Fast-Tracked Page 18

  I left the letters in the container. I had hoped we’d be able to read the letters together someday. I still did.

  I placed the recordings in the box and took the action figure out. Byron once believed Murmut had the magic ability to protect him from any harm or danger. Right now that was certainly something he could use.

  I wiped my eyes dry and turned back to Wendy. “Do you think you can remember how to get here?” I asked. She nodded. “Good. Before we go home we’ll get a copy made of the key. If anything happens to me, can I count on you to retrieve this information and get it to my parents? They should be able to figure out how to use it to help me.”

  “Of course I can, but do you mind telling me why you think something’s going to happen to you? It’s not because of me is it?” Suddenly her face was riddled with guilt and concern.

  “No. Don’t think that for a moment.” I insisted. “There’s no immediate danger. It’s just that my eyes have been opened to the ways of the fast-tracker world. Power is really the only thing that matters to them. If you don’t have it, then everything you have can easily be stripped away. I have no legacy to protect me, no important connections or a business of my own, so I’m left with knowledge. This box is my insurance policy against any future retaliation I may one day face.” My voice trailed off as I got tangled up in my own thoughts. My mind started to play out events that would lead to me or my parents using the recording. Each one was more horrible than the last. I shook my head and forced the thoughts out of my mind. Fear would only hinder me.

  I patted the stone that covered what I hoped would one day hold many more secrets to protect me and my family.

  My parents complained when we left that the visit had been too short, but we had several errands to run and I still had school tomorrow. So we all said our goodbyes and Wendy and I headed to the air-tram. After checking in our bags, we headed to the nearest locksmith and had a copy of the key made.

  After that we headed into a nearby silver neighborhood. During our trip out to see my parents Wendy had used my tablet to locate a woman who bred Lhasa Apso puppies. She had a litter that was ready to go.

  Forty minutes later we were back at the air-tram with a wiggly ball of fur bouncing around the complimentary carrier the woman had included, along with some extra food and puppy pads. The moment she realized I was a fast-tracker she couldn’t give us enough extras. This time I had no delusions: I knew her actions were out of fear and not respect. Still, the motivations aside, I was glad I wouldn’t have to stop at a pet store before tomorrow. I doubted there would be any open by the time we got back to New York, and we would already have a hard enough time carrying the dog carrier and the bags of clothes.

  I appreciated the special non-pickup treatment fast trackers got when we arrived back at New York. I was exhausted and the extra stops would have been unbearable, even sitting in the comfy chairs sipping a chilled glass of wine.

  But the moment we were home and the puppy was out of the carrier, my fatigue vanished. His rambunctious love of life was infectious. He was a flying ball of fur and kisses bouncing around and trying to explore everything simultaneously. He was really a cute little guy, too: the cutest from his litter. He had a soft golden coat tipped with a smoky charcoal color, and a tiny black nose and a pink tongue that always seemed to be sticking out.

  “He needs a name,” Wendy pointed out.

  “I’ve never named anything before,” I admitted. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to start now.

  “How about Murmut?” Wendy offered.

  I pulled the action figure from my pocket. “Nah, he needs something cuter.” And I didn’t say it, but Murmut was something just for Byron. I didn’t want to dilute its meaning for the sake of naming a dog. “Lariet,” I offered. The puppy seemed to like it. He immediately ran over and jumped onto my lap. Looking at him I knew it fit; after all, he was a bit of a yo-yo.

  “Then it’s settled. I think it’s probably best to keep Lariet in my bathroom at night until we know he’s potty-trained,” Wendy said as she grabbed the carrier and puppy pads.

  “She said he was paper-trained,” I pointed out as I prepared a bowl of food and water.

  “How would she know? I highly doubt she’s the one cleaning up when the puppies miss the pad.”

  “Good point.”

  I followed after her with the bowls and Lariet nipping at my heels.

  Chapter 16

  I met Avery for breakfast as usual the next morning, but everything felt different now. Finding Wendy and seeing Byron again reminded me of who I really was and what really mattered to me. It had given me a renewed determination and purpose, and Avery just didn’t fit into it. He had been a pleasant distraction that had helped to lessen the pain, but now I knew I needed to hold onto that pain in order to hold onto who I really was. Luckily, Avery seemed oblivious to the change in me. I could certainly use his friendship to my advantage and definitely did not need him as a scorned ex-almost-boyfriend.

  When it was time to say goodbye, he went to kiss me, but I preemptively gave him a peck on the cheek. As I bounced away towards my first class, I blew a kiss over my shoulder, just to make sure he didn’t feel too put-out.

  The moment I entered my first class of the day I knew something was terribly wrong. We no longer met with Mrs. Glabough first thing in the morning, so unless the girls grabbed my attention during breakfast, Mrs. Blankenshire’s class was the first time I saw them in the morning. I hadn’t noticed their absence this morning. But as I looked upon them, I knew they hadn’t been there – I would have noticed their tear-streaked faces.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. I glanced around the room. “Where’s Trisha?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.

  “Oh, like you don’t know,” Vera managed to sneer at me between her sobs.

  “No, I don’t know. Please tell me what happened.” My voice was becoming more urgent. I feared the answer was something awful, something I had once tried to warn them all about.

  “Kendra Sampson,” Haddie answered as if that explained everything.

  “Who’s that?” I asked. It wasn’t a name I recognized.

  “She’s the girl that spent the last two weeks being super sweet to Trisha. She took her under her wing the same way Autumn did you. So none of us worried when Trisha told us she was going to a party at Jared Trentersmith’s house on Friday with her,” Haddie explained before bursting into uncontrollable sobs.

  A cold icy dread spread through me. “What happened?” I croaked. But I could already guess. A more appropriate question was how bad had it been.

  The deathly glare Vera gave me told me she didn’t buy my claim of innocence in all this, but she still answered me. “She never came back from the party. When we got worried and started to look for her both Kendra and Jared claimed that they never saw her...” Vera suddenly jumped up, ran to the trash bin and made horrible retching noises. But either she hadn’t eaten anything all day, or it wasn’t the first time she had discharged her stomach’s contents, because nothing came up.

  I wanted to join her, but swallowed back my nausea and focused on the questions I needed answered. “Do you know where she is now?

  Nora managed a nod before her face crumpled up and she started to cry.

  “Is she in the hospital?” I asked. I prayed she was. The hospital was at least better than what I feared the answer was.

  Myra snipped, “In a manner of speaking.” She studied my face. Apparently she was on the fence about thinking I must have known something about it.

  Her elusiveness was too much. “Just what is that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

  In a cold, flat voice, Myra explained, “She’s in the hospital’s morgue. They fished her body out of the river. The police think it was a suicide, but we know better.”

  I felt my chest tighten and my breathing turned into rapid short gasps. This was too much for me to absorb. I knew the adults were ruthless slime balls that would destroy anyone they felt like, but I had thought they
’d stop short of murder. It was even worse to think that people I now thought of as friends could have been involved. At least I knew Avery had been at his house with me that night; he couldn’t have been involved.

  Small black blotches began to appear in my vision. I was hyperventilating. If I didn’t calm down, I’d pass out – but calm was too far away right now. I managed to back up into the wall and slide down onto the floor before the black blotches completely obscured my vision. I dropped my head between my knees and attempted to take deeper breaths.

  When I finally looked back up, Avery was staring down at me. “Don’t stand up. You might have hit your head,” he commanded. For good measure he placed his hands on my shoulders.

  “I didn’t pass out. I’m fine,” I protested as I fought against his grip. “Let me up,” I demanded.

  “Okay, but carefully,” he warned. Slowly he relaxed his grip and allowed me to stand up.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Mrs. Blankenshire called my teacher and he sent me here. You didn’t look sick or anything this morning. What happened?” Avery asked as he gently helped me to my feet.

  “They didn’t tell you what happened to Trisha?” I didn’t want to retell the story.

  “No, but I already heard about it.” He was still looking at me, confused. How could he not make the connection between what happened to Trisha and my hyperventilating? Unless what happened was so commonplace that he was desensitized to it just like everything else.

  “I need some air,” I croaked and pushed my way past him. As soon as I was out of the classroom I broke into a run and didn’t stop until I hit the elevator. Its doors were just closing, but I thrust my arm into it and got it to stop.

  “Zandria, wait!” Avery called. I repeatedly hit the close-door button.

  As soon as the doors opened onto the first floor I was back off and running. I needed to get away from this disgusting place and all of its horrible people that had absolutely no consciences. They couldn’t even take pause for the death of a young girl.

  By the time I stopped running I was in the middle of the park surrounded by the Amber Flush rosebushes that I had gotten my clippings from. In my blind rage I had been drawn here, but it wasn’t the roses I wanted – it was the man they represented.

  But he wasn’t here, so I let the scent of the roses wash over me. Their scent was delicate and light – not overpowering like some roses, but to me it was perfect. It transported me back to the night my life was perfect, the one night I would be content to live over and over again without time ever moving forward. I closed my eyes and buried my face in a blossom as I willed myself to disappear into that night forever.

  That’s when a pair of hands clasped around my waist and pulled me back.

  “Let go of me!” I screamed. I turned around and began blindly swinging at my attacker. In the distance the sound of crashing metal joined me in my fight. My hand throbbed when it made contact with his chin bone, but then he clasped my wrist.

  “Calm down, Zandria!” Avery yelled as he attempted to grab my other hand.

  “Leave me alone!” I yelled back. I managed to twist my wrist out of his grasp and I pushed against his chest as hard as I could. He stumbled back a few steps.

  “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.” He took a threatening step closer to me, but stopped the moment he realized I was ready to bolt if he did.

  “Do you really need me to explain it to you?” I hollered. “You knew about Trisha but couldn’t be bothered to tell me. Then when the news of it makes me ill, you can’t see the connection. What happened to her doesn’t bother you at all does it?” My face distorted in loathing.

  “Of course it bothers me. I didn’t say anything because I thought you already knew, and really didn’t feel like ruining breakfast with its unpleasantness.” I crossed my arms and huffed at him. His brow furrowed as he thought for a moment. “You know I’d never let anything like that ever happen to you? Don’t you?”

  “I’m not worried about myself,” I huffed and threw my hands up in frustration. Then I narrowed my eyes on Avery. “You didn’t know anything about this ahead of time, did you?” I carefully watched his response.

  “No! God no!” he protested, looking aghast and hurt by the very idea. “I’m sorry if the news didn’t have the same impact on me, but I really didn’t know her.” He held his hand up before I could interrupt him. “If I had known ahead of time, I would have tried to stop it. But that’s if there was even anything to stop. From what I hear, the police think it was a suicide.” He took a step forward.

  I stepped back. I didn’t want him closing the distance between us. “Tell that to Kendra Sampson and Jared Trentersmith. I’m sure they’ll be relieved to find out that their crime will go unpunished.”

  Taking the hint, Avery stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

  “Trisha told the girls she was going with Kendra to a party at Jared’s house. That’s the last time anyone saw her alive. Now Kendra and Jared claim they never saw her. That’s more than a little suspicious if you ask me.” I wrapped my arms around myself as if they could block out the chill that was running up my spine. Images of what Trisha’s last moments must have been like flashed through my mind. They all contained Kendra’s and Jared’s cruel laughing faces.

  “Suspicions aren’t proof. And honestly, unless solid evidence is found, the police won’t do anything about Kendra and Jared. They’re fast-trackers. Trisha was just a newbie.”

  “Yet you have to ask what’s wrong with me. People like your father, Kendra and Jared go around destroying people’s lives and you’re content to sit back and let it happen, wiping your hands clean because there’s nothing to be done about it,” I huffed. But I knew it was pointless trying get through his thick skull and into his twisted mind. So I said, “I have to get back to class,” and turned to walk away.

  “No you don’t. They canceled your classes for the rest of the week,” Avery said as he grabbed my hand. “Why don’t we take a walk? The roses are in full bloom; we can enjoy the view and calm down.” He reached over with his free hand and twisted the stem of a rose until it broke off. He tried to hand it to me.

  I pulled my hand away and stared down at the rose like it was the most perverted thing I had ever seen. “Fine. I don’t need to get to class. I just need to get away from you,” I snarled and stomped away. He didn’t follow.

  As I turned with the bend in the path I heard a rustle and movement caught my eye. I whipped my head around to see Byron’s emerald eyes right before they disappeared back in to the surrounding greenery. The crashing metal must have been him running to my rescue. At least he still knew me well enough to stand back and wait to see if I actually needed help. I had always preferred to fight my own battles. But just knowing he was there to help me when I got in over my head had always been a comfort as well.

  I went straight back to my apartment. According to the adjusted schedule on my tablet, I now had a week off, time meant for me to grieve and come to terms with what had happened to my classmate – but I planned on doing much, much more. It was time for my business plan to take life.

  I placed a call and set up an appointment with Mico Leighton. Then I set up ten other appointments with miscellaneous businesses scattered throughout blue sections of the state. With nothing left to do but wait I focused my attention on finally scanning through my surveillance recordings. The more dirt I could dig up the better.

  Wendy seemed to understand my need for seclusion, and spent the day outside on the patio playing with Lariet and studying.

  It was late in the day when Wendy finally came back inside and cooked us dinner – three juicy steaks with roasted vegetables and potatoes. Without saying a word, she pulled out a hot pink bag and placed the steak, some potatoes and vegetables into the back. Then she took a small plastic baggie out and placed the Murmut action figure inside it. She inserted that, too, into the bag.

  Wendy had gone to the pet store
while I was at breakfast. She placed a blue leash onto Lariet’s new collar and placed the leash into my hand. “I think Lariet could use a walk.” She held the hot pink poop-bag out for me to grab.

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  Lariet was happy to just run around in a small circle and explore the same bushes over and over again. Which was lucky for me: the extra addition to the bag made it too valuable for me to just leave it unguarded. So while Lariet sniffed, marked his territory, and then sniffed some more, I strained to hear any sign that Byron was approaching.

  Wendy was right. Lariet was a good cover for the bag. Despite it being bright pink, hardly anyone noticed it. The few that did only commented how funny it was that such a little animal could make such a big mess. But they never questioned why I was still holding it. They simply must have assumed it was my only bag and I wanted to make sure he was really finished.

  The down side to Lariet was that everyone noticed him. He was just so adorably cute that everyone had to stop and say hello. So when Byron finally arrived, I had some old geezer cooing baby noises at him. “Say bye-bye to the nice man, Lariet,” I prompted to move the man along. Thankfully he took the hint and left. And just in case the guy was still in earshot, I chirped, “I have one more thing before you empty that.”

  “Are you okay?” Byron whispered.

  “No. But I will be,” I said. My lingering would only gain unnecessary attention, so I walked away, but over my shoulder, I whispered. “Take extra care with that package. It’s special.”

  I wish I could have stayed to see Byron’s reaction to the action figure. Would he think it was a ridiculous gesture? Would he be angry at me for reminding him of a life he could no longer have? Or would he see it as symbol of hope, hope that one day we would again be together? In my dreams I imagined he saw it as hope, and in my dreams that hope grew large enough to push out the rest of the world, leaving only Byron and I in blissful solitude.