He sounded so off, weird.
And he faced the window again.
We drove in silence for another few moments before something on the radio took my attention. My head shot forward, and Dorian’s did too.
“Officials say the woman found at the old Prinze textile factory on Glen has been identified as Elaine Mayberry,” the radio said. “As this community knows, Mayberry was the headmaster of the prestigious Windsor Preparatory Academy.”
They were talking about our principal, the woman Dorian had been accused of murdering only moments before.
Dorian looked sheet white, and Callum asked Lucas to turn up the radio. He obviously recognized the name too. I’d told him all about the situation with Dorian.
“Officials also say a suspect surrounding her death has not only been apprehended, but they have an active confession on the record as well. Douglas Abernathy admitted to strangling and bludgeoning the woman following a recent debt she had to him surrounding illegal substances.”
“Oh my God.” The words fell from my lips. I’d known she died, but I hadn’t known the details. My attention shifted to Dorian. “Callum, maybe we shouldn’t be listening to this…”
It was probably hard for Dorian to hear anything about that woman. This was too close to home.
Dorian raised a hand.
“I want to hear it,” Dorian said, his voice quiet. He appeared haunted. “Keep it playing.”
The news broadcast continued on, but gratefully didn’t say any more details surrounding the murder itself. This was all completely messed up, fucked up.
“This news comes as a surprise,” the broadcast stated, “especially surrounding the recent controversy and confession surrounding Maywood Heights’s star quarterback Charlie Lindquist and a shocking affair he had with Mayberry herself. An affair that Mayberry admitted to in a video that went viral this morning after being posted anonymously to the Windsor Preparatory Academy’s academic website.”
I waited a second before looking at Dorian, not wanting to make a huge declaration about the video. Callum didn’t know about that, and I didn’t want to make it seem any of us knew the details about it.
Dorian wasn’t even breathing, let alone moving. He simply stared ahead, his fingers to his lips.
“As our listeners and the entire Maywood Heights community knows, Charlie was involved in an unfortunate shooting just last year in Mayberry’s home, in which her husband shot the young man before pulling the gun on himself. After this morning’s anonymously posted video, there are definitely some holes that have been filled in there. As the community also knows, Charlie was a well-loved member of the Maywood Heights community. His family, the respected and esteemed Prinzes, have helped to lay the foundations of this town, and our hearts go out to the family once again. The station is currently attempting to get a statement from the Prinze family surrounding today’s events. The family has expressed no comment at this time, but we hope to hear something soon. We will wait on your behalf, dear listeners, and worry not, you’ll be the first to know when we know.”
“Those fuckers are probably parked out in my neighborhood,” Dorian gritted. Though I believed mostly to himself. He scrubbed his face. “That’s probably why everyone was blowing up my phone earlier.”
Shit.
The “news” kept going on with their drivel, talking about Dorian’s family like they were simply a news story and not real people. Eventually, I asked Callum if he could shut it off, and he did, quickly.
“Very unfortunate,” my guardian said from up front. “My heart goes out to you and your family, Dorian.”
Dorian’s head shot up, his eyes narrowed.
Callum nodded, his eyes direct in the mirror. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. This must be so hard for your family.” His head lifted. “It’s a good thing everything worked out today for you. I can imagine your family wouldn’t want to deal with another thing. Your parents especially.”
A tight muscle feathered in Dorian’s jaw, all this obviously too much.
The car was slowing.
We’d returned to the cabin, both Dorian’s car and my brother’s Audi (the car I’d driven here) in sight and at not a moment too soon. Dorian obviously had to leave.
And he was so pale. He honest to God looked like he’d be sick.
“Thanks for the ride,” he ground out, trying to get out. He clicked open the door, then pushed himself through, the door slamming behind him. He stalked his way over to his car, and I unstrapped myself from the seat.
“Thanks for helping him,” I said to Callum on my way out too, stopping long enough to do that. The man had done so much, and really, he hadn’t had to at all. He just kept doing favors for me, for me and my brother and taking care of us.
Shifting around, Callum’s smile was small. “Of course. I hope things work out for your friend.”
I hoped so too.