“The man was clearly troubled,” Dad stated, his jaw tense. “Because after he saw what he did, that it was Charlie and not an intruder, he turned the gun on himself. Blew himself away right in front of his wife.”
I couldn’t hear this. I didn’t believe this.
It was bullshit.
I refused to believe it and left the room.
“Dorian—”
I ignored my father, taking my keys. I got into my car and drove all the way to the high hills.
I was there in moments.
It was like a police shootout had occurred there, cop cars everywhere and news reporters filling the streets. The scene was a nightmare, a cluster fuck, and I honked my way as close as I could get. I ended up leaving my car in the street and hadn’t cared if someone stole it or did whatever the fuck they wanted.
This is a lie.
This was my recurring thought as I ran, lies everywhere. It was a lie that Charlie was dead. It was a lie that all this was happening.
I stood at the yellow tape. The scene was completely blocked off by the cops. Suddenly, the shutters flew, and the reporters and photographers redirected their attention to a pale woman being escorted out of the house. She was underneath the arm of a female officer, the woman guiding her off the property.
They had Principal Mayberry under a blanket.
Her eyes were red, her expression vacant. Tear lines tracked down her face, and when the female officer placed her in a cop car, my headmaster stared out the window. Principal Mayberry blinked amongst the lights and shutters of the cameras. Her expression was blank.
But then she spotted me.
Her mouth parted, her eyes wide. She stared at me like all the answers were there, and I merely had to see them in her eyes to decipher them. She sat there like there were far more answers inside that house than what I’d been told.
She was a lie.
She was lying, and I stared at her now. Charlie had been thoroughly shaken after finding out Coach Mayberry was still with his wife. After finding out his ex-girlfriend was still with her abusive husband. He hadn’t come over to this neighborhood tonight to jog.
I knew that in my gut.
That woman had something to do with this. She did something, and I watched as the cops drove her away. She shifted in her seat, staring at me through the rearview mirror. There were more answers that needed to be found out here and once I found them…
I was going to end her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dorian - present
The text came from Thatcher as I reentered Maywood Heights’s city limits, but I didn’t check it until I stopped at a streetlight.
Thatcher: Did you do it?
I had, picking up my phone off the seat.
Me: It’s done.
I tossed the phone after that. The light changed, but the phone flashed again, and I couldn’t help but look over.
Wells: You okay?
Word certainly traveled fast between my friends. Thatcher had obviously texted Wells.
I had no more words for my friends, so I let the text go.