”
I shot him a questioning look, waiting for an explanation. Why did
he tell her? What was he thinking? Did Lane know too?
“Layla, come on,” William pleaded. “You need to go home.”
 Layla ignored him, her attention remained solely on me. “Do you
think you’re something special?” She looked me up and down with an
expression of disgust on her face. “Do you think you’re better than me?”
“No, that’s not what I think at all.”
She tossed her hair back. “You’re so plain. You’re just blah. You
have no personality, whatsoever. No style. Your clothes look like they come
from a thrift store. Your hair is so nasty. It’s full of split ends. And you’re
boring. You never have anything interesting to say, nobody ever wants to
hang out with you alone. It’s too awkward. . . .”
I stood there listening to her hurl insults at me, ready to slam the
door in her face. “Are you done?” I snapped. “Did you say what you came
here to say? Did you get it out of your system? Do you feel better now?”
Layla gritted her teeth, inhaling sharply. “No. I’m not done--”
William reached for her arm, interrupting her. “That’s enough.
Come on. Let’s go.”
She yanked her arm out of his grasp, and I noticed something long
and narrow in her pocket. Just the tip was sticking out, but based on the
entirety of its shape, I felt certain I was looking at some kind of a foldable
knife or switchblade. My stomach dropped.
“William,” I said, pointing. “She’s got a knife in her pocket!”
Layla reached for it, but William was faster and got to it first. He
held it in his hand, a look of shock on his face. It was a switchblade.
“Layla! What are you doing with this? Why did you bring this here?”
Those were my questions exactly. Had she lost her mind?
She tried to grab it back from him, but William held it out of her
reach. He was much taller than her.
“Give it back!” she demanded. “That’s mine!”
I couldn’t believe she brought a switchblade to my house! “Were
you going to stab me with that?” I shouted.
William stuffed the switchblade into his pocket. “Layla, you need to
go home, right now!”
She stomped her foot, fists clenched. “I’m not leaving. I’m not
going anywhere!”
I grabbed my phone. “I’m calling the cops.”
William held up his hands. “Paxton, you don’t need to call the cops.
Everything’s going to be fine. I’m taking her home.” He grabbed hold of
Layla’s arm. “She’s just drunk. She’s not thinking straight.”
 “Let go of me!” Layla tried to break free, but she wasn’t strong
enough. Then she collapsed to the ground, refusing to get up and walk.
I didn’t know if she was drunk, and I didn’t care. She was
dangerous. She brought a switchblade to my house.
William picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
She kicked and screamed. “Put me down!”
Somehow William managed to get her into his car and drive away.
After I shut the door and locked it, I looked down at my hands. They
were shaking. I had to call the cops and tell them that Layla had brought a
switchblade to my house. But as I was about to dial nine-one-one, I
wondered if they would even be able to do anything. She didn’t try to stab
me. She just had it in her pocket. Was that enough to get in trouble with the
cops?
Instead of calling nine-one-one, I decided to call Dottie. Her dad
was a cop. She could ask him what I should do.
I pressed the button to dial her number and it started to ring. She
was probably asleep, but I hoped she would wake up and answer.
“Hello.” Dottie sounded groggy, barely awake.
“Dottie, you’re not gonna believe what just happened. . . .”
I went on to explain everything, even the part about me and William
kissing. “Do you think Layla will get in trouble with the cops for bringing a
switchblade to my house? I mean, I don’t know if she really broke the law
or anything. Should I call nine-one-one and ask them?”
I hoped Dottie would offer to wake up her dad and ask him. I didn’t
want to call the cops unless they’d be able to do something about Layla.
My other line beeped. It was William calling. “Dottie, I gotta go. I’ll
call you right back. William’s on the other line.”
“Okay. Make sure you call me back.”
“I will.”
I switched to the other line, anxious to find out what was going on.
Did Layla try to stab him, I wondered. “William,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Layla’s in the car with me.”
Then what was he calling me for? I doubted Layla wanted to
apologize. “I’m about to call the cops, so. . . .”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” William said. “Layla
wants to make a deal with you.”
I couldn’t believe what I just heard. “A deal?”
 “Yes. If you promise not to call the cops, then she’ll promise not to
tell Lane about what happened between you and I.”
This was unexpected and had caught me totally off guard. I
definitely did not want Lane to find out about me and William. Would she
really keep her word, though? “How do I know I can trust her?”
“Paxton, you can trust her. She’s serious. She doesn’t want the cops
getting involved. If they do, they’ll find out that she’s been drinking, and
that she drove her car while under the influence.”
It all made sense now. She did have a lot to be concerned about.
“Okay. I agree. I won’t call the cops. But she better not ever do anything
like that again. She better not ever step foot on my property again.”
“She knows. She’s sorry. She totally messed up.”
I didn’t believe she was sorry, but I didn’t want to argue the point.
“Fine.”
We ended the call, and I headed back to the couch. I couldn’t believe
the turn of events tonight. I thought for sure Layla would tell Lane that I
cheated on him, and then he would break up with me. But by some miracle,
I had been given a second chance.
I turned on the TV, still trying to make sense of everything. I hoped I
hadn’t overlooked something important.
My phone chimed with a text from Dottie: It’s me and my dad.
Open up.
Then a knock came to the front door. Crap! I forgot to call her back.
Dottie lived less than a mile away, so I wasn’t surprised at how
quickly they got here. I was surprised that they were here. What was I going
to do? I promised Layla that I wouldn’t call the cops.
I opened the door to let them in. Dottie’s dad wasn’t wearing his
police uniform. He was just wearing regular clothes, jeans, tennis shoes,
and a hoodie. How should I address him? Should I call him Officer Daily?
Mr. Daily?
“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Dottie explained, a
worried look on her face.
I looked up at her dad. He was really tall and kind of intimidating.
His shoulders were broad and his neck was thick. He had a rough look
about him. If I didn’t already know that he was a cop, I would’ve thought
he was a criminal.
I forced a smile. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine now.”
 He looked down at me with his piercing hazel eyes. “Dottie told me
about what happened.”
I had to think of a way to diffuse the situation, and the first thing
that popped into my head was a lie. If I didn’t lie to Dottie’s dad about the
switchblade, then my deal with Layla would be broken. She would tell
Lane, and he would break up with me. I had no choice. I had to lie.
“Yeah, um, it turns out that I was mistaken,” I said, hoping I
sounded believable. “I thought Layla had a switchblade in her pocket, but it
was just a candy bar. I know that’s really stupid of me to jump to
conclusions like that, but it’s dark out, you know, and Layla and I got into
an argument. . . .” I pushed my hair out of my face, hesitating. I hated lying
to a cop. “Anyway, it turns out I made a huge mistake. I’m so sorry I woke
you both up in the middle of the night for nothing.”
Dottie shot me a confused look. “How could you have mistaken a
candybar for a switchblade?”
“They’re kind of shaped the same.” I shrugged. “And like I said, it’s
dark out. I really didn’t get a good look at it. But William confirmed that it
was just a candy bar.”
“I see,” Dottie’s father said. He scratched the whiskers on his chin
as he scanned the living room. “Dottie told me your parents are out of town.
Are you going to be okay here by yourself?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I nodded. “I’m gonna be totally fine. They go out of
town all the time on business trips. I’m used to it.”
He cocked his head, staring at me. “Well, if you have any other
problems with Layla harassing you, then let me know.”
“Thank you. Yes. I will definitely let you know.”
Dottie gave me a hug before she and her dad walked out the door.
“You call me if she shows up here again.”
“I promise. I will.”
When I shut the door, I let out a huge sigh of relief, but I didn’t feel
relaxed. My hands were still shaking.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 26
Paxton

The Past. . . .

The doorbell rang, waking me from a deep sleep. I wasn’t sure if it

really was the doorbell or if I was just dreaming.
The family room was bright. The sun was shining through the
windows. I rubbed my eyes, then checked the time, surprised to see that it
was already noon. I couldn’t believe I slept for so long.
The doorbell rang again. This time I knew it was real, and a sense of
dread washed over me, my thoughts turning to what happened with Layla. I
hoped it wasn’t her at the door.
I got up from the couch, tiptoed to the front door, and looked
through the peephole. Thank goodness. It was just Dottie. I noticed her bike
propped up against the house. Normally she walked here.
I opened the door, and the corners of her mouth turned down. She
didn’t look happy at all. “I know you lied to my dad.” She sounded irritated,
and she should be.
“I’m sorry. I know.” I sighed, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I'll
explain everything.” I closed the door and locked it, then we headed to the
living room.
Dottie sat in the recliner across from me as I began telling her about the
deal I had made with Layla. Her expression softened. She didn’t seem upset
anymore, which was a relief.
She picked up the TV remote and began scrolling through Netflix.
“You had the perfect opportunity to get Layla in humongous trouble, but
you didn’t take it.” She gave me a sidelong look. “You must really like
Lane. And if that’s the case, then why did you cheat on him?”
I didn’t want to get into a long discussion about my insecurities with
Lane. I didn’t want to talk about my relationship problems at all. “I don’t
know why I did it. It was a mistake.”
Dottie’s focus shifted to her phone. “So do you like William?”
“I like him as a friend. But that’s all.”
“Just friends? Are you sure?” She arched an eyebrow.
 “Yes, I’m sure. Just friends.”
She propped her chin on her fist, a curious look in her eyes. “So
William’s kiss wasn't, like, totally amazing? The kind that just knocks your
socks off and sends a jolt of electricity throughout your entire body? The
kind that makes you think about him nonstop?”
“No, of course not. It was nothing like that. There was no spark. I
felt nothing.” That wasn’t true. I did feel something. I stared at the spot on
the couch next to me where William sat last night, thinking about our kiss. I
liked everything about it. It was perfect. But it was also wrong. I shouldn’t
have done it.
“So what are you going to do about Layla?” Dottie asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you just going to forgive her and act like she didn’t show up
here with a switchblade?”
“I don’t know . . . maybe.” What else could I do?
Dottie sat forward, eyebrows raised. “She brought that switchblade
to your house, with the intention of using it on you, Paxton. This is serious.
You can’t just let it go.”
A chill ran down my spine, and I pulled a blanket over me. Dottie
was right. I couldn’t ignore what had happened. Layla wanted to hurt me,
otherwise why would she have brought a switchblade to my house? “I don’t
trust her at all. I don’t think she’s safe to be around.”
“That’s for sure.” Dottie continued scrolling through Netflix. She
selected a show about vampires, which wasn’t a surprise. Dottie loved
anything and everything that had to do with vampires. The show had barely
started playing when she paused it and looked at me with a curious
expression.
“What?”
“I think I know what to do about Layla. Let’s shun her.”
“Shun her?”
Dottie’s hazel eyes widened. “Yeah. Let’s ignore her and treat her
like she doesn’t exist. Whenever we get together to do stuff with everybody,
she won’t be invited.”
I sat there, considering her suggestion, wondering if it was possible
to pull it off. Layla was Lane’s sister. I wouldn’t be able to avoid her
whenever I went over to their house, but I would be able to avoid her other
places, like at school. I could stop inviting her to do things with me. I could,
as Dottie said, ‘shun her.’
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I like that idea.”
Dottie pointed at me with the TV remote. “I’ll tell Kye what the
plan is. She’ll be on board with it. There’s no doubt in my mind. And before
long, Layla will find her own group of friends, and we won’t have to deal
with her anymore.”
She pressed play, then a couple seconds later she hit pause again. “I
just had another idea.” A sly grin touched her lips. “Remember that
camping trip we've been talking about? Let’s do it. Let’s go camping
tonight. You, me, Kye, William, Lane, and we won’t invite Layla.”
“You think William’s going to go camping without Layla?”
Dottie almost dropped the TV remote. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
She picked up her phone, fingers tapping the screen. “Oh my gosh, I
thought you knew.” She turned her phone around to show me Layla’s
Instagram page. “It says here that she’s single. She and William broke up.”
“Wow. She must be really furious with him.”
Dottie chuckled. “William is now single. He’s a free man.”
I tucked my feet under me, wondering why Dottie was so happy
about this. “Are you interested in him?”
“Uh, yeah.” She looked at me like I had three heads. “I’ve only been
talking about how hot he is ever since I moved here eight months ago.”
I knew Dottie thought William was hot, but she said that about
almost every decent guy at school, not just him.
Dottie picked up her phone again. “I’ll plan everything for our
camping trip tonight. We’ll go to our usual camp site at the Kanawha State
Forest. I’ll ask William to reserve it. All you have to do is invite Lane. Let’s
all meet up at Kye’s house before we go.” The corners of her mouth turned
up as her fingers skated across her phone. “Layla’s going to be so furious
when she finds out we went camping without her.”
I just hoped she wouldn’t be furious enough to do something stupid
with that switchblade of hers. Dottie needed to be careful if she was going
to pursue William. And I still needed to watch my back too.
I sent Lane a text and told him about camping tonight. He agreed to
go, but he wanted to meet up for dinner at the deli first. I was nervous about
seeing him. I hoped Layla would keep her mouth shut like she promised.
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 27
Paxton

The Past. . . .

When Lane picked me up to go to the deli, I was a bundle of nerves.

Things felt super awkward, and I couldn’t relax. Did he know about me and
William? Was he just pretending like he didn’t?
We sat at our usual table with our turkey subs. Lane was telling me
about how one of the guys he went off-roading with this morning crashed
into a ditch.
I tried to act like I was interested in his story, but I couldn’t care less
about how his friend’s ATV got wrecked.
Spending time with Lane meant that I had to endure listening to a lot
of stories about the things he was interested in like cars, ATV’s, and bow
hunting. We didn’t have a lot in common. I tried to act as though I liked
those things too. But truthfully, I thought it was all boring.
I couldn’t stand the movies that he watched. But violence and gore
didn’t bother him at all. He was totally desensitized to it.
He collected weapons; anything that could harm, kill, or maim a
person. Like knives, axes, and throwing stars. He practiced throwing them
at targets. He loved all that tough guy stuff.
I took another bite of my turkey sub. I had already eaten half of it.
Lane had been so busy talking that he had hardly touched his turkey sub.
When he finally shut up and started eating, I was tempted to bring up the
subject of our future.
I wanted to know if his plans included me. After he got access to his
trust fund and graduated from high school, was he going to be traveling the
world without me? If I wasn’t included in his future plans, would he tell
me? Or would he just continue to lead me on until graduation, then dump
me?
The door to the deli swung open. I turned to look, and my stomach
dropped. William stood in the doorway, and his eyes had just landed on me.
He headed to the counter to place his order, and that was when Lane looked
up and saw him.
 “Good thing Layla’s not here,” Lane said.
My armpits started sweating. “Why?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“She and William broke up. She said he cheated on her.”
My heart jumped into my throat. What else did she say, I wondered.
Did she say anything about me? I took a bite of my turkey sub.
“I’ve never seen my sister so upset before. Her eyes were all red and
swollen from crying.”
I swallowed hard. “How sad.” I picked up my Diet Pepsi and took a
drink.
Lane looked over his shoulder, glancing at William. “I asked her if
she wanted me to beat him up.”
Beat him up? I coughed, nearly choking on my Diet Pepsi.
“But she said she could handle him on her own.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, remembering the switchblade she
had in her pocket.
“Layla isn’t the type of person to forgive and forget. She always gets
revenge.” Lane took another bite of his turkey sub.
I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead, my heart was racing
so fast. “What kind of revenge are you talking about?”
Lane pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “I don’t know, but William
better watch his back.”
Nervous butterflies swirled in my stomach. I needed to watch my
back too. “Don’t you think you should encourage Layla to let this go?” I
asked, hoping he would understand his duty as her brother. “Revenge is
never the right way to handle things.”
Lane chuckled. “You’re cute, you know that?” He leaned in and
kissed me on the cheek, which irritated me.
“I’m being serious, Lane. Your sister needs to learn how to handle
breakups with grace and civility.”
The smirk on Lane’s face vanished. “If William wanted things to
end civilly, then he shouldn’t have cheated on my sister,” he hissed. “He
should know better than to treat my little sister like trash. Not only did he
disrespect her, but he disrespected me too!”
Lane needed to calm down. William had just finished paying for his
food and was on his way over to our table. “Just relax,” I said, placing a
hand on Lane’s arm. “Don’t get worked up about this.”
 “Hey guys,” William said, casually. He stood on the opposite side of
the table from Lane with his sub sandwich in hand. Please don’t sit down, I
thought to myself. Please don’t stay.
“You ditched us last night at the track,” Lane said, staring up at him.
“Where were you?”
My heart pounded harder. Don’t answer that question! Don’t say
anything about last night!
“I had other plans,” William replied. The door to the diner swung
open and another customer entered, briefly drawing his attention.
“What about this morning?” Lane asked. “Did you have other plans
too? Is that why you didn’t show up to go off-roading?”
William set his sub sandwich down on the table, then leaned onto
the back of the empty chair. “Yep. Busy.”
“Don’t give me that crap!” Lane snapped. “Were you with her? Is
that where you were? I heard what happened between you and my sister.”
William’s eyes shifted to me, a questioning look on his face.
I had to think of something to say to let William know that our
secret was still safe. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and Layla,”
I said. “Breakups are never easy.”
Lane snapped his head in my direction. “Why would you say that?”
His brows cinched together. “This joker cheated on my sister! I swear,
Paxton, sometimes you’re so stupid.”
“Hey!” William’s voice boomed. “Don’t talk to her that way.”
Lane jumped to his feet, his chair flying backward. “Mind your own
business!”
Oh, no! This needed to stop! “Please, Lane. Just sit down,” I said,
reaching for his arm.
“Stay out of this!” He shoved me away so hard, I almost fell off my
chair.
William lunged across the table, tackling Lane to the ground, and
fists went flying, chairs fell over. Nearby customers abandoned their tables.
“Taser!” A deep voice shouted.
I looked up, in shock. It was Dottie’s dad, Officer Daily. When did
he get here?
Officer Daily drew the taser from its holster. “This is your last
warning! Taser, taser, taster!” he said, pointing it at them.
 William and Lane immediately broke apart, backing away from each
other.
“Both of you!” Officer Daily shouted. “Outside! Right now!”
I followed them to the door, wondering what was going to happen.
“This was just a big misunderstanding,” I said to Officer Daily. “Please
don’t arrest them.”
He turned around, his tall body towering over me. “Were they
fighting because of you?”
My stomach dipped. Oh no. Please don’t bring up what happened
last night! “This had nothing to do with me,” I lied.
Officer Daily turned to William and Lane who were already outside.
“Stay there! Don’t move!” He pulled the door shut, then placed his hand on
my lower back, directing me to step out of the path of customers. “Paxton,
what happened?”
“Please don’t tell Lane about what happened last night with me and
William, or about what happened with Layla.”
“He doesn’t know? Then what were they fighting about?”
I hesitated, trying to think of the easiest way to explain this. “Lane is
mad at William for cheating on his sister,” I said in a low voice. “But he
doesn’t know that he cheated with me, so please don’t tell him.”
“Look, Paxton.” Officer Daily exhaled heavily, resting a hand on my
shoulder. “Lane is going to find out about you and William sooner or later.
Maybe it’s best if he found out now, while I’m here to make sure he doesn’t
overreact.”
“Please don’t tell him,” I said, my heart racing. “What happened
between me and William was a mistake. I don’t want Lane to find out.” If
he did, he’d attack William, maybe not now, but he would eventually. And
it wouldn’t end well.
“All right,” Office Daily said, patting my shoulder. “I’ll be sure not
to say anything.”
“Thank you.”
As I stood there watching them through the window, I thought about
what had happened when I reached for Lane’s arm. I was only trying to
diffuse the situation and calm him down, and he almost knocked me off my
chair. I was still stunned at how rough he had been with me, and that he
called me stupid.
 Was Lane like my father and my stepfather? Was he an abuser too?
At that moment, I realized that I no longer cared about having a future with
Lane. I did not want to repeat the same mistakes my mother had made.
The door swung open, and in walked Officer Daily, Lane, and
William. Officer Daily smiled at me as he walked to the counter to order
some food. Lane and William sat down at the table with me.
“So what happened?” I asked, my eyes swinging between the two of
them. Were they still mad at each other?
Lane looked over his shoulder in Officer Daily’s direction. “That
guy is a piece of work.”
William nodded in agreement. “I’ve never met a guy with a bigger
ego. I can’t believe he’s Dottie’s dad. How can she stand him?”
“What did he say to you guys?” I asked.
Lane continued glaring at Officer Daily’s back. “He said if we ever
did anything wrong again, he’d arrest us, and he specifically mentioned
racing. He said it’s illegal.”
“But you guys don’t race on the street,” I said. “You do it on your
uncle’s property.” Lane’s uncle owned a large warehouse that was sitting
empty and no longer being used for business. Lane, William, and a bunch of
other guys used the enormous parking lot as a racetrack.
While they sat there, stewing over Officer Daily’s threat, I wondered
how I should handle things with Lane. Should I break up with him now,
while Officer Daily was nearby to make sure he kept his temper in check? It
would probably humiliate Lane if I did it in front of William, but I didn’t
care.
“Lane,” I said.
He kept staring in the direction of Officer Daily. “What?”
“I need to talk to you.”
William’s attention had been grabbed. He turned to face me
immediately, while Lane’s eyes remained glued to Officer Daily. “Go
ahead.”
“Can you look at me?” I asked, my frustration growing.
Lane turned to face me. “What?” he snapped. “What do you want?”
Hearing his snarky tone only confirmed that I was doing the right
thing. “I want to break up.”
The shock registered on William’s face before it did on Lane’s.
 I rose from my chair, hoping to end this conversation quickly.
“We’re done. For good. Don’t come camping tonight. I don’t want you
there.”
He grabbed me by the arm. “Pax, why are you breaking up with
me?”
I looked down at his hand. “Let go of me.”
He immediately released his grip. “What’s going on? Tell me why,
Pax!”
“You shoved me earlier.” I gestured to the table we had been sitting
at before. “Remember? I was trying to get you to calm down and you
shoved me!”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “You can’t be serious. I barely
touched you.”
“No, you didn’t. You almost knocked me over.” And you called me
stupid, I thought to myself.
“I would never intentionally hurt you, Pax. If I did, then I apologize.
I’m so sorry. It will never happen again. I promise.”
Lane knew all about my father and stepfather. He knew how I felt
about them and how hard my life has been.
“No apology will fix what you did.” I walked out of the diner,
heading down the sidewalk, hoping he wouldn’t try to follow me.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 28
Paxton

The Past. . . .

The fastest route home was to cut through a neighborhood full of

rundown houses, most of them abandoned and unoccupied. I hesitated to go
that way, worried that I might run into trouble.
Walking along the main street also had its problems. There was almost
zero traffic this time of night. All the businesses in the downtown area were
already closed. Lane would be able to easily find me since this place was
like a ghost town.
I pulled my phone out to text Dottie while I walked home: I broke
up with Lane.
My phone chimed with a response: What? But I thought you wanted
to stay together with him?
I responded: I thought so too. But that was before he shoved me.
She responded right away again: I’m coming over. I want to hear all
the details. Are you home?
I replied: Not yet. I’ll be home in about 20.
I was about to slip my phone into my pocket, when I received
another text. It was from Lane: Can we talk?
I replied: There’s nothing to talk about. We’re through.
He responded: Please. I just want a chance to explain.
No amount of explaining could fix things between us. I texted back:
Actions speak louder than words.
He replied: You’re breaking my heart, Pax. I love you.
I texted back: You don’t know what love is.
As I slid my phone back into my pocket, a childhood memory
surfaced in my mind. I was probably six or seven years old, and I was
playing with my dolls in the family room, which was down the hall from
the kitchen. I could hear my father yelling at my mom. He was mad because
she burned the garlic bread. My mom had prepared spaghetti for dinner
with homemade sauce and had spent a lot of time on it, but that didn’t
matter. My father could only focus on the negative: the burnt garlic bread.
 “What is this?” my father shouted. Then I heard a loud noise. It
sounded like a pan had been dropped onto the floor. “You expect me to eat
this?”
“I was going to scrape off the burnt part,” my mom explained. “It’s
perfectly fine underneath.”
“Don’t talk back to me!”
“I’m sorry,” my mom said, her voice shaking. She sounded like she
was about to cry. I wanted to save her from my father, but I was too small.
All I could do was sit there on the couch, curled up into a ball under a
blanket with my stuffed animal.
Dishes were broken, food was thrown, and I heard my father say the
same thing he always said to my mom when he got mad at her. “You’re a fat
slob. You can’t do anything right. You’re a failure. No one could ever love
you!”
My mom wasn’t a fat slob. She wasn’t a failure. She was smart and
driven, but he kept tearing her down, destroying her self-confidence.
I thought she would never be brave enough to leave him, but one
day, when I was in the second grade, she picked me up early from school. I
got in the car and noticed the back seat was full of boxes. She said that she
was leaving my father and that we were moving far away from him. She
promised me that she would never go back to him. But she lied. She went
back to him over and over again. And the abuse didn’t stop. It got worse.
When I was in the sixth grade, my mom picked me up early from
school again. This time there weren’t any boxes in the backseat. She told
me that my father had been arrested. He got caught stealing from the
company he worked for. He was finally out of our lives for good.
My mom got a job and worked full time while she went to college at
night. One thing she always told me was, “Don’t make the same mistake I
did, Paxton. Don’t marry, don’t even date a guy like your father. The first
time a man ever lays a hand on you, get rid of him. You end that
relationship. Because if you don’t, you'll be stuck just like I was, and it will
be almost impossible to get away.”
How I wished she had listened to her own advice, instead of
marrying my stepfather. He turned out to be an abuser too. I also wished she
wouldn’t have distanced herself from me and forgotten that she was
supposed to protect me. She was supposed to watch out for me.
 Another chime filled the air, and I looked down at the screen of
my phone. It was a text from a number I didn’t recognize: It’s not safe to
walk home alone at night.
I heard a car behind me, and my heart jumped into my throat. A
police cruiser pulled up beside me, the passenger side window down. It was
Officer Daily.
“Hop in. I’ll give you a ride home,” he said with a friendly smile.
Something inside me told me not to get into his car. Something
wasn’t right. I took a step back. “No thanks. I’m gonna walk home.”
The smile fell from his face. “Are you sure? It’s not a problem for
me to give you a ride.”
The panicked feeling inside me continued to grow. “I’m sure,” I
said, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Come on,” he said, a smile on his face again. “You don’t really
want to walk home by yourself in the dark. Get in.”
Every fiber of my being was telling me not to get into his police
cruiser. I pulled my phone out, tapped the button to call William, and placed
it to my ear like I was pretending to answer. “Hello?” I paused for a couple
seconds as if I was listening to somebody speak, but in reality I was
listening to the phone ring, hoping William would answer. “Sure. Yeah.”
William finally picked up, and my heart leaped in my chest.
“Paxton?” My stomach dropped. Crap! I thought I hit the button to call
William. But I had accidentally called Lane.
“Yes, that’s right,” I said. “I’m walking down third street, a couple
miles away from the diner. Sure I’ll wait right here for you to pick me up.”
“Uh. Do you have a split personality or something?” Lane asked.
“You just broke up with me and now you want me to pick you up?”
“Yes. That sounds great. I’ll see you soon.” I lowered my phone, but
I didn’t hang up. I looked back at Officer Daily. “My ride will be here any
minute.”
Officer Daily stared at me, a dark expression on his face. I took
another step back, distancing myself from the police cruiser. I turned to
look down the street, waiting for Lane to show up. I wished that the
businesses nearby were still open so that I could run inside one of them.
“Who’s picking you up?” Officer Daily asked.
“Lane,” I replied, then I checked my phone to see if he was still on
the call with me, but the screen was dark. He had hung up.
 “Are you sure you want to get into a car with him?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He smiled crookedly. “I overheard your argument back at the diner.
It sounded like you broke up with him.”
“We’re still friends.”
Officer Daily chuckled.
Why did he think that was funny?
“Not two minutes after you left, Lane was flirting with another girl.”
He glanced back in the direction of the diner. “They left that place together.
I don’t think he’s coming to get you.” He chuckled again.
I had no idea if Officer Daily was telling me the truth, but I did
question whether Lane would come to get me. He didn’t seem like he
wanted to when I talked to him on the phone.
I scanned the street, searching for someone to help me. I had to get
away from Officer Daily. Something was off about him. Any normal person
would have driven away by now, but he wouldn't leave, and I was starting
to get scared.
A car door slammed shut, and I turned to see where the noise had
come from. I realized it wasn’t a door. It was a trunk. A girl with long hair
was walking around to the driver’s side of her car.
I started running toward her. “Hey!” I called, frantically. “Hey,
wait!”
She turned to look.
“Please! I need a ride!” I could still hear the hum of the police
cruiser’s engine behind me.
The girl stood next to her car with the door open, but she waited.
She didn’t leave. The street light helped brighten her face. She was wearing
a lot of makeup. Her fake eyelashes were a couple inches long. She was
wearing high heels and a skin tight dress. She looked like she was on her
way to a nightclub or maybe to a bar, but she didn’t look old enough to
drink.
“Please. I gotta get away from that man.” I reached for the
passenger side door and pulled the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The door
was locked.
“You’re running away from a cop?” the girl asked.
“Yes! He’s a pervert. Please give me a ride. If you don't, he'll keep
following me.”
 She turned and looked at the police cruiser. “I don’t want any
trouble. Especially from a cop.”
“I haven’t broken the law or anything. I swear I haven’t. He’s just a
creep, trying to pick me up.”
The girl’s red painted lips twisted as she studied my face. “All right.
Get in.” She pressed the unlock button, and I yanked open the door. There
was another girl sitting in the front passenger seat. She didn’t say anything
to me. She just climbed into the back seat, and I hopped in.
The engine sputtered to life. This car had definitely seen better days.
The seat was stained and torn. The radio was missing from the dash. A huge
crack ran along the windshield.
“Put your seatbelt on,” the girl behind the wheel said, pulling away
from the curb.
My pulse spiked when I turned to look out the back window. “He’s
following us.”
The girl in the backseat spun around. “Who? The cop?”
“Yes. He’s my friend’s dad. He was offering me a ride home, and he
wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
The girl in the backseat shifted her attention to the driver. “What
kind of mess did you get us into, Victoria?”
“I’m sorry.” Victoria’s hands gripped the steering wheel. “I just
wanted to help her.”
Blue lights began flashing. The girl in the backseat cursed, while
Victoria pulled over to the side of the road, tears swelling in her eyes. “Why
is he pulling me over? I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t speeding!”
Victoria was breathing way too fast as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Stop crying!” the girl in the backseat snapped, glaring at Victoria.
She opened up a large purse and started rummaging through it. “This is just
what I need,” she grumbled, “a psychotic cop causing me problems.” She
pulled out a switchblade, and my heart leapt into my throat.
What was she thinking? She had better put that away. “What’s that
for?”
Victoria’s eyes widened. “Put that away, PJ! Do you want to get us
thrown in jail?”
PJ held the switchblade out to me. “Here. It’s for your protection.
Just in case.”
 I shook my head. “I don’t want it.” There was no way I was
touching that thing.
“Put it away, PJ!” Victoria gasped, reaching for a napkin to wipe her
tears. “He’s coming!” She began rolling down her window.
PJ leaned over the seat, holding it out to me. But I still refused to
take it.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Paxton.”
PJ showed me how the switchblade worked, then she dropped it into
my lap, a split-second before Officer Daily arrived at the window. I slipped
it into the back pocket of my jeans, feeling even more anxious now. I didn’t
want it!
Officer Daily had a flashlight in his hand. He shined it into the car,
blinding me with it. “Hello, ladies.”
“Hello, Officer,” Victoria’s voice shook.
Was I really going to need this switchblade, I wondered. Or was
Officer Daily going to leave me alone? I obviously didn’t need a ride home
anymore. There was no reason for him to be here, hounding me.
“What do you want?” I asked him, my heart beating so hard it felt
like it would burst out of my chest. “Why are you following me?”
“I’m on the clock and doing my job,” he said, pointing his flashlight
in Victoria’s eyes. “You have a tail light out. I’ll need your license and
registration.”
“Oh, it is? I’m so sorry, Officer. I had no idea the light was out.”
Victoria reached across the seat for her purse.
“Maybe you should just let her go with a warning,” I said, hoping he
would realize how crazy he’s behaving.
“License and registration,” he repeated again, while Victoria
searched through her purse.
I tapped the screen of my phone to dial Dottie’s number, putting it
on speaker. It rang once, and then she picked up.
“Hey, Paxton,” she said. “I’m about a block away from your house.
Are you there already?”
“I’m not at home,” I replied, looking directly at her father.
A sly grin emerged on his face. “Hi honey,” he called out.
“Dad?” Dottie sounded surprised and confused.
 Officer Daily reached through the window, over Victoria, and ripped
the phone out of my hand. He tapped the screen, taking it off speaker, and
put the phone to his ear. “Yes, honey. It’s me. I pulled over the car Paxton is
in,” he said, casually. “Just doing my job.” He paused for a few seconds.
I wondered what Dottie was saying to him. Did she know that her
father was a psycho? Did she have any clue?
“Okay, honey. I’ll see you later.” He tapped the screen to hang up,
then slipped my phone into the front pocket of his shirt.
“Excuse me,” I gasped. “That’s my phone. Give it back!”
“You’ll get it back, as soon as I check out this license and
registration.” He turned and walked back to the police cruiser.
Now I was about to cry. “What am I going to do?” I asked, tears
pricking my eyes. “How am I going to get a cop to leave me alone? What is
he doing, taking my phone? He has no right to do that!”
Victoria wiped the tears from her eyes. “I hope I don’t get into
trouble.”
“Stop whining!” PJ snapped. “Both of you!”
Her reaction surprised me. Why was she getting mad at us? We
weren’t the problem. Officer Daily was, and he took my phone!
“Listen to me!” she snapped. “Don’t act like you’re afraid of him.
That’s exactly what he wants. He wants to scare you. He wants to have
power over you. He feeds off of it.”
Her words hit me hard. Maybe she was right. If I let Officer Daily
see me cry, he’d know that I was weak, and he might do something worse. I
wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket, hoping to erase any evidence
of tears.
PJ pointed out the back window. “The man clearly is not right in the
head. You can’t treat him like a normal cop. Tears won’t work on him. And
flirting, that would be one of the worst mistakes you could ever make. Keep
calm. No matter what. Understand?”
I nodded, wondering how PJ could be so wise when she was so
young? She was probably my age. Eighteen. How did she know how to
handle a cop? How did she know how to analyze a person’s behavior so
quickly with such precision? It amazed me how she managed to stay so cool
and calm in a stressful situation.
PJ was wearing high heels and a tight dress too, just like Victoria.
But she was much prettier, and her makeup looked a lot less trashy. PJ’s
facial features were symmetrical, the precise size to fit her face. Her brown
hair was long, straight, and silky. She looked like she could be a model.
“Here he comes!” Victoria sat up straighter. “I hate cops. They make
me so nervous.” She rolled down her window again.
Officer Daily handed back her license and registration. “I’ll let you
go with a warning.”
“Thank you so much, Officer,” Victoria said with a sigh.
“Your license says that you’re from Michigan. What are you doing
down here in West Virginia?”
“Oh, uh. . . .” Victoria struggled to slide her license back into her
wallet. She couldn’t get it to fit into the sleeve. “I’m here on vacation.”
Officer Daily placed his hands on the car door. “Vacation?”
“Yes, sir. Vacation.” She finally managed to slide her license inside
and snapped her wallet shut.
“How long have you been here?”
What was going on? Why was he asking her so many questions?
“Uh. . . .” she stared through the windshield, thinking. “A week?”
She sounded unsure.
“A week?” he repeated. “Are you sure about that?”
“Maybe two. Yes, I think two weeks.”
“Do you have any family living here?”
Victoria shook her head. “No. No family.”
I wanted to say something to him, but I wasn’t sure if I should.
Victoria had done nothing wrong. Why was he grilling her with questions?
“Your license says you’re twenty-one.” He peered through the
window. “You don’t look like you’re twenty-one.”
Victoria forced a smile. “I look young for my age.”
I had no idea who Victoria and PJ were. Was there a legitimate
reason he was asking Victoria so many questions? Had she done something
wrong? Did she have a criminal record? Then an unsettling thought entered
my mind. Oh no! Were Victoria and PJ prostitutes?
Officer Daily’s eyes shifted to me. “Here’s your phone.” He smiled.
“I think the battery is dead.”
I pressed the button to power it back on, but nothing happened. The
battery couldn’t be dead, I thought to myself. It almost had a full charge.
“What did you do to my phone?”
“Like I said, the battery must be dead.”
 “You broke it. You broke my phone.”
He leaned onto the door, his eyes boring through me. “I didn’t break
your phone. It stopped working after I hung up with my daughter.” He
cocked his head. “She won’t be coming over to your house after all. She has
chores to do.”
“Chores?” I repeated.
“Yes, chores. If she doesn’t get her chores done, then she can’t go
camping tonight.”
His eyes shifted to PJ. “What’s your name?”
“Pamela,” she replied.
“Well, Pamela, you and your friend Victoria look like you’re dressed
up to go out. Where are you headed tonight?”
My stomach twisted, a bundle of nerves. Did Officer Daily think
they were prostitutes too?
“We’re on our way to the airport,” PJ replied. “We’ve got a flight to
New York to catch.”
He turned to look at me again. “Are you going to New York with
them?”
No way. I wasn’t getting on a plane with them. I shook my head.
“No.” PJ responded, drawing his attention again. “Just me and
Victoria. We’re dropping Paxton off at her house on the way.”
Officer Daily pointed at me. “Make sure that when you get home to
lock your doors.” A sinister look entered his eyes. “I wouldn’t want
anything bad to happen to you while your parents are out of town.”
I swallowed hard. His words sounded like a threat. I did not want to
be home alone. It was a good thing that I had plans to go camping tonight.
He stood up and took a step back from the car. “Don’t forget. The
tail light.”
“I won’t,” Victoria replied. “Thank you, Officer.”
The police cruiser drove past us and sped off down the road. I tried
again to turn on my phone, but nothing happened. “He broke it,” I said.
“The jerk broke my phone.”
Victoria let out a huge breath. “Oh, I was so nervous.”
PJ rested her arms on the back of my seat. “You haven’t seen the last
of him. I guarantee it. I wouldn’t stay at your house alone tonight, if I were
you. He basically told you that he’s coming over.”
 Victoria nodded in agreement. “Oh, yeah. He definitely is. When he
comes knocking on your door, I bet he’ll say that he’s . . . checking up on
you.” She held up her fingers, making quotation marks in the air.
“Well, I don’t plan on staying there tonight. I’m just gonna go home,
get my things, and then head out. I’m going camping tonight.”
“With his daughter?” PJ asked.
“Yeah.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I’d be careful around her, if I were you.”
“Yeah, no joke. I bet she’s got a screw loose too.” Victoria pulled
out onto the road, driving slower than the speed limit, both hands on the
wheel.
I hoped they were wrong about Dottie. “Are you really going to
New York tonight?” I asked.
PJ made a face. “No. We’re going to a bar.”
Maybe they weren’t prostitutes. Maybe I jumped to the wrong
conclusion.
When Victoria pulled up in front of my house and parked next to the
curb, everything was eerily dark. The nearby street light was out, and I had
forgotten to turn on the porch light before I left. I looked at the driveway
and saw my car sitting there by itself. Nobody was home.
Cheryl’s house next-door was dark too, her car was gone from the
driveway. I remembered she had mentioned something about driving to her
parents’ house in Pennsylvania for their anniversary.
My other next-door neighbor, Mr. Hanson, was in his late seventies,
hard of hearing, and could barely walk. There were a lot of other houses on
my street, but I didn’t really know the people who lived there.
I hesitated before getting out of the car. Even though Officer Daily’s
police cruiser was nowhere in sight, I didn’t feel safe. What if he parked on
the other side of the block? He didn’t live that far from me either, and that
thought was extremely concerning.
Did Dottie know that something was wrong with her father? Did she
know that he harassed people? Had he done worse things than that, I
wondered.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” PJ’s voice interrupted my
thoughts.
“Yes. Would you?”
She unhooked her seatbelt. “Yeah. I’ll come.”
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter 29
Paxton

The Past. . . .

Victoria pulled down the visor to look in the mirror, a tube of red
lipstick in her hand. “I’ll wait in the car. I’ve gotta fix my makeup.”
Before PJ shut the car door, she adjusted the big purse on her
shoulder and turned back to Victoria. “If you hear a gunshot, that means
he’s in there, and I just killed him.”
The car door slammed shut. Was PJ joking? Did she really have a
gun in her purse?
She walked ahead of me as we cut through the grass on our way to the front
door. I was surprised at how fast she walked. Her high heels had to have
been sinking into the grass, but that didn’t seem to slow her down.
There was something familiar about PJ, and I couldn’t quite put my
finger on it. There was something about her personality and her poise that
made me feel like I had known her for a long time, even though we just
met.
While she stood there waiting for me to unlock the door. I noticed
her posture. She didn’t slouch. Her chin was lifted, shoulders back. We
were about the same height and build, but she carried herself differently,
like a ballerina.
Then it dawned on me why she seemed so familiar. She reminded
me of Layla. Layla was also overly confident. Layla had good posture. She
always seemed to have her nose up in the air. There always seemed to be a
lot going on in Layla’s head, a lot that she didn’t share with people. I could
see it when I looked into her eyes, and the same was true about PJ.
I opened the door and PJ followed me into the house. She flicked on
the lights before I could.
“Nice house,” she said, scanning the living room. All of the
furniture had been picked out by my stepfather. He was a control freak in
every way. He even picked out my mother’s clothes.
I walked into the dining room and turned on another light. PJ
stopped in front of the china hutch, admiring the crystal glassware. My
stepfather had very expensive taste.
The large purse hanging on PJ’s shoulder didn’t look cheap, and
neither did her high heels or her dress. She kept her purse pulled in tightly
to her body. Did she really have a gun in there, or was she just joking?
“Who all lives here?” she asked as she followed me into the kitchen,
her heels striking the tile floor loudly. “Do you have any brothers or
sisters?”
“It’s just me, my mom and my stepfather.”
She ran her fingers along the granite countertop. “Well, it looks like
there aren’t any intruders in your house.”
We hadn’t checked the entire house yet. “Do you mind coming
upstairs with me, so I can pack real quick?”
“Sure. Victoria won’t mind waiting.”
“Are you and Victoria sisters?” I asked as we climbed the stairs.
“No.”
“You seem really close. Have you been best friends for a while?”
“It feels like we’ve known each other forever. But it’s only been a
couple months.”
“How’d you meet?” I asked, glancing back at her.
“Totally by chance. My car had broken down on the side of the
freeway, and she pulled over to help.”
I headed down the hallway toward my bedroom. There wasn’t much
I needed to pack, just enough for one night.
PJ casually looked through the clothes in my closet while I started
gathering my things and stuffing them into a backpack.
“I love your style,” she said, admiring one of my sweaters. Then she
walked over to the bulletin board hanging on the wall next to my bed. She
pointed at a picture of me and Lane. We were sitting on a park bench
together, shoulder to shoulder, fingers laced together, smiles on our faces.
We looked so happy. How could I have been so wrong about him?
“Who is this?” she asked.
“That’s Lane.” I didn’t want to explain what had happened or why
we broke up.
PJ pointed at another picture. “Who’s this?”
It was a picture of Lane and Layla. “That’s Lane’s sister, Layla.”
I didn’t know why I even had that up there. I wasn’t in the picture.
Then I realized that I did know why. I had put it up so that Lane would see
it. I wanted him to think that I liked Layla, even though I didn’t, and it
wasn’t for a lack of trying.
From the moment I first met Layla, she acted like she had a grudge
against me. She frequently made snide remarks and gave me backhanded
compliments. My friend, Kye, had a theory about why Layla treated me this
way. Kye thought that Layla was jealous. Kye said that I was prettier and
that made Layla feel insecure.
Whatever Layla’s reasons were for treating me like crap, there was
nothing I could do about it. Mostly I just ignored her rudeness and hoped
she would eventually learn to like me. But I kind of blew that chance when
I kissed William. I doubted she would ever get over that.
Even though I knew Layla already had a grudge against me, I did
not expect her to show up on my front porch with a switchblade. . . . I
reached into my back pocket. This was yet another reason why PJ reminded
me of Layla. I held the switchblade out to her. “PJ. Here.”
She waved it away. “It’s yours. You keep it. That crazy cop’s still
out there. You might need it.”
“Thanks,” I said, slipping it back into my pocket, hoping she was
wrong. But I wanted to be prepared anyway.
She pointed at another photo. It was a group shot of me with all my
friends. We were holding our compound bows and had just done some
target practice. William’s father took the picture. We were in his backyard,
which was the perfect place to practice. He didn’t have any neighbors
closeby.
“Who are they?” PJ asked.
“That’s Layla and Lane again,” I said, pointing. “And that’s
William, Kye, and this is Dottie.”
PJ nodded. “The cop’s daughter.”
“Yeah.” I pulled my phone out of my other pocket and tossed it onto
the dresser, still angry that her dad had broken it.
I looked at the photo again. Everyone was smiling, except for
Dottie. I scanned the other photos on the bulletin board. Dottie hadn’t
smiled in any of them.
It wasn’t like she was trying to hide bad teeth. Her teeth were
straight and white. I wondered why she never smiled. Was it because of her
dad? Was he hard to live with? Did he treat her like my stepfather treated
me? The only thing she ever mentioned about him was that he was a cop.
 PJ opened up my jewelry box and started picking through my
collection of rings and bracelets. It was all costume jewelry, nothing
particularly valuable or sentimental. She held up a mood ring. “This is
cute.”
“You can have it.” I figured I should give it to her since she gave me
her switchblade. Although I was sure the ring didn’t cost anywhere near
what the switchblade cost.
“Thanks.” It fit the same finger on her as it did me. She sat down on
my bed. “Does Dottie ever invite you over to her house when her father’s
home?”
“No.” I had only gone to her house a couple times, and we didn’t
stay for very long.
PJ arched an eyebrow. “Yep. She knows he’s nuts. She’s been trying
to hide it from you.”
PJ got up and walked over to the bookshelf. It was packed full of my
cheerleading photographs and trophies from gymnastics competitions.
My mom had signed me up for gymnastics soon after my father
went to jail. She knew I had a natural ability to tumble. I was always doing
cartwheels and handstands. She wanted me to develop my talents. And I
did. Then when I entered eighth grade, I got involved with cheerleading and
was too busy to go to gymnastics anymore.
I was starting to feel embarrassed about all my awards on display.
Was I the one who put all this stuff up? Was it my mom? I couldn’t
remember.
PJ sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes pouring over every inch of
my room. I couldn't read her expression. Did she think I was a privileged,
stuck up snob? If she only knew what my life was really like and how I
cried myself to sleep most nights after my stepfather finished yelling at me
and my mom just watched him do it. She never did anything to stop him.
My stepfather always blamed me when the house had the slightest
bit wrong with it, like when it was dusty, or when the laundry wasn’t done,
or when the bathroom towels weren’t straight. He got mad at me for parking
crooked in the driveway and for having a dirty car. He always found
something to yell at me about.
“I used to have a bedroom like this,” PJ said.
She did? I thought she was going to make some kind of snide
remark about how privileged and pretentious I was.
 “But that was a long time ago,” she said, running her hand along the
bedspread.
There was a hint of sadness in her voice. Should I ask her what had
happened, or why she didn’t have a bedroom like mine anymore? Maybe
her parents got divorced. Or maybe they lost their job. PJ probably didn’t
want to talk to me about her past, and I didn’t feel like I should pry.
She picked up a teddy bear from off the bed. I’d had it since I was a
baby. My stepfather wanted me to get rid of it. He told me I wasn’t a child
anymore. That was the night that he informed me about his plans to cut me
off. He told me that after I graduated, he would be kicking me out. He gave
me this news on my eighteenth birthday, instead of giving me a gift.
Then he said, “And don’t expect me to pay for your college. That’s
not my responsibility. It’s your father’s.” He picked up my car key and
waved it in front of my face. “Your car stays with me too. It’s in my name.”
The only reason he bought me the car was so that my mom wouldn’t
have to drive me around. He tried to keep us apart as much as possible.
My mom never stood up to him. She never even tried to leave. She
said she’d rather stay with an abusive man who provides for her, than be
alone. She enjoyed the perks of traveling with my stepfather, going to
exotic places, fancy restaurants, and owning expensive things. She cared
more about money than she cared about me.
“Where are your parents?” PJ asked.
“They’re out of town on a business trip.”
“How long will they be gone?”
“Till next Saturday.”
PJ raised her eyebrows. I knew what she was thinking. That was a
long time to be alone in this house with Officer Daily out on the streets.
“Does your house have an alarm system?”
“No.”
PJ tossed the stuffed animal back onto the bed. My backpack was
full and I had already slung it over my shoulder. She walked out of my
bedroom, and I followed.
“Is there a gun in the house?” she asked, her hand gliding along the
banister as she walked down the stairs.
“No.” I had never handled a gun before. But if there was one, I
wouldn’t hesitate to use it if I had to.
“That’s unfortunate.” PJ headed in the direction of the front door.
 “Hold on,” I said, grabbing my keys. I flicked on the porch light.
“Can I borrow your phone?” I wanted to call Kye before I drove to her
house. I was running a little late and wondered if my friends were still there
waiting for me.
PJ fished her phone out of her huge purse and handed it to me. My
finger hovered over the dial pad, but there was a problem. I hadn’t
memorized Kye’s phone number. I hadn’t memorized any of my friends’
numbers or my parents’ numbers. They were all programmed and stored in
my cell phone, which Officer Daily broke.
I handed the phone back. “Actually, never mind.”
I followed PJ out the door and locked it behind me. When I saw my
car sitting in the driveway, lit up by the porch light, goosebumps raised on
the back of my neck. All four tires were flat!
“Officer Daily strikes again,” PJ said, arms folded across her chest.
Did he do this? Or did Layla do it?

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 Chapter 30
Paxton

The Past. . . .

Victoria, PJ, and I stood in my driveway, staring at the flat tires. Victoria
swore that she hadn’t seen anyone tampering with the tires, and I believed
her. She seemed just as surprised as I was. Plus she had parked on the street.
The headlights on her vehicle were shining in the opposite direction.
Were the tires already flat when we got here, or did it happen after, I
wondered. It had been so dark when we first arrived that I hadn’t noticed
anything strange about my car.
PJ had already examined the tires and showed me where they had
been slashed with a knife.
There were two people who could have done this: Layla and Officer
Daily.
I felt a little dizzy. In and out, I told myself, trying to gain control of
my breathing and not panic.
“You’re going to need four new tires,” Victoria said, chewing loudly
on some gum. “And it looks like you’re not going anywhere.”
“Yes, she is,” PJ said. “She’s coming with us.”
I did not want to hang out with them tonight. My nerves were shot.
“Can you just drop me off at my friend’s house?”
“Sure.” Victoria gestured for me to follow as she started down the
driveway. “Come on. Let’s get outta here before that lunatic cop shows up.”
PJ muttered something under her breath, and I was pretty sure she
said, “He’s already here.”
“What did you just say?” My eyes darted around as a chill ran down
my spine. I scanned the trees and the cars parked on the street and in the
driveways of my neighbors’ houses. There were plenty of places for him to
hide in the dark.
“Let’s get out of here,” PJ said in a low voice, her lips barely
moving.
I climbed into the backseat and PJ sat in the front passenger seat, her
attention on the side mirror. She watched the reflection of the road behind
us as we drove away. “I saw someone,” she finally said. “I don’t know if it
was the cop, but there was definitely someone hiding behind the bushes
next to your driveway. I saw their shadow move.”
My stomach dropped. “Are you serious?”
“I know what I saw.”
Victoria punched her foot down on the gas. “Normally I’d say we
should call the police, but not in this case.”
“Yeah, no doubt,” PJ agreed.
I tried to keep an eye out for Officer Daily’s police cruiser and for
Layla’s car, while I gave Victoria directions to Kye’s house.
Headlights came and went on the road, but it was so dark out, I
wasn’t able to determine if a car was following us.
PJ turned around to look at me. “Is there anyone else, other than
Officer Daily, who has a grudge against you? Could someone else have
flattened your tires?”
“Layla.” I went on to explain what had happened with me and
William and how she flipped out about it.
“I’ve been in your shoes before,” Victoria admitted, slowing down
at a red light. She stared at me through the rear-view mirror. “You shouldn’t
feel bad about taking another girl’s boyfriend. I never do.” She chuckled.
“Is there anyone else it could have been?” PJ asked. “Maybe Dottie?
Are you sure she’s not a psycho like her father? I mean, I could tell
something was off with her just by looking at her picture. She has weird
eyes.”
Dottie had one eye that was slightly lazy, but that didn’t mean
anything.
“Have you ever stolen her boyfriend?” Victoria laughed like she
thought it was the most hilarious thing to do to someone.
“Not exactly,” I replied.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” PJ asked.
I felt like such a horrible person, admitting all the things I had done
wrong. “It is possible that Dottie’s mad at me, because of William. She has
a crush on him, but he would never be interested in her. I just don’t think
she realizes that.”
“Again. . . .” Victoria said, looking at me through the rear-view
mirror, “. . . I know what you’re going through. I’ve been in the same boat.
It’s not our fault that we’re hot.” She laughed.
 “What about your boyfriend, Lane,” PJ asked, interrupting
Victoria’s laughter.
“He doesn’t know about me and William.” I explained the deal I had
made with Layla, how she agreed not to tell him if I agreed not to call the
cops on her.
PJ locked eyes with me, a serious look on her face. “You do realize
that this one guy, William, sure has caused a whole lot of problems for
you.”
It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I never should have let him come
inside my house last night, and I never should have kissed him. But then I
realized that kissing William was also a good thing. If Lane hadn’t blown
up at William for cheating on his sister, then I wouldn’t have discovered his
abusive nature. That could have remained hidden for years.
“Tell me more about Dottie,” PJ said, cutting through my thoughts.
“Don’t tell me the good stuff. Tell me the weird, the strange, and the bad.”
I thought that was an odd request. But PJ seemed like the type of
person who liked to analyze people. Maybe she was just intrigued.
It didn’t take me long to come up with some of the bad things about
Dottie. Those were the first thoughts that came to my mind.
“One time, when Dottie and I were playing a card game, she thought
that she was about to win, but then I put down a winning hand and she
accused me of cheating. I had already won the last three games in a row.
She got so upset that she flipped the table over. Then she apologized
profusely and started crying, begging me to forgive her.”
“And you forgave her, because you’re a nice person,” PJ said.
“I felt bad for her,” I said with a shrug. “She was crying.”
Victoria gave me a knowing look through the rear-view mirror,
taking her eyes off the road for way too long. “Sounds like she’s crazy to
me.”
“Lots of people get upset when they lose,” I said. “It doesn’t mean
that they’re crazy.”
PJ shifted in her seat to look at me. “Does Dottie have any
obsessions?”
“Oh, that’s a good question.” Victoria nodded.
Dottie definitely had an obsession, but I thought it was harmless.
“She’s a huge fan of anything that has to do with vampires. Books, film,
clothing, you name it.”
 Victoria’s brows furrowed. “I like vampire stuff. Does that mean I’m
crazy too?”
PJ rolled her eyes. “No, Victoria. It’s the combination of behavioral
traits that I’m looking at here, not just one specific thing.” PJ focused her
attention on me again. “Is she obsessed with you?”
My heart skipped a beat. Something deep down inside my soul was
telling me that Dottie did have an obsession with me. I just hadn’t realized
it until now. I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Dottie has come to all of the
games I’ve cheered at, but I just thought she had a lot of school spirit. I
didn’t think she had come to watch me.”
“What else?” PJ prompted.
“Yeah, what else?” Victoria chimed in as she swerved to pass a
slower car.
“Whenever my parents are out of town, which is a lot, she asks if
she can spend the night. She always says, ‘that way you don’t have to be
alone in that big house of yours.’ It never mattered if it was a school night,
either. She still wanted to sleep over. And I didn’t mind. She was fun to
have around. She didn’t get on my nerves or anything.”
“Except for when you beat her at cards,” Victoria giggled.
PJ sat there scrolling through her phone, and I wondered if she was
still listening to me. Her eyes suddenly flicked up, meeting mine. “Did
Dottie ever start dressing like you or copying you?”
Again, my heart did a weird fluttering thing. I hadn’t pieced these
things together--I hadn’t realized that Dottie had an obsession with me.
“When she spent the night, she’d borrow my clothes. She used to ask for
permission at first, but then she just started taking them without asking.”
Victoria’s mouth gaped open. “I like to share clothes too. Does that
mean I’m obsessed with you, PJ?”
PJ held her hand up, right in Victoria’s face. “Stop it!” she said,
irritated. “This isn’t about you. This is about Dottie and Paxton.
Understand?”
Victoria nodded. She kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other
in her mouth as she started chewing on her fingernails.
“Anyway,” PJ said, rolling her eyes. “What else did Dottie copy?
Did she do her makeup like yours? Her hair?”
Then another realization hit me. I finally understood why Dottie got
upset when I changed my hair color from red, to black and purple. “Dottie
had colored her hair red like mine used to be,” I explained, “but then I
decided to change my color to black with purple highlights, and when she
saw it, she looked like she was about to cry. I asked her what was wrong,
and she said that she had something in her eye. When she finally regained
her composure, she asked me if I deliberately changed my hair color,
because I didn’t want to look like her. I explained that I had made the
appointment to change my color weeks in advance. It had nothing to do
with her.”
Victoria sped through a yellow light. “Did she change her hair
again? Is it black and purple, too?”
“She kept talking about how much she liked my new hair color, and
then she mentioned something about getting hers done like mine. I asked
her why she was going to change her color when she had just dyed her hair
red. She ignored my question and instead informed me that her favorite
colors were black and purple. She probably would have changed her hair
color by now, but she’s still in the process of saving up money.”
PJ looked down at her phone. “Did Dottie ever tell you where she
and her dad used to live before they moved here?”
Dottie never talked much about her life before she moved to West
Virginia. But I did remember the first time I saw the area code of her phone
number. I had never seen that number combination before, and I asked her
where it was from. “Loveland, Ohio,” I said, leaning over the seat to watch
PJ search the internet on her phone. “Officer Daily’s first name is Dustin. I
don’t know if that matters.”
PJ’s fingers skated across her phone. I had no idea what she was
searching for.
“Bingo,” she said, tapping a link. “Let me see if this is important.”
She read through the news article silently, while I continued to give Victoria
directions to Kye’s house.
PJ clicked on another link and read through that article too. We were
almost to Kye’s house, and PJ was still searching and reading, so I told
Victoria to pull over into a grocery store parking lot, instead of taking me
straight to Kye’s house.
“This is more serious than I thought,” PJ finally said, eyebrows
raised. “In Loveland, Ohio, three teenage girls went missing last year, and
they still haven’t been found.”
 She handed me her phone to show me the article. I read through it,
hoping these disappearances had nothing to do with Dottie or Officer Daily.
Victoria read through the article on her phone too. She kept gasping
and saying, “So sad! It’s just so sad!”
After I finished reading, I handed the phone back to PJ, still trying
to process all this information. Three girls were missing and nobody knew
where they were.
“This isn’t proof of any wrongdoing by the crazy cop or his
daughter, but it’s enough to make you wonder if there’s a connection,” PJ
said.
I did wonder if there was a connection. Should I be concerned about
Dottie? Should I stay away from her?

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 Chapter 31
Paxton

The Past. . . .

Victoria pulled up in front of Kye’s house. William’s brother’s truck

was parked in the driveway. He frequently borrowed it to go camping,
because his 280z didn’t have enough space to store things.
“Thank you for the ride. It was nice meeting you both. I really
appreciate all the help you gave me tonight.” I clicked the button on my
seatbelt and grabbed my backpack.
After I got out of the car, PJ leaned forward, making eye contact
with me. “We’ll wait until you wave to us before we leave. That’ll be the
signal that everything’s fine.”
I didn’t think they needed to wait for me. But I agreed anyway,
figuring PJ was trying to be helpful. “Sure. I’ll signal to you when it’s okay
to leave.”
Victoria’s car remained parked next to the curb as I walked up the
driveway. I planned on waving to them as soon as Kye opened the front
door.
I pressed the doorbell and waited. Several seconds went by. I was
about to press the doorbell again, but then I heard the deadbolt unlock. The
door swung open, and I saw William and Kye standing there. Then Dottie
appeared. She had a weird expression on her face. She did not look happy
to see me.
“Paxton,” Kye said with a heavy exhale. “Where have you been?
We’ve been trying to get a hold of you. We’ve been calling and texting.”
I hadn’t received any calls or texts, thanks to Officer Daily. My eyes
slid to Dottie. “My phone is broken.”
William nodded toward the street. “Who’s car is that?”
“It’s an Uber,” I lied.
“How did you break your phone?” Kye asked. “Did you drop it?”
“I don’t know how it got broken,” I said, looking at Dottie.
“Oh,” Kye said, a sympathetic frown on her face. “I hate when that
happens.” She turned to look at Dottie. “Did you hear back from your dad
yet?”
Dottie checked her phone. “He said he’ll meet us at the campsite.”
Goosebumps pricked my arms. “Why is your dad going to the
campsite?”
“I forgot my bag, so he’s gonna bring it to me.”
Wililam motioned for me to come in. I took a step back. I did not
want to see Officer Daily again. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
“Sorry. I can’t go tonight. You guys have fun though.”
“What? Why not?” William asked.
“I’ve got other plans.” I turned to walk away, and cut across the
grass, heading straight for Victoria’s car, grateful they hadn’t left yet.
PJ opened the door.
“Dottie’s father will be at the campsite,” I said as I climbed into the
backseat. “I’m not going camping anymore.”
“Yikes!” Victoria shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the
curb. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to go either.” The car picked up
speed rapidly.
After some discussion, Victoria and PJ decided to cancel their plans
and hang out with me instead. They said I could stay at the hotel with them.
“The couch pulls out into a bed,” Victoria said. “You can sleep there.”
During the remainder of the drive, PJ asked me more questions
about Lane.
“I used to think that I would be with him forever,” I said as I stared
out the window, into the black sky. There were no stars out tonight, and the
moon was clouded over. “But then I discovered that he’s an abuser.” I
recounted what happened at the deli, how he shoved me and called me
stupid.
“Tell me more about Lane. What drew you to him in the first
place?” PJ rested her chin on the back of the seat.
“He’s the kind of guy who seems to have it all. Practically every girl
in school is infatuated with him.”
“Oh, really? I’ve gotta see a picture of this guy,” Victoria said,
speeding past a car.
“Is he rich?” PJ asked. “He looked like he was rich. I saw that
picture of him in your bedroom. He was standing in front of an expensive
car.”
 I knew I was possibly giving up financial security by breaking up
with Lane. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to be like my mom. “As soon as
he turns eighteen next week, he’ll have access to his trust fund. And from
what he’s told me, he’ll never have to work a day in his life. I don’t know if
he’s just exaggerating, but that’s what he told me.”
“A trust fund?” Victoria slammed on the brakes to avoid running a
red light. She whipped her head around, eyes wide. “Are you sure you want
to give all that up?”
PJ shot Victoria a look. “No amount of money is worth living in fear
of the man you’re with.” Her head swiveled back to me. “You deserve
better.”
I did deserve better. I wanted a better life.

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 Chapter 32
Paxton

The Past. . . .

“Make yourself at home” Victoria said, picking up a bottle of red nail

polish and shaking it.
PJ had already kicked off her high heels and changed out of her
dress. She put on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. She kept asking me
questions about my life, wanting to know about my parents.
For some reason, I felt comfortable opening up to PJ and Victoria,
which was weird. I was usually more guarded and private about my life.
But talking to them was easy, and I never felt like they were judging me.
I told them that my stepfather was abusive and that my mother was
an enabler. “She never defends me.”
Victoria brushed the red nail polish across her toenail, then dipped it
back in the bottle. “That’s why I left home. I felt like I had no other choice.
It was either escape from the abuse or stay and suffer. I chose to escape, and
I don’t regret it. Not one bit.”
A knock came to the hotel room door, making me jump.
PJ got up to answer it. “I ordered pizza.”
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I smelled it. I downed two
slices, like I was starving. “Is there anything in here to drink besides tap
water?” I asked.
PJ handed me some cash. “The vending machine is down the hall by
the elevator.”
“What do you guys want?” I asked, folding up the money and
stuffing it into my pocket.
“Get me a Diet Coke.” PJ said, reaching for another slice of pizza.
“Me too,” Victoria said, her mouth full.
I walked out of the room and as soon as the door shut, I remembered
that I didn’t bring a room key with me. But I was sure they would hear me
knock when I got back.
I inserted a five dollar bill into the vending machine. It spit it right
back out. I tried again. Still no luck. I straighten out the creases. Third
time’s the charm, isn’t it? Nope. The machine still wouldn’t take it.
The elevator doors were right behind me. I pressed the button,
deciding to try my luck on another vending machine. I took the elevator
down to the first floor. There were two vending machines just around the
corner from the front desk.
I was about to feed the five dollar bill into the slot, when I heard a
familiar deep voice. Goosebumps pricked my arms. No, I thought to myself.
It couldn’t be him.
Peeking around the corner, I caught sight of Officer Daily. He was
still wearing his uniform, and he was talking to the person at the front desk.
I heard him say something about a runaway. Then I heard him mention my
name, and my breath caught in my throat.
I couldn’t make it to the elevators without him seeing me, but I
could reach the stairs. I took off running. The flats I was wearing kept
slipping off my feet. I took them off and carried them the rest of the way.
When I made it back to the room, I was so out of breath I could
hardly speak. “He’s here!” I gasped. “He told the person at the front desk . .
. he said he’s looking for me!”
“PJ, what should we do?” Victoria paced the floor, biting her
fingernails.
PJ tossed a duffle bag onto the bed. “Pack everything up! We’re
getting out of here!”
“We don’t have time to pack!” I said, my heart racing. “He’ll be
here any minute!”
PJ and Victoria ignored my warning. They tossed everything onto
the beds, then stuffed it all into backpacks and duffle bags. They moved in
unison, like they had done this many times before.
I did what I could to help, but I felt like I was getting in the way.
The room was packed up in a matter of minutes. Victoria and PJ had even
changed their clothes. They were wearing jeans, dark jackets, and tennis
shoes.
PJ was about to hoist a backpack onto her shoulder when she saw
the shoes I was wearing. She dug through the backpack. “Here,” she said,
tossing a pair of tennis shoes and socks onto the floor. “Put these on.”
I had my own tennis shoes inside my backpack, but I didn’t argue
with her. I kicked off my flats and scrambled to put on the socks and shoes.
Then I realized my jacket was pink, much too bright to go unnoticed.
 PJ noticed this before I could say anything. “Victoria, get Paxton
another jacket,” she said. “And another shirt.”
Victoria tossed me a black jacket and a black shirt. I put them on
while PJ grabbed my flats, my jacket, and my shirt off the floor. She stuffed
it all into a backpack and zipped it shut.
PJ cracked the door open to make sure the hallway was clear. I laced
my arms through the straps of my backpack, my heart beating like a drum.
We ran for the stairs, then exited out of the hotel through one of the side
doors.
As we cut across the parking lot, we spotted Officer Daily’s police
cruiser.
“Wait here,” PJ whispered. She walked toward it, acting casual.
Then she turned back, looking in our direction and held up her hand.
“Let’s go,” Victoria whispered. We started running to her car. I
hopped into the backseat with the backpacks and duffle bags. Victoria
started up the car and began driving toward the exit.
“What about PJ?” I asked, worried we were going to leave her
behind.
Victoria concentrated on driving. “Keep an eye out for the crazy
cop,” she said, making a right turn. Then she hit the brakes, and the
passenger side door flung open. PJ jumped in, and Victoria sped off down
the road.
“Get down!” PJ told me.
I pushed a couple duffle bags onto the floor and laid down on the
backseat, trying to catch my breath. “Is he there?” I asked. “Did he see us?”
“I don’t know if he saw us.” PJ pointed to the left. “Turn down that
road.”
Victoria slowed down to make the turn. PJ continued instructing her
which way to go as we drove around on side streets and through residential
neighborhoods. I had no idea where we were headed. Then we got on the
freeway, but only for a few miles before we exited again.
PJ told Victoria to drop her off in front of Walmart. It was the only
store open this late at night. “I’ll be right back.” She slammed the door.
Victoria pulled around to a dimly lit area of the parking lot, right
between a motorhome and a van.
“What’s PJ doing in there?” I asked, watching through the window.
 “I don’t know.” Victoria kept the car running, but turned the
headlights off. “My mind doesn’t work like PJ’s.” Victoria began gnawing
on her fingernails. “PJ is probably one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.
Believe me, she knows what she’s doing.”
“How many times have you two had to make a quick getaway?” I
asked, keeping an eye on the activity around us in the parking lot, watching
for Officer Daily’s police cruiser.
“Lots of times. PJ is always running some kind of scam on
someone.”
My stomach dropped. “A scam?” I repeated.
“Yep.” Victoria picked up her phone, checking for messages.
“That’s how we make our money. We scam rich men.” Victoria spun around
in her seat to look at me, eyes wide.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, scanning the parking lot.
“Paxton. Please don’t tell PJ that I told you how we make money.
She might get mad.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, sighing. “I won’t tell her.”
“Thank you.” Again, she checked her phone. “Honestly, I really
don’t think PJ will mind that I told you what we do. You’re one of us now.”
“What do you mean, one of us?” I wasn’t a criminal. I didn’t steal
from people.
Victoria lifted a shoulder. “You have nowhere to go. You’re a
wanderer. Like us.”
“I’m not a wanderer.”
She shot me a look, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah you are. You can’t go
home. You can’t go to your friend’s house. You have no place to go.”
“I’ll go back home when my parents return from their trip.”
“I wouldn’t go back there if I were you,” she said, a genuine look of
concern on her face. “Your parents will go out of town again and then that
crazy cop will come after you. You do realize he’s not gonna stop, don’t
you?”
There had to be some way to make him stop. He was a cop, but that
didn’t mean that he was invincible. “I’ll go to the police station and talk to
the sheriff, or whoever his boss is.”
“What are you gonna tell him? That he’s harassing you?” Victoria
asked. “What proof do you have?”
I had no proof. It was my word against his.
 “Why would you want to stay around here anyway?” Victoria held
up her hand and started counting on her fingers. “You broke up with your
boyfriend. Crazy Dottie is in the process of turning your friends against
you. Your parents are abusive. The crazy cop is following you. He already
slashed the tires on your car.” She held up four fingers. “Am I missing
anything?”
I did not want to add to her list. I was already overwhelmed enough
as it was. Running away from my problems wasn’t a solution, though. That
would only make my problems worse, wouldn’t it?
“There she is.” Victoria turned the headlights back on and pulled
forward out of the parking space.
PJ climbed into the car with several grocery sacks. “That took way
longer than it should have,” she groaned in frustration.
“What did you buy?” I asked, wondering what was so important that
she had to make a Walmart run so late at night.
PJ pulled out a couple boxes of hair dye. “I think this is your color.”
Victoria took a look at the picture on the front of the boxes while
stopped at a red light. “Is this for me or for you?” she asked PJ.
“It’s for me,” PJ said.
What was going on? “I don’t understand. Why are you going to dye
your hair like mine?”
“It’s called bait-and-switch,” PJ explained. “We’ll get a room at a
cheap hotel so I can dye my hair. Then we’ll go back to your house. Officer
Daily will show up looking for you and--”
“And what?” I interrupted. “He’s got a gun.”
PJ raised her eyebrows. “I have a gun too.”
So she did have a gun. Was it inside her purse? Was it tucked inside
the waistband of her jeans?
PJ pointed to a hotel sign a couple blocks away. “There. Stop there.”
I was not going to take part in her crazy plan. It was too dangerous.
“PJ,” I said firmly. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to mess with a
cop.”
“Paxton . . .” Victoria glanced back at me. “This problem is not
going to go away on its own.” She pulled into the hotel parking lot. The
brakes let out a small squeal.
“Hey,” PJ said, her voice calm and controlled. “I want you to
remember something. Officer Daily might have already kidnapped three
girls, and who knows how many others.”
I didn’t know what Officer Daily’s reason was for following me, but
I refused to believe that he was involved in those kidnappings. “That’s
probably just a coincidence.”
PJ stared at me with her deep blue eyes. “Paxton, you of all people
know that evil exists in the world. You’ve lived with it almost your entire
life. So don’t underestimate what Officer Daily is capable of.”
I didn’t want to face reality. I wanted to run away from it.
As soon as we got in the hotel room, PJ headed to the bathroom with
the hair dye. She ripped the boxes open and tossed aside the instructions.
She applied most of the dye on her own and only needed Victoria’s help
with the parts of her hair that she couldn’t reach. I had a feeling she had
done this many times before.
While she was blow drying her hair, Victoria and I sat on the bed,
watching TV. But I couldn’t relax. I felt anxious, and I couldn’t think
straight.
“You seem nervous,” Victoria said to me. “You really shouldn’t feel
that way. PJ would never intentionally steer you wrong. The risks she takes
almost always pay off.”
“Almost always,” I repeated, giving her a doubtful look. “That’s
really comforting.”
Victoria was about to start biting her nails again, but then she saw a
pack of gum in one of the grocery sacks and grabbed it.
When PJ walked out of the bathroom, I couldn’t believe her
transformation. Her hair and makeup were done exactly like mine. And to
finish the look, she was wearing my shirt and my pink jacket.
Victoria’s eyes bounced between me and PJ. “You two could be
twins.”
That was an exaggeration. We looked like we could be sisters, not
twins.
“I don’t want to go back to my house,” I said, when PJ started
gathering her stuff together.
Her brows furrowed. “You can’t just keep running from him,
Paxton. Not unless you want to leave the state and go somewhere far away
from here.”
“Is that what you want to do?” Victoria asked. “Do you want to run
away? Because if you do, you can come with us. We have room in the
backseat of the car.” She offered me a piece of gum, but I shook my head.
“We were thinking of heading to Mexico. PJ has an old friend who lives
there.”
PJ fluffed her hair in the mirror, spraying it with hairspray. “His
name is Cory. And he’s not an old friend. He’s my ex.”
Victoria pulled her legs up onto the bed. “Cory’s our age, and he’s
already a multi-millionaire. I’ve never met him in person, but I’ve seen
pictures. He’s super hot.”
I watched PJ as she continued to fuss with her hair, an uneasy
feeling growing inside me. I couldn’t do this!

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 Chapter 33
PJ (Bellany)

Present Day. . . .

I was trapped underneath the truck, by myself, the container of fake

blood lying next to me. Layla was gone. She had taken off and left me here.
I hoped William’s father and brother would head back inside their house
soon so that I could leave too. I was so angry with Layla. I wanted to
strangle her.
“I know you’re under there!” a gravelly voice shouted as a set of
boots appeared again. “Come out nice and slow!”
Crap! “Okay, I’m coming out,” I said. I crawled out, then slowly stood
up. The light from the front porch shined so bright, it took a moment for my
eyes to adjust.
A bewildered expression was plastered on William’s father’s face.
He had a rifle in his hands but wasn’t pointing it at me. “Holy smokes! Are
you that missing girl? Are you Paxton?”
“No. My name’s PJ.”
William’s father was wearing a stained undershirt, and I couldn’t
figure out if his hair was greasy or if it was wet.
“You okay, pops?” a deep voice called, as a shadowy figure
appeared. When his face finally came into view under the light of the porch,
I saw an unmistakable resemblance to William, except he wasn’t as cute.
This had to be William’s brother, Josh. He was probably eight to ten years
older and had a full beard. His hairline was starting to recede.
Josh stared at me. “Are you Paxton?”
“My name’s PJ,” I said. “I’m so sorry I woke everybody up. I’m
here to see William.”
Josh moved a little closer, eyes scanning my face. “You sure you’re
not Paxton? You look just like her.”
“I know. I’ve heard that before. But I’m definitely not her.”
“That’s too bad,” Josh replied. “William would have been so happy
to see you, if you were Paxton. He’s been so upset ever since she went
missing.”
 William’s father scratched his fat stomach. “Why didn’t you just
ring the doorbell? What are you doing out here wandering around in the
dark? Were you the one who dumped all this stuff out of my truck?”
“I’m so sorry. It was an accident.”
They invited me inside. I expected they would wake up William, but
instead they both followed me into the living room. I sat on the couch,
feeling uneasy about the situation.
William’s father sat down in a recliner across from me, his rifle
propped up against the wall. It was right within his reach. Josh hovered by
the door, texting on his phone.
“Is William home?” I asked. His car was parked out front, so where
was he?

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 Chapter 34
PJ (Bellany)

Present Day. . . .

Josh continued to hover in front of the door, texting on his phone.

“William should be back soon.”
“How soon?” I asked, shifting forward, about to get up from the couch.
I felt like I should leave while I still had a chance.
The recliner squealed as William’s father kicked his feet up. “Oh, he
should be back any minute.”
“Well, I really need to get going. Can you just tell William that I
stopped by?” I stood up.
Josh cocked his head, eyes pouring over me. “Why do you look so
much like Paxton? Are you trying to be her or something?”
“Why would I try to be her?” I asked, approaching him, hoping he
would willingly move out of my way so that I could leave. I didn’t want to
knee him in the groin, but I would do it if I had to.
The chair squealed again. I felt William’s father’s presence right
behind me. I stepped aside so I could keep them both in my view. “I want to
leave now,” I said firmly, my heart pounding uncontrollably. I didn’t have a
knife. I didn’t have a gun. I wasn’t prepared for this.
They came toward me, and I started backing up, heading down the
hallway. Two against one. This wasn’t going to be easy.
William’s father palmed his greasy hair back. “You sure are pretty.”
I swallowed hard, wondering which one of them would come after
me first.
“Paxton was pretty too,” Josh said.
“She sure was,” William’s father agreed.
I held up my hand, signaling them to stop. “Don’t come any closer!”
Josh removed his phone from his back pocket. “I just got a text from
William. He said for you to wait here.”
“I don’t want to wait any longer. I want to leave.”
I heard the buzz of a small motor. It was coming from outside and
continued to grow louder. It sounded like an ATV. Was that William? I
wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or afraid.
The front door flew open, and I lunged for the door to my right,
twisting the doorknob and leaning into it, but the door wouldn’t budge. It
was locked.
Josh grabbed hold of my wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”
He hauled me back into the living room, tossing me onto the couch. My
hair fell in my face. I pushed it out of my eyes and saw William standing in
front of me, wearing his baseball cap, just like earlier.
“I want to leave,” I said through gritted teeth. “You can’t keep me
here.” I was about to get up, but Josh moved forward. I knew I couldn’t get
past the three of them.
“You’re a fraud,” William hissed.
“Excuse me?”
“You knew Paxton. I saw you two together!”
There was no point in trying to deny it. I believed that he was telling
me the truth. He had seen us. The question was, when? “So I knew her. That
doesn’t mean that I’m a fraud.”
“What do you want? Why are you here?” William asked.
I took a deep breath to calm down, hoping he would too. “I’m trying
to find out what happened to Paxton. But in order to do that, I need some
answers. Answers I was hoping you could give me.”
William lifted his baseball cap and palmed his hair out of his face.
“We’re all trying to find out answers,” he said, frustrated.
“When did you see me and Paxton together?” I asked.
“I saw you with Paxton at her house. There was some other girl
waiting in a car.” He pointed at me. “Your hair was different then. It was
brown.”
It all made sense now. “Was that you hiding in the bushes? Did you
slash the tires on Paxton’s car?”
He blinked once. “No.”
“Then what were you doing there? Why were you hiding?”
William’s hands spread apart. “I just wanted to check on Paxton.
She was upset when she left the diner. She and Lane had gotten into a huge
argument, and I wanted to make sure she was all right.”
“You still haven’t told me why you were hiding.”
“I didn’t want to park my car in front of her house. If Lane had seen
it, he would have flipped out. So I parked around the corner and walked.
When I got there, you two were coming out of the house. The tires were
already slashed. I didn’t want to get blamed for that, so I had to hide.”
“Are you telling me the truth?” I asked, studying his face for signs
of deception.
The corners of his mouth drew down, nothing but sadness in his
eyes. “I swear I didn’t slash the tires.”
The recliner squealed as William’s father rose to his feet, groaning.
“It’s late. I’m going to bed.” He picked up his shotgun and walked out of
the room.
Josh seemed to have lost interest in our conversation as well. He
flopped down into the recliner with his phone. He hadn’t looked up from
the screen in a while. I assumed he was playing some kind of game on it.
“Have you told anybody else that you knew Paxton?” William
asked. “Because I haven’t told anybody.”
“No. I figured it would be better if I didn’t. Less complicated.”
William took off his baseball cap and tossed it onto the coffee table.
“If you’re trying to find out who killed Paxton, then that means you think
Lane is innocent. You think he’s been framed.”
I shrugged. “Honestly, I don't know what to believe. If there was
some way that we could find Paxton’s body, don’t you think that would help
the police figure out what really happened to her?”
His eyes dropped to the floor. “How could that help?”
The front door banged, and Josh jumped out of the recliner. “Who’s
that?”
I wondered if it was Layla. Had she finally decided to come back for
me?
Josh looked through the peephole. “What’s he doing here? Who called
him?”
I struggled to see around Josh’s tall body as he opened the door. All I
saw was dark hair. Then I heard a familiar deep voice. Crap! It was Officer
Daily.
“What’s Dottie’s dad doing here?” William asked.
He was here for me. But how did he know I was here? “William,” I
motioned for him to come closer. “I don’t trust--” I stopped mid-sentence as
Officer Daily stepped into the living room.
“Hello,” he said with a smug smile. He showed me the set of cuffs
he was holding in his hands. “I’m here to pick you up.”
 My heart jumped into my throat. “I’m not going anywhere with
you!”
“If you’re refusing to come willingly, I’m gonna have to force you.”
“Are you arresting her?” William asked.
“This is private police business,” he said, sternly, getting the cuffs
ready.
“No, I’m not going--” he grabbed me by my wrist and spun me
around, slapping the cuffs on me. He moved so fast, I never had a chance.
“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me out the door. He pushed me up
against the police cruiser and patted me down. The only thing I had in my
pocket was my phone. He took it, then opened the back door and shoved me
inside.
Did he know who I was? Had he figured out my real identity? But
how? I had been so careful to cover my tracks. I had changed my
appearance and my name multiple times.
The police cruiser sped down the road so fast. I had to think of
something to make him stop, and let me go. But nothing came to mind. I
couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t concentrate.
When he made a left turn at the intersection, my heart skipped a
beat. “Where are you taking me?” We were not heading in the direction of
the police station. We were driving away from it.

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 Chapter 35
PJ (Bellany)

Present Day. . . .

Officer Daily tapped his finger on the steering wheel, watching me

through the rear-view mirror. “Where is your friend, Victoria?”
“Victoria?”
“Yes,” he said, coolly. “I know that’s not her real name. Her real
name is Jessica Montgomery. She’s a runaway.”
I let out a deep breath. He didn’t want me. He wanted Victoria.
Officer Daily drove a couple more miles, then pulled into the
parking lot of an abandoned building, driving around to the back. This
wasn’t a good sign.
He shifted the gear into park and turned around, looking at me
through the prisoner partition. “What’s your real name, PJ?”
I quickly thought of a random name. “My name’s Paris Jackson.”
There was no way he could verify what my name was. I had left my purse
with the stolen driver’s license in Layla’s bedroom.
He held up my phone. “What’s the pin code to unlock this?”
“Don’t you need a search warrant?”
He sat there silently, trying different number combinations to unlock
my phone, like a fool.
I wondered how Officer Daily figured out that Victoria was a
runaway. When he pulled her over for having a tail light out, she handed
him a stolen driver’s license. Victoria had changed the color of her hair to
match the girl in the photo on the driver’s license. She looked very similar
to the girl. Plus Victoria bought the car off of someone on Craigslist, then
registered it at the DMV with that same stolen driver’s license.
Officer Daily grunted. He was getting frustrated. After a couple
more failed attempts to unlock my phone. He slammed his fist down on the
dash. “Where is your friend?”
“Why do you want to know?”
He looked at me sideways, jaw clenched. “You know why. You
know there’s a reward for her safe return.”
 I did know about the reward money her parents were offering.
Victoria was a minor and had run away from home.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” he said through gritted teeth. “I
want that money. It’s gonna be mine!”
“Is that why you followed us to the hotel? You knew that Victoria
was a runaway?”
He nodded. “Her face looked familiar. Then later it dawned on me
where I had seen her before. In a picture. A missing person’s picture.”
So he wasn’t just after Paxton that night. He was also following
Victoria.
Did he not realize that Paxton disappeared that same night? Of
course he did. He had to know. Which brought me to my next question:
Why wasn’t he asking me about her? He was a cop. It was his job to help
solve murders. Sure, Lane had already been charged and arrested, but that
didn’t mean he was guilty. The other possibility was that maybe Officer
Daily was guilty. Maybe he killed Paxton.
I considered accusing him of framing Lane for Paxton’s murder, but
I didn’t want to upset him. It was best that I didn’t mention Paxton’s name
at all.
“If you let me go, then I’ll tell you where Victoria is,” I said,
struggling to get comfortable. The cuffs were digging into my wrists.
“Where is she?”
“She’s in Mexico.” That was the truth. Victoria had gone to Mexico
to keep an eye on Cory for me. He had stolen my money, and I wanted it
back.
Officer Daily narrowed his eyes. “Why is she in Mexico?”
“She’s a runaway, and she doesn’t want to be found.”
His jaw clenched, and the vein bulged on the side of his face. “I
don’t have the patience to play games with you! You better not be lying!”
“I’m not lying. I have a tracker app on my phone. It shows exactly
where she’s at.” That was the truth. “I can show it to you. But first you’ll
have to take these cuffs off. And I want you to take me to Layla’s house.”
He exhaled through gritted teeth.
“I promise, as soon as you pull up in front of Layla’s house and take
these cuffs off of me, I’ll show you the app. I’ll show you where she’s at.”
He sat there, studying my face, looking for signs of deception. “I’m
warning you! You better not be messing with me!”
“I promise, I’m not,” I said, innocently. You psycho!

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 Chapter 36
PJ (Bellany)

Present Day. . . .

Officer Daily parked alongside the curb in front of Layla and Lane’s
house. After he took the cuffs off of me, I showed him the tracker app on
my phone, just like I had promised. “Here’s where she is,” I said, pointing
to the map as we stood in the street next to his police cruiser.
He wrote down the address of the hotel Victoria was staying at. I gave
him her phone number too, even though he hadn’t asked for it.
I held my phone in my hand and stood there looking at him with
disbelief and shock on my face. If he had a conscience, he would feel bad
for what he had done to me. He would feel remorse for disgracing his
badge. He took an oath to protect people.
“You really scared me, Officer Daily.” I forced tears into my eyes.
“Cuffing me and tossing me into the backseat of your police vehicle. . . .” I
bit my lip, shaking my head. “That wasn’t necessary. I didn’t do anything
wrong. I didn’t break the law, yet you held me against my will. You took
my phone from me, you threatened me, and all because you want money.”
He snatched hold of my wrist, squeezing it.
“Ouch!” I cried out, overexaggerating how much pain I was in.
“You’re hurting me! Let go!”
“Shut up!” he snapped, squeezing my wrist harder, which was
actually starting to hurt now. “Don’t you dare lecture me! You’re lucky I’m
letting you go. I did consider taking you with me to find your friend, and
maybe I still should.”
“Why would you do that?” I gasped, blinking my eyes and forcing
tears to roll down my cheeks. If he took me with him to Mexico, I would
only get in the way and make his life miserable. “I already told you where
she is.” I sniffed. “Don’t make me go with you.”
He gritted his teeth. “If I get down to Mexico and Victoria’s not
where you say she is, I’ll come after you! Don’t think I won’t!”
“And do what? Kill me?” I wanted him to say it -- say the words!
 His eyes were wild. The sanity in this man barely existed, if at all.
“Killing you would be showing you mercy,” he hissed. “I’ll make you
suffer first, then I’ll kill you.”
I forced myself to cry. “Please don’t.”
“Get out of my face!” He shoved me back. “I’m done with you. For
now!”
I took off running, cutting through the grass, heading straight to the
front door. I wasn’t going to tell Lane and Layla about what had happened
with him -- I wasn’t going to mention anything about it. I couldn’t, because
then I would have to bring up Victoria.
As I raced up the steps, I heard the police cruiser drive off. But I
wasn’t ready to go inside yet. There was one more thing I had to do.
I sent Victoria a text, asking her to mail the package that she was
holding on to. The package was important. If it didn’t get sent, my chances
of stealing Lane’s money would be gone forever.
While I had originally wanted to collect the reward money that
Victoria’s parents were offering for her safe return, I wasn’t heartbroken
that I wasn’t going to get it. Twenty-five thousand dollars paled in
comparison to a trust fund worth millions.
After Victoria sends the package, there would be no other reason for
me to stay in contact with her. She had already done the other favor I asked
her to do: Go down to Mexico and confirm that Cory is in fact living there
with his sister. Victoria told me that Cory had bought a new house, right on
the beach, and would be moving into it soon. He wasn’t going anywhere.
I stuffed my phone in my pocket and rang the doorbell. When Lane
answered and saw that I had been crying, he wrapped his arms around me.
“PJ, are you all right?”
“I’m okay now,” I said in a low voice.
He kept one arm around my shoulders as he led me into the living
room.
“Oh my gosh!” Layla called from upstairs. “PJ! I was so worried
about you!”
Liar! She wasn’t worried. She left me at William’s house on
purpose, and I was never going to forgive her for that.

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 Chapter 37
PJ (Bellany)

The past . . .

I had just dyed my hair the same colors as Paxton’s. My makeup and my
clothes were a perfect match to hers also. We looked so much alike. Fooling
Officer Daily would have been a piece of cake, except Paxton changed her
mind.
She insisted that Victoria and I drive her to one of the campgrounds
at the Kanawha State Forest so that she could hang out with Kye, William,
and Dottie. She did not want our help anymore.
“Are you sure?” I asked her, wondering if she just needed some
reassurance.
Victoria sat on the bed, speechless.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Paxton picked up her backpack and slung it over
her shoulder.
“Fine.” I started gathering up my things. If she wanted to place
herself in harm's way, it was her funeral.
Paxton stood by the hotel room door, arms folded, impatiently
waiting. “You both have been filling my head with a bunch of nonsense.
You had me so scared and freaked out, that I was ready to go along with
your plan to entrap a police officer. Do you know how much trouble we
could get into if we did something like that? I should never have listened to
you.”
“We were just trying to help,” Victoria said, grabbing the car keys
and walking out the door.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from cursing at Paxton.
The only reason I bothered to help her in the first place was because I
thought she would be useful to have around. Like Victoria was. Working
with Victoria had proved to be very profitable. It was much easier running
scams on people when I had a partner in crime I could count on.
Victoria and I could have dropped Paxton off on the side of the road
somewhere and left her there. I considered doing it, but then I decided it
would be better punishment to take her straight to her friends. Crazy Dottie
would be happy to see her. So would her crazy father.
While we were driving down the road, a police cruiser pulled up
alongside us, startling Victoria. Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she
craned her neck to see through the window. “Is that him?”
I turned to look, but the police cruiser sped by much too quickly,
and the lights on the road weren’t bright enough.
Paxton cowered in the backseat, hugging her backpack. She was
scared.
“What if that was Officer Daily? What if he’s on his way to the
campsite?” Victoria asked as she merged onto the freeway.
“I haven’t changed my mind,” Paxton said. “I still want you to take
me there.”
“I don’t know how you’ll be able to sleep tonight.” Victoria
shuddered. “You’ll be out in the open with no locked door to hide behind.”
I nudged Victoria’s leg and shot her a look. She needed to drop it.
The decision had been made.
We mostly drove in silence the rest of the way, except for when
Paxton gave Victoria directions.
The campground almost looked like it had already been closed for
the season. There were barely any cars.
“There they are.” Paxton pointed at a light-colored truck parked at a
campsite. “That’s William’s brother’s truck. He always borrows it when he
goes camping.”
Victoria pulled over and shifted the car into park. “You sure you
want to stay here, Paxton? What about Dottie and her dad? What about
those missing girls in Ohio--”
“Thanks for the ride,” Paxton interrupted, pushing the door open.
Then she promptly slammed it shut.
Victoria sat there with a frown on her face. “I’m worried about her.”
I wasn’t. Paxton meant nothing to me.
“Drive around the campground,” I said. I was curious if we would
run into Officer Daily. I kept my eyes peeled for his police cruiser.
We were about a half mile away, when the headlights on Victoria’s
car flashed across another vehicle that was parked on the side of the road, in
the trees. It was hidden so well, I almost didn’t see it. “That’s interesting,” I
said.
 “What?”
“Pull over and park. We’re getting out.” I knew where I had seen
that vehicle before. It was in a photo at Paxton’s house.
We got out of the car and walked up to it. I looked through the
window. Nobody was in there.
“Whose BMW is this?” she asked.
“It’s Lane’s.” I wondered what he was doing here, and why he had
hid his car.

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 Chapter 38
PJ (Bellany)

The Past. . . .

We left Victoria’s car parked on the side of the road and started off on
foot. Using our phones as flashlights, we headed back toward the campsite.
But we didn’t walk along the road. We cut through the trees, not wanting to
be seen.
“Something weird’s going on,” I whispered to Victoria, adjusting the
backpack on my shoulder. I had packed a couple extra mobile phones and
some alcohol wipes. Those things always seemed to come in handy.
“What do you mean, weird?” she asked.
“I think Lane parked his BMW back there, because he didn’t want
his friends to know he’s here.”
“Are you sure that’s his BMW?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind. It’s got a really fancy custom paint
job, and it has the same spoiler on the back.”
I shined my light at a group of trees, trying to decide whether we
should walk around or go through them. “This way,” I said, pointing with
my light.
Victoria hooked her arm through mine, trying not to lose her footing on
the uneven ground. “Do you think Lane came here to spy on Paxton? Do
you think he’s mad, because she broke up with him?”
Yes, dummy. Of course he’s mad. “Why else would he hide his car?”
She accidentally dropped her phone, bent down to pick it up, then
brushed the dirt off. “Remember how Paxton said that Lane got rough with
her and almost knocked her over?”
“Yep.” I ducked under a low tree branch, moving at a brisk pace.
“Well,” she said, “I only bring that up, because I think we need to be
careful. Lane’s probably furious that Paxton broke up with him, and he’s
got a temper. So we need to watch out for him too.”
Was she seriously lecturing me? I wasn’t stupid. I knew how to
watch out for myself. “Yeah. I’m aware that we need to be careful.”
 I pointed my light at the trees and bushes surrounding us, wondering
if I should just tell Victoria to go back to the car and wait for me there. She
was getting on my nerves. Plus she was breathing hard and seemed to be
having trouble keeping up.
“Are we almost there?” she asked, her voice too loud.
“Shh! Be quiet.”
We continued walking for several more minutes, and I knew we
were getting close. “You should turn off your light now,” I whispered.
As soon as Victoria’s light turned off, she tripped and let out a yelp.
She’s such a klutz, and she has the biggest mouth! I gritted my teeth,
trying to control my temper.
“Sorry,” Victoria whispered. She brushed her hands and knees off.
“I’m okay. I’m fine.”
A noise pricked my ears, and this time it didn’t come from Victoria.
I stood motionless, listening intently. There were voices in the distance. We
were almost there. I squeezed Victoria’s arm. “You need to be very quiet,” I
whispered.
“I know. I will--I promise.”
Through the trees, I saw the glow of a campfire and started heading
toward it. I turned off my light, slowing down so that Victoria could keep
up.
The voices continued to grow louder. I figured that must have been
Paxton, Dottie, Kye, and William. Where was Lane?
Victoria and I crouched down, hiding behind a grouping of bushes.
We were close enough to hear their conversation. They were discussing
different ways to make s'mores, which surprised me. I thought Paxton
would be telling her friends all about me and Victoria and what had
happened tonight. But she was acting like nothing had happened and
nothing was bothering her. She was even being friendly to Dottie, offering
to roast a marshmallow for her.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Paxton pretending
like everything in the world was fine. She probably had a lot of practice
doing that kind of thing growing up in an abusive household.
Victoria and I moved closer. We slipped behind another grouping of
bushes, which was a much better spot. I could actually see everyone from
here. The campfire lit up their faces.
 I saw Paxton walk over to a log and sit down next to William with a
cup in her hand. I assumed she was drinking hot chocolate. She was sipping
it slowly.
“An Uber dropped you off here?” William asked Paxton.
“Yeah,” she replied.
Kye sat down on the other side of Paxton. “Why didn’t you drive
your car?”
“I had a flat tire.”
She had four flat tires, to be exact. They had been slashed with a
knife.
William handed Paxton a blanket. “Here. You look cold.” The
blanket was big enough for both him and Paxton. He scooted close,
snuggling under the blanket with her.
The temperature outside was dropping, and I could feel Victoria
shivering by my side. I knew we couldn’t stay out here much longer.
I saw Dottie sit down on a chair by herself. She warmed her hands
over the fire. Then Victoria tugged my arm, ripping my attention. “Look,”
she whispered.
I squinted through the darkness, catching sight of a small light in the
distance. It only flickered for a moment. I wondered if that was Lane. How
was he going to react when he saw Paxton and William cuddled under a
blanket together?
I held my phone tightly in my hands, wondering if I would get a
chance to record something crazy tonight. Blackmail was a very lucrative
business to be in, especially when the person being blackmailed has a big
fat trust fund.
I turned my attention back to the campsite.
Kye had grabbed a couple marshmallows. “So, Paxton,” she said,
spearing one with a stick. “We heard about your break up with Lane.”
“Everybody’s heard about it,” Dottie said, stuffing her hands in her
pockets.
“What do you mean, everybody?” Paxton asked.
Kye held the stick over the fire, roasting some marshmallows.
“Layla is blasting it all over social media. She’s calling you all kinds of
names and telling everybody that you cheated on Lane, and that you stole
William from her.”
 Paxton turned to look at William. “You said that Layla wasn’t going
to tell Lane about us.”
William shook his head. “That’s what she said. She promised she
wouldn’t. But then she found out that you broke up with him, so she felt
like the deal was off.”
“I can’t believe this.” Paxton buried her face in her hands for a few
beats, then she turned to William again. “So is she writing mean stuff about
you too? Or just me?”
“She mostly wrote stuff about you,” Dottie said, spearing a stick
through a marshmallow.
“Is Lane posting stuff about me too?” Paxton asked.
“I don’t think so,” Kye replied, sliding a marshmallow onto a
cracker. “I haven’t seen anything.” She broke off a piece of chocolate. “But
I haven't checked lately since we don’t get a cell signal here.”
Paxton buried her face in her hands again. “I can’t believe Layla.”
“Well, you did betray her,” Dottie said, licking the marshmallow off
her finger. “Kind of like you did to me.”
Paxton’s head popped up. “You? How did I betray you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Dottie said, waving her
hand in the air.
Dottie and Kye started talking quietly to each other while assembling
s’mores. William and Paxton had their own side conversation going on too.
I wanted to get closer so I could hear what they were saying. I started
crawling on my hands and knees, slowly moving to another grouping of
bushes. Victoria followed.
Kye started roasting another marshmallow over the fire. “So are you
two together now?”
“Or was that just a one time thing?” Dottie asked.
William palmed his hair back, hesitating. And Paxton pulled the
blanket up higher onto her shoulders.
Victoria nudged my arm, ripping my attention. “What?” I
whispered.
“I’m freezing.” Her teeth chattered.
“Go back to the car and wait for me there.” I should have never
brought her with me. She’s such a wimp.
“You sure you don’t want to come? It’s so cold out here.”
“I’ll be there soon. Go.” Get out of my face!
 Victoria started heading back to the car, and I wondered if she would
get lost. She was so helpless sometimes.
I turned to look at Paxton and her friends again.
Dottie took a sip of hot chocolate. “How come neither of you are
answering the question? Are you two together now?”
“We’re just gonna see what happens,” William said.
Dottie dumped the rest of her hot chocolate out onto the ground and
tossed the cup into the fire. “Paxton, you should just be honest with William
and tell him how you really feel about him. Because I don’t want you to
hurt him like you hurt Lane.”
“What?” Paxton gasped.
Dottie folded her arms tightly across her chest. “You said William
was a mistake. You acted like you were disgusted with yourself for kissing
him, like he was beneath you or something.”
“That’s harsh,” Kye said, removing her marshmallow from the fire.
It was totally burned.
William pushed the blanket off his shoulders and turned to Paxton.
“What’s she talking about?”
“Nothing,” Paxton insisted. “I never said that. She’s lying.”
“Oh, really,” Dottie said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “I
recorded part of what you said.”
Wow. This should be good. I tucked my legs under to get more
comfortable. The ground was cold and hard. My legs were feeling numb.
But I didn’t care. I wanted to hear this.
“You recorded me?” Paxton asked, her voice rising.
Dottie held up her phone. “Yep. Here it is. Listen.”
Dottie’s recorded voice filled the air:
So William’s kiss wasn't, like, totally amazing? The kind that just
knocks your socks off and sends a jolt of electricity throughout your entire
body? The kind that makes you think about him nonstop?
Then Paxton’s voice filled the air:
No, of course not. It wasn’t anything like that. There was no spark. I
felt nothing.
William shifted forward, about to stand up, and Paxton reached for
his arm.
“William,” she said, “I didn’t mean that. I swear, I didn’t--”
 “Don’t touch me, and don’t talk to me.” William stormed off,
heading down a trail through the trees.
Paxton looked up at Dottie. “I can’t believe you just did that! I
thought you were my friend!”
“I thought you were my friend too!” Dottie snapped, towering over
Paxton.
If I were Paxton, I wouldn’t just sit there. I would get up. Dottie had
the stronger and more controlling position.
“Paxton, you betrayed my friendship.” Dottie jabbed a finger in her
face. “You knew how much I liked William, yet you threw yourself at him
anyway! First you stole him away from Layla. Then you stole him from
me!”
“I can’t steal something away from you that you don’t have,
Dottie!” Paxton fired back. “You never had William, and you never will!
You’re not good enough for him!”
Dottie reached out and slapped Paxton across the face, the sound
echoing through the air.
I knew Paxton shouldn't have just sat there. She was asking for
something like that to happen.
A twig snapped and my heart leapt into my throat. I turned and
scanned my surroundings, but I was unable to see where the noise had come
from. It was entirely too dark. I knew it couldn’t have been Victoria. She
had headed in the complete opposite direction. Was it an animal? Was it
Lane? Or was it William?
I quieted my breathing, listening intently, but then Paxton and Dottie
started screaming and yelling at each other. My attention shifted back to
them. Paxton picked something up from the ground and threw it at Dottie.
Dottie grabbed the side of her head, crying out in pain. Then Paxton took
off running into the woods, following the same path William took.
I was stunned that Paxton reacted so violently toward Dottie. She
was a lot more vicious than I thought she was.
Kye tried to console Dottie, but she was too upset. She kept her
hand on her head, buckled over in pain.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Kye asked.
Dottie removed her hand and looked at her fingers. I was too far
away to see if there was any blood.
 She straightened up, her gaze turning to the trail that William and
Paxton had taken. “I’m gonna kill her!” Dottie shouted, heading straight
toward it.
Kye remained by the campfire, pacing back and forth. Several
minutes passed, then she grabbed a flashlight and headed down that same
path.
I immediately got up and started following too.

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 Chapter 39
PJ (Bellany)

The Past. . . .

Paxton, William, Dottie, and Kye were all wandering around in the
forest. I figured I would be able to catch up to them eventually. But if for
some reason that didn’t happen, I planned on heading back to the campsite
and waiting for them there.
I still had no idea where Lane was. He had to be out here somewhere.
Was he watching and following from a distance like I was? Had he seen
me?
Paxton said that Lane was abusive. I wondered just how violent and
dangerous he really was. How was he handling the news that Paxton
cheated on him? I doubted he was the type of guy to let something like that
go. I suspected he came here to get revenge.
His own sister, Layla, had already demonstrated how mentally and
emotionally unstable she was by showing up at Paxton’s house with a
switchblade. Was that any indication of the type of thing Lane might do? Or
was his temper much worse? Was he even more irrational and dangerous?
As I headed up a hill, trying to use my light as little as possible, I came
to a point where I had to stop. There was a steep drop off, and if I hadn’t
been paying attention, I might’ve fallen into a ditch.
I shined my light to see how far down it went, and my breath caught
in my throat. My heart stopped. I had found Paxton. She was lying on the
ground, about four feet down from where I stood, and she wasn’t moving. I
looked in every direction, scanning my surroundings, making sure I was
alone. Then I slowly made my way down to her.
I nudged her shoulder. No response. I pressed my fingers against her
neck, checking for a pulse. Nothing.
She was dead.
I shined my light at her body and found two arrows sticking out of
her. One had pierced her chest, the other her abdomen. My mind shifted to
the picture I had seen of Paxton and her friends. Every single one of them
had been holding a compound bow. Which one of them had done this to
her?
Not wanting to spend any more time than absolutely necessary
lingering around her dead body, I unzipped my backpack, pulled one of the
phones out, and began taking pictures and video. Evidence like this could
be worth a lot of money.
I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and began searching
Paxton’s pockets. I found the switchblade I had given her earlier. I used it to
cut away some of her bloodsoaked clothing and some of her hair, then I
stashed it all inside my backpack.
I wiped my fingerprints off the switchblade and began covering it
with her blood. I placed that inside my backpack too. The last thing I did
was remove one of the arrows from her body and added it to my backpack.
I zipped it shut, slung it over my shoulder, and quickly climbed out of the
ditch.
But I wasn’t finished yet. I found a place closeby to hide. I sat there,
watching and waiting with my phone in my hands, ready to record
everything on video.

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 Chapter 40
PJ (Bellany)

The Past. . . .

When I heard voices approaching, I immediately pressed the record

button on my phone, aiming the camera. It was Dottie, Kye, and William.
The clouds had shifted in the sky, and the moonlight lit up their faces.
“She’s down there!” Dottie said in a shaky voice, shining the light
from her phone. “Just like I told you.”
Kye peered down into the ditch. “Oh my gosh!” she shrieked, hands
to her face.
“Where is she?” William asked, shining his light.
Dottie pointed. “That’s where I found her. She was already dead
when I got here.”
“Are you sure she’s dead?” Kye asked, on the verge of tears.
“Did you check her pulse?” William asked, jumping down inside the
ditch.
Kye and Dottie stood there watching from above, their arms linked
together.
I continued recording everything on video, wondering which one of
them had killed Paxton. Did William do it? Was Paxton’s rejection too
much for him to bear?
Did Dottie do it to get revenge?
And what about Kye? Did she have a reason to kill Paxton too?
Was it possible that all three of them were innocent? Could some
stranger have done it? There was still the possibility that Lane killed her.
But I hadn’t seen him yet. Maybe he wasn’t even here anymore.
William climbed back out of the ditch. “She’s definitely dead,” he
said, his voice low.
Kye began crying. “How did she die? What do you think happened
to her?”
“Someone shot her with an arrow,” William replied.
“Oh my gosh!” Dottie buried her face in William’s chest, crying.
William reached for Kye, pulling her into his arms too.
 While the three of them were huddled together, trying to console
each other and figure out what to do, I slowly moved to a different spot,
hoping to get a better shot with my camera. If this video was going to be
worth a lot of money, I had to make it good.
“We need to call the police,” Kye said, wiping tears from her face.
“We can’t!” William said. “What if the cops think we did it? We all
use compound bows. We have tons of pictures and videos of us using them
on TikTok and Instagram.”
“So?” Kye sniffed. “That doesn’t mean that we killed her.”
“I--I think it does make us look guilty.” Dottie wrapped her arms
around her stomach. “Plus we have compound bows and arrows back at
camp.”
“I don’t care! We have to call the cops!” Kye insisted. “It’s the right
thing to do.”
“Hold on a second!” William said, his voice tense. “There’s another
reason why I don’t want to call the cops. . . . Remember how I told
everyone that I went to live with my grandparents during my freshman
year? Well, I lied about where I was. . . . When I went to stay with my
grandparents that summer, I met a girl named Tabatha. And it didn’t end
well. She cheated on me, and I kind of lost it. I did some really stupid stuff.
. . . My parents were going through a divorce at the time, and I was just
feeling so out of control of everything going on in my life. I was so angry.”
“What happened, William?” Dottie asked.
My fingers were starting to cramp from holding the camera, so I
switched hands. I couldn’t wait to capture William’s secret confession on
video.
William stared down at the ground, hesitating. “I spent time in juvy
for assaulting Tabatha, and making death threats against her. . . . But I swear
I’m a changed person. I really am. . . . Problem is, I don’t think the cops
will agree. They’ll look at my history of violence, and I’ll get blamed for
what happened to Paxton--I know they’ll blame me! And this time they
won’t send me to juvy. They’ll send me to prison.”
Dottie placed a hand on his back. “Don’t worry, William. We won’t
tell anybody what happened here tonight.”
Kye nodded in agreement. “I won’t tell anybody,” she said, her
voice small. “It’ll stay between us.”
 Dottie looked down into the ditch again. “Who could have done this
to her?”
Maybe you did, I thought to myself. Dottie was the first one to find
her.
All three of them stood there, scanning their surroundings, which
made me nervous. I slipped back behind a tree trunk to make sure they
couldn’t see me.
“Let’s get out of here,” Dottie said as she started to cry again.
“Wait,” William said. “I’m the one who reserved our campsite. The
cops are gonna know we were here and when they find her body, they’ll
come right to us, looking for answers.”
“What should we do? Should we bury her?” Dottie asked.
“We have to,” He replied. “And then we have to hope that they
never find her.”
Kye started sobbing. “I can’t do that. I can’t!”
“You don’t have to do it, Kye,” William said. “I will.”
“Do you have a shovel?” Dottie asked.
“There’s one in the back of my brother’s truck.”
How convenient, I thought to myself. Did you know you were going
to bury a body tonight, William?
The three of them took off, heading back toward camp.
I stopped the recording and slid my phone into my pocket, satisfied
with the footage I had gotten. I adjusted the backpack on my shoulders and
started hiking back through the forest, heading to the car.
Paxton had made a fatal mistake tonight. She should have never
come here.

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 Chapter 41
Kye

The Past. . . .

I had never seen a dead body before, and I didn’t think I would ever be
able to unsee what I had seen. The only thing I was grateful for was the fact
that I didn’t have to get close to it. William volunteered to bury Paxton,
while Dottie and I stood from afar watching and crying.
My eyes were puffy and swollen. Dottie’s were too. William hadn’t
really cried. Not yet anyway. He was probably in too much shock.
All three of us were sitting in the tent. We had already talked about
what we would say to the cops if they brought us in for questioning. We
made sure to get our stories straight.
But my mind wasn’t at ease. I was so devastated and sad about what
had happened to Paxton. I was also terrified. I didn’t feel safe staying at
camp with a killer on the loose.
William tried to ease my fears. He said, “Someone was probably just
practicing with their compound bow, and they were being stupid with it,
shooting off into the dark at nothing. People do that kind of crap all the
time. They’re so irresponsible. They don’t realize how dangerous and risky
that is.”
“What if it wasn't some random idiot being irresponsible?” I asked.
“What if someone deliberately killed Paxton?”
William looked at me strangely. “You don’t think one of us did it, do
you?”
I swallowed hard. “No! I didn’t mean us. I meant someone else.”
Dottie’s brows drew together. “Like who?”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to be the one to bring this up, but I had to say it.
“What if Layla did it? What if she followed Paxton here?”
William and Dottie exchanged looks.
“She showed up at Paxton’s house with a switchblade in her
pocket,” I reminded them. “And we all know that she’s crazy.”
William shook his head. “I don’t think she could have done something
like that.” He zipped up his sleeping bag and laid down. “I don’t think
Layla’s crazy either. She’s just a passionate person and sometimes her
emotions get a little out of control.”
I was still nervous about camping here and did not feel safe. There
was another thing bothering me. “What about that gunshot we heard?” I
asked.
“Kye,” William sighed heavily. “We’ve heard gunshots go off here
lots of times before. It’s nothing to worry about.”
Dottie nodded in agreement. “We should be safe here, Kye. We’re back
at camp. We’ve never had any trouble here.”
William pulled a stocking cap over his head and pointed to the
lantern. “Kye, would you turn that off. I want to try to get some sleep before
the sun comes up.”
“Me too,” Dottie said, fluffing her pillow.
I reached over and turned it off, then I laid there with my eyes open,
staring at nothing in the dark, my mind unable to turn off.
Earlier tonight, when we all got separated and ended up wandering
through the forest, I tried so hard to find Dottie, without any luck. I couldn’t
find William either, not until I started heading back toward camp. Then
shortly after that, we finally found Dottie, and she told us about Paxton. The
news hit me so hard, I could barely breathe.
After we saw Paxton’s body, and then William told us that story
about what he had done to his ex-girlfriend, I was so freaked out. For a
couple seconds there, I wondered if William had killed Paxton. He seemed
like he was capable of it, especially after what happened with his ex.
Assault was such a general term and encompassed so many different
things. I wanted to know what exactly he had done to his ex. But I was too
afraid to ask. And when he told us that he made death threats against her,
that chilled me to the bone. He must have really been angry. I had no idea
that William was capable of such a thing.
I wondered if Dottie had changed her mind about William after hearing
what he had done. She had a huge crush on him. She had made that
abundantly clear, to both Paxton and myself, that she was obsessed with
William. She had told us many times that if William and Layla ever broke
up, she had dibs on him.
Dottie felt so betrayed when she found out that Paxton had totally
disregarded her feelings, and her friendship, by getting together with
William. Dottie told me that she was so mad at Paxton that she went to her
house and slit all four tires on her car.
When I saw Paxton flirting with William tonight and cuddling under
the blanket with him, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe she was doing that
right in front of Dottie. I thought she was being so cold-hearted and
insensitive. It was like she was rubbing it in Dottie’s face.
I knew what it felt like to watch the person you’re in love with give
their heart to someone else. That’s what happened to me every time I saw
Lane and Paxton together. I felt like my heart was being torn apart. Lane
and I had been so close to becoming a couple, and then Paxton showed up
and ripped him away from me. I never forgave her for that.
“It’s cold,” Dottie said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Scoot closer to me,” William said. “I’ll help warm you up.”
I wasn’t that cold. Or maybe it was, I didn’t know. I just felt numb
inside and out.
As I continued to lay there, unable to fall asleep, another thought
came to my mind. William had brought his compound bow to camp with
him tonight. He had also brought two more for Dottie and I to use, but we
got here after dark, so we never did any target practicing.
I wondered if all of the arrows he had brought were present and
accounted for, or if any of them were missing.

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 Chapter 42
PJ (Bellany)

The Past. . . .

As I hiked through the dark forest, carrying a backpack full of

incriminating evidence, I felt a sense of urgency to get out of there as
quickly as possible.
While heading up a hill, I heard a twig snap and a jolt of adrenaline
shot through my veins. The noise had come from somewhere behind me,
and I was almost certain that someone was following me.
I glanced back over my shoulder, but I didn’t see anyone. It was too
dark. The only thing I could do was keep moving.
Every time I heard another noise, my heart rate went soaring. I
wished I had my gun. But I left it in the car, thinking that I wouldn’t need it.
I hadn’t planned on staying here this long.
As I walked around a cluster of trees, trying to find a shortcut
through them, something went whizzing by my head. My heart leapt into
my throat, and I started to run. Even though I hadn’t seen it, I knew it was
an arrow -- it had to be!
My heart pounded like a drum as I tried to maintain my quickened
pace. But traversing the uneven ground felt like I was sloshing through
thick mud. Straining my eyes to see through the dark, I weaved through the
trees and the brush, hoping I could outrun my pursuer. What if I ended up
dead just like Paxton?
Another arrow came whizzing past me, landing in a tree. This time I
saw it. I gasped for air, fumbling through the dark. Another arrow came
whizzing past me, and I ducked. I spotted a clearing up ahead. It had to be
the road -- it had to be! My heart pounded faster as I ran toward it. When
my shoes finally hit the hard asphalt, the sky opened up above me, and the
moon hung bright in the sky. I was exposed. I was an easy target!
I sprinted across the road, heading for the cover of the trees, then I
spotted Victoria’s car. I kept running and didn’t stop, heading to the
passenger side door. I flung it open and grabbed my purse.
“PJ!” Victoria gasped. “What’s wrong?”
 With my gun in hand, I aimed in the direction of my pursuer. Even
though I couldn’t see anyone, I pulled the trigger. The gunshot exploded,
echoing through the air like a clap of thunder.
Victoria leaned across the seat, fingers plugging her ears, a panicked
look in her eyes.
I motioned for her to get out of the car. “Come here!”
She climbed across the seat. “What’s going on?”
“Here!” I said, handing her the gun. “Point it this way. If you see
anyone, shoot ‘em!”
“What?”
“Just do it!” I snapped.
“Okay--okay!”
While Victoria stood watch, I ran to the BMW and grabbed hold of
the door handle. It opened on the first pull. Reaching down for the lever, I
popped the trunk, then I ran around to the back. The trunk was cleaned out
completely. I lifted up the carpet, accessing the spare tire compartment. I
quickly emptied most of the contents of my backpack, then covered it up
again and shut the trunk.
Racing back to Victoria, I took the gun from her hand. “Let’s get out
of here!” I said, climbing inside.
Victoria shifted the car into drive and sped down the road, while I
watched for headlights, making sure we weren’t being followed.
Once I felt like we were in the clear, and I had caught my breath, I
explained to Victoria everything that had happened, and how I almost got
killed.
“Why was someone shooting arrows at you?”
“I think it was Lane. When he saw me hiking through the woods, he
must have thought I was Paxton. He was probably too far away to confirm
whether he had killed her earlier. That's why he started shooting at me. He
thought Paxton was still alive, and he thought I was her.”
Victoria cupped her hand over her mouth, and the car swerved a
little bit. “That makes total sense. Because your hair is exactly like
Paxton’s, and you’re similar in height and build. Of course he thought you
were her.” Victoria let out a heavy sigh as she switched lanes. “So that’s
why you put that incriminating evidence in the trunk of the BMW. You
want to get back at Lane for trying to kill you.”
 That wasn’t the only reason I put that stuff in the trunk. “Get on the
freeway,” I said, gesturing to the sign. “We need to get out of town for a
little while.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear,
staring over the steering wheel at the road ahead.
My brush with death had left me a little shook up. I turned up the
heat, and rubbed my hands together. I sat there thinking about what a
miracle it had been that I didn’t get killed. I wanted to get revenge more
than anything. But I knew I had to be smart and focus on what was most
important. Money.
“When Lane gets charged with Paxton’s murder,” I said, “I’ll offer
him a get-of-jail-free card. Only it won’t be free. It’ll be expensive.” I
looked down at my phone. “Very expensive.” I tapped the screen and
scrolled through the photos I had taken of Paxton’s dead body, then through
the videos. “Extorting money from Lane will be sweet justice.”
Victoria was gnawing on her fingernails, driving way too slow.
“Um, PJ. I have to tell you something. . . .”
“What?”
“Um. . . .” She made a face, hesitating.
“Tell me!” I demanded.
“I saw someone when I was walking back to the car by myself.”
I clenched my fist. Why hadn’t she told me this sooner? “Who?”

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 Chapter 43
PJ (Bellany)

Present Day. . . .

As I stood in the living room, wrapped in Lane’s comforting arms,

Layla began defending her decision to leave me behind at William’s house.
“I called Dottie’s father to go get you, what more could I have done?”
Lane led me over to the leather sectional. “PJ, come sit down.”
“Can I get you anything?” Layla asked, twisting a lock of her hair
around her finger. “Something to drink? Something to eat? I know. I’ll go
make you some hot chocolate.” She quickly disappeared down the hallway.
Lane switched on the fireplace and offered me a blanket. “You look
cold. You’re shivering.”
It was the house that was cold. I spread the blanket over my legs. “Did
Layla tell you what happened?” I asked him.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah. She did.”
“I should have listened to you.”
He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“You told me not to let her talk me into doing anything stupid.”
“Oh, right.” He flashed me a sympathetic smile and sat down next to
me. “You know, I almost said something before you guys left tonight. . . .
But Layla has been telling me to stay away from you, and to stay out of her
business. I didn’t want to interfere.”
“She told you to stay away from me?” I narrowed my eyes, my blood
boiling. What a witch!
He glanced back toward the hallway. “She doesn’t want me getting
involved with you. She said that I’ll just end up breaking your heart,
because I’m gonna go to jail.” He looked down at the ankle monitor.
I knew Lane was attracted to me. I had known it all along. I just didn’t
understand why he wasn’t acting on it, until now. It was because of Layla.
“Shouldn’t it be my decision whether I want to risk getting my heart
broken?”
He stared deeply into my eyes. “It doesn't bother you that I’m not
going to be around for very long?”
 Had he forgotten what it felt like to fall in love with someone?
Maybe I needed to remind him how good it felt. I lowered my gaze to his
lips, then as I was about to lean in and kissed him, he made the first move.
“Here’s your hot chocolate.” Layla cleared her throat.
We pulled apart. I held my hand out and caught a glimpse of a
devious look as it crossed her face. “Thank you,” I said, pretending like I
didn’t notice.
She pointed a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the stairs.
“I’m really tired. I think I’m gonna go to bed.”
“I’ll be up in a little while,” I said, taking a sip of the hot chocolate.
It lacked sweetness and tasted bitter.
Layla stood there for a few beats, watching me drink the hot
chocolate before finally turning around and heading upstairs.
Lane and I stayed up for several more hours. He talked about what
he would do if he were to be found innocent, how he would travel the world
with me. “We can go anywhere you want,” he said. “Money is no issue,
because I’ll have my trust fund. I’ll be rich.”
I brought up the idea of buying a yacht. “Wouldn’t that be fun? You
could hire a crew to take care of the yacht, to cook for us and clean.
Imagine how peaceful and relaxing that will be, sailing along the ocean,
going wherever we want.”
“A yacht. . . .” He stroked his chin, considering my suggestion. “I
think that’s actually a brilliant idea. We can go scuba diving. We can go
fishing. We can whale watch. It’ll be so epic.”
There was one more thing I needed to clear up. “Um, Lane. I was
wondering about something. . . .”
“I know what you’re going to ask.” He traced his finger along the
back of my hand, leaving a trail of heat.
“You do?”
He cracked a small smile. “Yes, and I’m not even psychic. But
you’re wondering if I believe that you really have psychic abilities. And the
answer to your question is, yes. I do believe you have a gift. I’m sorry I
gave you a hard time. That was wrong of me. I hope you can forgive me.”
He lifted my hand and kissed it gently.
“Of course, I forgive you.”
Lane laced his fingers through mine. “I never thought I would fall
for a girl with psychic abilities.” He shook his head. “I never thought I
would believe such a person could exist. But after watching what you did
with Kye, William, and Dottie . . . I’m a believer.”
A smile spread across my face. “I’m so happy to hear you say that.
It really means a lot.” I had him right where I wanted him.
We continued to sit there by the fire and talk. Every once in a while,
Layla came back downstairs to interrupt us. She got water twice. One time
she got a blanket. Another time she got a bowl of cereal. I heard her
footsteps coming down the stairs again, but this time she was interrupting.
Lane and I were in the middle of kissing.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice curt. “Uncle Gunner just pulled up
in front of the house.
“He’ll flip out if he comes in here and sees you two together.”
I quickly kissed Lane one last time, then followed Layla upstairs to
her bedroom.
While we were laying in our beds, with the room pitch-black,
instead of trying to fall asleep, Layla decided she wanted to talk. “Lane will
be convicted of murder. You do realize that, don’t you? And then you’ll
never see him again, not unless you want to go visit him while he’s in
prison.”
“I don’t think he’ll be convicted.”
“Oh really,” she said in a snarky tone. “Why is that?”
It was time to play with her head. Layla deserved to be messed with,
especially after she ditched me at William’s house. “Paxton’s been trying to
tell me something for a while now, and I think I finally figured out what it
means.”
Layla was quiet for a few beats. “Well, are you going to tell me?”
She sounded a little nervous.
“Yes, of course.” I pushed the blanket off, starting to feel a bit
warm. “These two sentences keep coming to my mind: The sun will rise. A
new day brings renewed hope.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I rolled over to my side and adjusted the pillow under my head. “I
think it means that Lane will be exonerated. We just have to wait for it to
happen.”
“How will he be exonerated? The police have all that evidence.”
“I know it seems hard to imagine how this can possibly happen. But
that’s the message that I’ve received from Paxton, so I know it will
happen.”
“I sure hope you’re right,” Layla said. She sounded a little more
emotional, like she was about to cry. “I don’t want to lose my brother.”
“Believe me. I don’t want to lose him either.” I couldn’t afford to let
that happen.

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 Chapter 44
PJ (Bellany)

The Past. . . .

Victoria and I were driving down the freeway. She had just told me
about some important information that she failed to mention earlier.
She wouldn’t look at me. She kept her eyes glued to the road.
“Victoria?” I prompted her.
“Um . . . when I was hiking back to the car by myself, I saw a girl
with blond hair.”
My stomach dropped. “Did she see you?”
“No. I swear she didn’t, because I ducked down and turned off my
light. There’s no way she saw me.”
“What did she look like?”
Victoria lifted a shoulder, hands gripping the steering wheel. “I
don’t know. I was too distracted by her hair to notice anything else about
her. It was long and shimmering in the moonlight. It was so pretty.”
“Was she carrying anything? Did she have a compound bow?”
Victoria bit her lip, thinking. “She might have been carrying
something. I just--I’m not sure.”
Now I knew that Lane wasn’t the one who had parked his BMW
near the campsite. He wasn’t the one who was shooting arrows at me. It was
Layla! “Exit the freeway,” I said. “We need to go back.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it!” I was going to make Layla pay for what she had done to
me. I looked at the speedometer. “Drive faster!”

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 Chapter 45
Lane

Present Day . . . . Weeks Later. . . .

I had just walked out of the courtroom a free man, and I was holding
hands with PJ. The charges against me had been dropped. I no longer had
an ankle monitor on, and I finally felt like I could breathe again.
An anonymous person had mailed a package to the police precinct with
evidence that incriminated Layla and exonerated me. The package included
video footage which was originally dark, due to it being filmed at night. But
the police enhanced it, revealing a closer and brighter picture.
The video footage was of Layla getting into my BMW. She was
carrying a compound bow and arrows. As the video continued rolling, it
panned over a sign that read, Kanawha State Forest. Then a gloved hand
held up a phone which displayed the date and time. The footage was taken
the night Paxton disappeared.
The package also included one of the arrows that Layla used to kill
Paxton. Layla’s fingerprints were on it. There was a sheet of paper included
with written instructions on where to find Paxton’s body. Her body had
been buried in the Kanawha State Forest. Paxton had literally been hunted
down and killed like an animal.
Further investigation revealed that Kye, William, and Dottie were
camping in the Kanawha State Forest that night. The three of them
confessed that they had discovered Paxton’s body and buried it, fearing that
they would get blamed. They also confessed that Layla was not camping
with them that night. She had coerced them into providing her with an alibi.
My uncle hired Layla the same attorney that had represented me, but
he wasn’t able to secure bail for her. She was going to remain in jail until
her trial. And then she’d probably get convicted.
The detectives believed that all the initial evidence they discovered
in the trunk of my BMW had been planted there by Layla.
Despite this revelation, my uncle wanted me to forgive Layla. He
said, “You know she has mental health issues, and they got worse after your
parents died.”
 As far as I was concerned, Layla could rot in jail for the rest of her
life. I didn’t care.
Ever since word got out that the charges against me were going to
be dropped, my phone had been blowing up with texts, phone calls, and
emails from reporters wanting to interview me, and from friends who had
previously turned their backs on me.
I had to get a new phone number. PJ and my uncle were the only
people who I gave my number to.
As PJ and I were driving home from the courthouse, I looked over at
her and she smiled back at me. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was.
She literally took my breath away sometimes. She had already changed her
hair color. The purple and black were gone and it was now a deep, rich
brown. The color looked good on her. Everything looked good on her.
PJ had told me that she changed her hair because Paxton’s spirit was
no longer lingering. She couldn’t feel her presence anymore. She said that
Paxton was at peace now.
When we arrived back at home, my uncle was still in a somber
mood. Amy was there, trying to console him.
I already told him that it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t failed Layla.
There was nothing he could have done to prevent what had happened.
PJ baked me some chocolate chip cookies. She knew they were my
favorite. And her cookies were the most delicious cookies that I had ever
tasted. As we sat at the counter in the kitchen eating cookies, we discussed
plans to drive down to Mexico to celebrate my newfound freedom.
She still wanted me to buy a yacht so that we could go sailing
around the world together, especially now that I had money to buy one. I
had already started searching online for a yacht but hadn’t made up my
mind yet.

The day before we planned on driving down to Mexico, I asked PJ if

she wanted to go do some target practice with my compound bow. She had
already expressed interest and had asked me about it several times before.
So I thought this would be a good opportunity to teach her how to use it.
And I told PJ that the best place to target practice was in the Kanawha State
Forest.
She seemed a little hesitant at first. “Are you sure you want to go to
the Kanawha State Forest? Isn’t that going to bother you, knowing what
happened there?”
“Why should it?” I asked. “Paxton’s body isn’t there anymore. You
told me that she was at peace now.”
“That’s true.” PJ nodded, but she still seemed hesitant. Her smile
was different. It was more forced.
When we arrived at the Kanawha State Forest, we hiked out to a
secluded area. “It’s important that we’re far away from the campgrounds
and the trails,” I explained. “We don’t want to accidentally shoot someone.”
“I agree. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
I set up some targets for us to practice shooting at, which consisted
of a few empty cans. PJ was unable to hit the targets. I had no problem
hitting all three of them.
“Would you go out and set those back up for me?” I asked her. “I
need to adjust something on my bow.”
PJ smiled. Again, her smile seemed strange. Then she started
walking, but she didn’t go very far.
I held my arrow at the ready, aiming at her. “PJ,” I said.
She turned around. “What are you doing?” she gasped. “Are you
going to shoot me?”
I lowered the arrow and chuckled. “Did your psychic abilities tell
you that?” PJ was nothing but a fraud. She had been lying to me all along.
“What’s going on, Lane? You’re scaring me.”
“I need to talk to you,” I said, glaring at her. “And you better not
move, or I’ll shoot you. Understand?”
Tears welled in her eyes. But I didn’t feel sorry for her. I hated her.
“Now before I kill you, I’m going to explain why. So pay attention.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I wasn’t at home the night Paxton was murdered. I
had come to this very place with Layla. We drove here together in my car.”
I paused for a moment. I enjoyed seeing the fear in PJ’s eyes. She
should be afraid. She should be terrified. “William had told Layla about the
camping trip,” I explained. “He thought she was going to be invited, but she
never was. He told her that all the girls were going to be there. He was
trying to talk her into being civil to Paxton. He wanted Layla to forgive her
and to be polite. He wanted them to be friends.”
I lifted the arrow again, just so I could see PJ flinch. Then I
continued, “Paxton betrayed me and my sister. But you already know all
that. You know how she cheated on me and how she stole William from
Layla. There was no way we were going to forgive her for doing that.”
I chuckled at the absurdity.
“Our original plan was to frame William for her murder, until you
messed everything up.”
Tears began rolling down PJ’s cheeks. But little did she know, the
real suffering hadn’t even started yet.
“Layla and I both came here to kill Paxton that night,” I explained.
“We split up and planned on meeting together later at a designated meeting
spot. I waited at that meeting spot for a while, but Layla was a no show.
Then I heard a gunshot. I tried to call her on her phone but couldn’t get a
signal. So I started searching for her. Eventually, I went back to our
designated meeting spot and waited some more. Layla never came.”
“When I discovered that my car was gone, I started walking home. I
eventually got a signal and called her. She told me that Paxton had shot at
her with a gun, which made no sense. I told her that was impossible. Paxton
was dead. I had already killed her. But Layla swore that she was chasing
Paxton through the woods, shooting at her.”
I paused, so that I could calm down. I was getting too worked up.
“You know what I think,” I said, glaring at PJ. “I think it was you. Layla
was chasing you that night. Am I right?”
PJ continued to stand there crying and wouldn’t say anything. This
was her chance to speak up and defend herself. She was wasting a valuable
opportunity. Oh well. Her loss.
“You made up that whole psychic thing, because of Layla. And she
ate it right up. She totally believed you. I tried to tell her that something was
up and that she shouldn’t trust you, but she didn’t listen.”
“Lane, please--”
“William stopped by the house the other day,” I cut her off. “He told
me that he had seen you before. He said that you knew Paxton. He saw you
with her. Which confirmed to me that you were the one my sister was
shooting at. You were the one who placed that incriminating evidence in the
trunk of my BMW.”
I gritted my teeth. “I almost went to jail, because of you, and now
Layla’s in jail, thanks to you! I know it was you who sent the package to the
police. It had to have been you.”
 I reached in my pocket and pulled out my phone. “You know what
else? I got a notification that the password to my bank account had been
changed. You changed it, didn’t you?”
“Lane, I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up!” I lifted my bow, about to point the arrow at her. “If I
were you, I’d start running.”
PJ didn’t run. Her eyes suddenly shifted to the right, and I saw
movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look and saw a gun--

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 Chapter 46
PJ (Bellany)

Present Day. . . .

Victoria was on point. It only took one bullet for her to kill Lane. His
money was mine now. And his body, well, we left it behind for the animals,
birds, and insects to feast off of.
I had known something was up with Lane when he asked me to do
some target practice with him. I immediately sent a text to Victoria and told
her to bring the gun. Victoria used to go to the shooting range with her
father when she was younger. And she was still an excellent shot.
Layla was in jail where she belonged, thanks to the package Victoria
mailed the police. The arrow that was included in it had been altered. It was
an arrow that I had taken from Layla’s bedroom. I knew her fingerprints
would be on it, so all I had to do was remove the tip, and replace it with the
tip from the arrow that I had taken out of Paxton’s body.
The video footage included in the package was just the cherry on
top. Luckily when Victoria and I returned to the campground that night, the
BMW was still there. Layla hadn’t left yet. We were able to catch her on
video, compound bow and arrows in hand, as she hopped into Lane’s BMW
and drove off. Our timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
We didn’t know that she had left Lane behind. We didn’t know that
he was even there. Not until he told me, just minutes before Victoria shot
him through the head.
I had planned on getting rid of him anyway. All that talk about
going on vacations and buying a yacht was just talk. Nothing more.
Anyway, Victoria and I left Charleston and drove down to Mexico.
Officer Daily wasn’t going to be a problem for us. He had already come
down here looking for Victoria, but he never found her. I warned her he was
coming and told her to come back up to Charleston.
I knew he’d be furious and try to come after me, which was why I
sent him an email with a recording attached to it. I had started recording
him after I showed him the tracking app on my phone. The camera wasn’t
focused on him the entire time, but that didn’t matter. It was our
conversation that mattered most. My message in the email to him was
simple. If he ever messed with me again, I would turn the recording over to
the police.
The only unfinished business I still had to take care of was the
situation with my former partner in crime, Cam Whitmeyer. Otherwise
known as Cory.
Cory and I had met in Las Vegas. That was before I moved to West
Virginia. If it hadn’t been for the tracking app that I installed on Cory’s
phone, I never would have been able to find him again.
The resort that Victoria and I were staying at wasn’t that far from
Cory’s new beachfront home. It only took me about five minutes to drive
there. I placed a vase full of red roses with prickly thorns on his front porch,
and I was watching from afar, looking through a set of binoculars. I
couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he read the note I attached to the
roses. This was what I wrote:

Dear Cam,
Congratulations on your new home. I hope you and Tasha enjoy it.
XOXO,
B.

I was certain he would know it was from me. Bellany. He knew

perfectly well what he had done and that I would be coming after him. It
was only a matter of time.
I already had everything planned out. Cory’s younger sister, Tasha,
had special needs and would never be able to live on her own. She would
always need supervision. My plan was to go through Tasha to get to him.
XOXO, Cory, I thought to myself. Your life is about to become a
living nightmare!

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 Acknowledgement

Dear Reader,

You have stuck with me through six books in this series now, and I thank
you greatly for that! (Bellany thanks you too!)
I'd love for you to leave a rating/review on Amazon, and make sure you
follow my Amazon author page for news about my latest new releases,
because the fun isn't over yet!

Best,
Michele

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 About The Author
Michele Leathers

Michele Leathers's books have climbed to the top of Amazon bestseller

lists. Her novels are fast-paced and full of jaw-dropping twists that will
keep readers guessing till the end. Michele Leathers received a Bachelor’s
degree in Philosophy from North Carolina State University and is a full
time writer. She's not ashamed to admit that she's addicted to Diet Pepsi,
chocolate, and writing. She's a shrewd observer of people, always looking
for ideas and inspiration for her books. Follow Michele Leathers's Amazon
author page to keep up with her latest releases! You can also follow her on
Facebook.
www.MicheleLeathers.com
OceanofPDF.com
 Books By This Author
They All Had A Reason: A rumor. A secret. A
lie. A murder. (They All Had A Reason. Book 1)

They All Had A Secret: A betrayal. A

deception. A tragedy. A murder. (They All Had A
Reason. Book 2)

They All Had A Fear: A past. A debt. A

reckoning. A murder. (They All Had A Reason.
Book 3)

They All Had A Chance: A pact. A test. A

dilemma. A murder. (They All Had A Reason.
Book 4)

They All Had A Plan: A passion. A hatred. A

jealousy. A murder. (They All Had A Reason.
Book 5)

They All Had A Grudge: A reason. A secret. A

fear. A murder. (They All Had A Reason. Book 6)
 Shadow Copy: EXIT DARKNESS (The
Shadow Copy Series Book 1)

Shadow Copy: ENTER LIGHT (The Shadow

Copy Series Book 2)

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