Ryler smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he lifts his hands, What the hell would I do in Wyoming?
Luke looks to me for translation and when I pass a long the message, he says, “The University’s pretty cool there.”
He raises his pierced eyebrow, amused. Me go to school? That’s a funny idea. I barely made it through high school.
“Hey, I was the same way. In fact, I almost dropped out,” I tell him, feeling strange that I’m talking about my past so lightly. “And I actually like college.”
Really? He mouths and I nod. He pauses, looking back at his dad who was never there for him growing up, beaten up and passed out drunk on the sofa and then mouths to me, Maybe one day.
I nod then he gives Luke and I his phone number and we finish saying good-bye. Then Luke and I hit the road. It’s early, the sky glowing orange from the sunrise, which means we should get there before sunset. We’re a few days earlier then we planned, which means we’ll be missing less classes and I think Luke and I can both appreciate that fact. We spend half the drive listening to his music and he playfully tells me he’s going to make us a f**k tape of our own when we get home. He keeps saying we and I know I should be grateful, that I have a place to live with people who care about me, but it’s scaring me at the same time. God, if I could just have one more moment with my parents so they could tell me that this is all okay. That I’m doing the right thing.
As I’m in the middle of this thought, my phone starts to vibrate from inside my pocket. I quickly turn down the music and take out my phone, letting out a breath of relief when I see the screen. “It’s the detective,” I tell Luke and he nods, looking as nervous as me.
“Please say you can tell me now,” I say as I put the phone up to my ear.
“I can, but it’s both good and bad news,” he tells me, sounding a bit disheartened. “The good news is I finally got that warrant to search Mira Price’s home. And we found something that could be potentially useful but we’ll still need to run some DNA tests right now to confirm.” He gives a long pause. “And then there’s the bad news. Two bad newes actually.”
“That’s not even a word.” I make a joke to attempt to hide my true feelings. That I’m excited and terrified at the same time. They might have evidence. My parents might finally have justice.
Luke gives me a concerned sideways glance as he steers the truck down the freeway. “Is everything okay?” he whispers.
I shrug and whisper back, “I’ll let you know in a minute.”
“Well, I’m declaring it a word for this conversation,” he says and then sighs, losing all humor. “The first bad news is that Mira is MIA and from talking to the neighbors and landlord, she’s been gone for a while.”
I glance over at Luke, wondering if he might know where she is. “So what does that mean exactly?”
“It means that even if we can make the arrest, we have to find her first.”
I want to hit something. Scream until my lungs burst. This isn’t fair! This isn’t fair. God dammit! “And what’s the second thing?” My voice shakes as my pulse hammers.
It takes him a second or two to answer and when he does, he sounds reluctant. “We found out who’s been sending those texts to you… We tracked the calls to Preston Parkington, the guy you’ve been living with.”
“What?” I exclaim, ready to bombard him with questions and Luke’s head whips in my direction. “But that’s not even possible… how could he… I don’t get it…” What the hell? Is this my punishment? For messing up?
“It gets worse,” Detective Stephner says. “Due to the threatening material in the text, we were in the right to go to his house and question him, but the trailer had been vacated when we got there.”
“But he was just living there a few days ago... I was there… I saw him.” My heart is thrashing in my chest, my pulse soaring a million miles a minute and I hate the adrenaline rush inside me right now, so much. “He has to be doing this to get back at me, because I left.”
“That’s what I thought too, but then I started doing some research on him, a background check and what not and found out a few things that have brought up a big concern.”
“Like what?”
“Like he has a record. The fact that he changed his name about fourteen years ago. He used to go by Danny Huntersonly.”
“But why would he change his name?” I shake my head, trying to ignore Luke’s worried look boring into the side of my head. “And why would child services ever let him take me in?”
“Well, technically the papers state that his girlfriend took you in. A Kelley Arlingford was registered with the state to foster parent.”
“Kelley was his wife.” I grip the door handle for support because I’m veering toward hyperventilation and feel like I’m going to pass out. “When she introduced him to me, she said Preston was her husband and then they got divorced and Preston was talking about how a while ago she was getting remarried.” As soon as I say it though, I know there’s a huge flaw. Because most of my information comes from Preston, so therefore there’s a chance almost everything could be a lie.
“Well, she was lying to you then and the state apparently,” he says. “In your records, Kelley lived alone and the state didn’t even know about Preston, at least from the reports. It’s kind of a flaw in the system I guess, not making sure there was no one living with her. But when children get to be that old… and there’s so maybe of them… sometimes they slip through the cracks.”
He’s telling me stuff I already know, since I lived in those cracks for years. “Did Kelley know about Preston? I mean, did she know about his name change and past?”
“I don’t know, but we’re going to try and find out.” Another pause. “There’s more.”
“Oh God.” My head falls forward and Luke’s hand slides across the seat, his fingers lace through mine, and I hold onto him for dear life. “I don’t think I can take anymore.”
“You need to hear this,” the detective says. “You need to understand the severity.”
“Fine.” I clutch onto Luke’s hand so tightly I’m sure it hurts. “Go head.”
“Did you know Preston had a secret room under his house.”
“Yeah… well, no…” Shit. What do I say? That I knew he kept drugs there. “Well, he kept it locked but I knew that it existed.”
“I figured you didn’t, considering what was in there.”
“Which was what?”
Another pause. I’m beginning to hate the silence. “A room with pictures and articles of you all over the wall… even some of your parents.”
“I don’t understand… why would he have that?” I mean, I know he wanted me and everything but that seems like the move of a stalker… “Why is he doing this? It doesn’t make any sense? I mean, he was always a little weird and controlling, but why all of a sudden would he resort to threatening texts and a crazy room full of pictures?”
He sighs again and I prepare myself for another blow to the gut. “Violet, I’m not sure how much you know about your parents, but back in the beginning of the case there were few suggestions that no one every really mentioned to you, simply because you were too young and honestly we didn’t want it getting out to the public. Keeping certain details a secret can better help us convict the right person. However, now I think you might need to know, but I want you to prepare yourself for it.”
“Okay, I’m prepared.” Biggest lie I ever told and I wouldn’t have had the guts to say it if I would have known what he was going to say next.
“During the first investigation of your parents, the lead detective on the case found some details about your parents—well, your mother anyway—that connected them to a few local drug dealers. It was a past thing, I think that ended a few years after you were born when your mother married your father.”
“No, my mother married my dad before I was born,” I say, but really I have no idea—I barely no anything about them, having lost them at such a young age.
“No, she married him when you were about three years old,” he says. “After she got her act together and got out of rehab, but her past was still chasing her and she owed the wrong people some money. The police were never quite able to track down the people in question and honestly all evidence pointed to a random burglary, but after digging into Preston’s previous records, I discovered he was living in Cheyenne area at the time and dealing drugs… and some of the pictures he had of you… you were younger.”
“No… you’re f**king lying.” I shake my head over and over until I get dizzy. “You’re lying, you’re lying, you’re lying. I didn’t live with my parent’s killer. That would never happen.” Unless it was done on purpose? Oh my God, was it somehow done on purpose by Preston?
“I’m not saying he’s their killer in any way shape or form,” he says in a gentle voice. “It’s more than likely that he might have developed an obsession with you since most of what we found points toward stalker behavior, which happens sometimes with public cases like these, but I want you to have the details now, just in case.”
Just in case what?
Just in case what?
Just in case what?
The words echo inside my head over and over again until suddenly I’m seeing Preston’s face in the memory, the one where I’m in the basement and he’s yelling at Mira Price while she sings and sings and sings. So clearly. But is it just because it was suggested or did I finally put the pieces together.
“No! My mom never did drugs… they were good people…” And to me, the six year-old with beautiful dreams, they were. They were perfect. And I want to remember them that way. I want to erase everything he said, forget I ever heard it, but I can’t.
“I’m not saying they were bad,” he tells me. “People that do drugs aren’t necessarily bad people. They just made some bad choices and your mother cleaned up her act. She just struggled to erase her past.”
Like mother like daughter.
“Violet, I’d need to ask you some more questions about Preston and what’s been going on while you’ve been living there with him.” A pause. “It’s important in order for us to track him down.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t see. Everything is spinning, round and round and round. All mixed up. All wrong. I can feel the truck pulling over as I gasp for air. As soon as it stops, I drop the phone seat, open the door, and fall out of the truck onto my knees. Gravel splits open my knees and the palms of my hand as I dry heave, gasping for air my lungs won’t give me.
Adrenaline overload. One I didn’t cause. But one that feels like it’s going to kill me. And honestly, I wish it would.
Chapter 16
Luke
She’s scaring the shit out of me. She won’t talk. Will barely move. I have to lift her back into the truck. Once I get her inside and get the door shut, I climb in the driver’s side then pick up her phone off the seat, which has been ringing since she dropped it.
“Hello?” I answer, my arm moving around Violet as she lowers herself down onto the seat and puts her head on my lap. She clutches onto my jeans, still not moving, barely blinking as she stares ahead into nothingness as if she’s completely and utterly lost.
“Who is this?” someone asks on the other end of the line.
“Luke… Price.”
“Oh…” He sounds uneasy. “This is Detective Stephner. Is Violet there with you?”
“She is but she can’t talk right now,” I tell him, smoothing my hand over her head, which seems to be helping, her breathing settling just a little bit, but her eyes are still so hollow. “What exactly did you say to her?”
“I’m not at liberty to tell you that.” He pauses. “Are you guys back in Laramie yet?”
I glance at the road in front of us. “No, we’re headed back now and are about halfway there... why?”
“Well, I would suggest turning around and taking Violet with you to stay somewhere just for a few days,” he says. “Just until we can get some answers about someone.”
I continue to run my fingers up and down Violets cheek and she nuzzles into my touch. “Does this have anything to do with my mother?” I ask quietly.
“You need to talk to Violet. That’s all I’m going to say,” he replies in a formal tone. “Have her call me as soon as she calms down.”
“Okay,” I tell him then we hang up and I put the phone on the dashboard and stare down at her; her head on my lap, her eyes so full of fear. “Baby do you want to talk about it?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice even. I don’t want to push her, but I’m desperate to know if this has to do with my mother.
She shakes her head and closes her eyes as my fingers brush through her hair. “No, not yet.”
My hand pauses in her hair. “The detective… he said maybe it’d be better if you stayed away from Laramie for a bit.”
“Okay, you can leave me on the side of the road.” She’s not joking either. In fact, she sounds hopeful that I’ll do it.
I’m not sure how long I stay parked on the side of the freeway, trying to figure out what to do—where to take her. Back to Vegas? I don’t want to do that, don’t want to go back to that kind of environment. There’s only one other choice, one I have to swallow up what little pride‘s left, before I take out the phone and dial my dad’s number. He answers after two rings and I sputter it out before I back out.