Impregnated gray clouds sulked beyond the university bookstore’s windows. Despite the tension, the weight, something held back the rain.
Kenna had parted ways with that feeling. She’d been cast the victim all her life, with her family, with Reid, and then Dayton. That part of her was dead. Gone.
She intended to show him that she wasn’t some naive, weak girl who was easily manipulated. Summer was fading into fall, an entire season separating them, and the tables had turned. She had seen his ‘help wanted’ ads around town and it wasn’t a matter of if she’d apply, but when, and though the daunting errand of hand-delivering the application to his office mailbox had required several days of recuperation, she teemed with triumph in the end.
A surge of power coursed through her as she stalked along the psychology aisle, fingers lazily swiping across the spines of books as she went, feeling like a femme fatale. She considered her good fortune. Grad school started next week and the man who’d wronged her was helpless in the face of her demands. The sense of power, the certainty and control attached to it, was soothing.
Until it morphed into guilt.
Dayton had caused her suffering, yes, but instead of healing, forgiving, and moving on, her heart insisted on vengeance. She wanted to watch him suffer as she’d been made to. But what would it solve? It was then she knew that corrupt line of thinking was his influence. Kenna sought out confessional every week that summer, fearing he had stained her heart with malevolence—something black and festering and impossible to evict.
What kept her awake at night was not the bitterness that had invaded her soul but rather what was buried beneath it, the fluttering in her stomach when she hovered over Dayton’s contact info on her phone or the racing of her pulse every time she saw the dead bouquet of garnet roses that still adorned her dresser. Petals black and crisp with no chance of revival.
On days she stared long enough, whether it was a trick of the light or pure hallucination, she swore new growth emerged on the dry stems; tiny, blossoming leaves clinging to a life that had been predestined to fail.
“Am I looking in the wrong place for Psych 101 or am I just going crazy?” Liza’s buttery voice cut through her inner monologue, reminding her that she wasn’t alone on the textbook shopping crusade.
Her big, whiskey-colored eyes locked on Kenna from where she stood on the other side of the waist-height bookshelf, long lashes brushing her square brows.
Alex had moved back to Phoenix following the completion of her M.F.A. program. The day she left, they’d shared a crushing hug in the parking lot of their apartment complex where her ride to the airport was waiting. She had urged Kenna to ‘stay out of trouble’ before shedding a few tears and slipping into the backseat. She watched as Alex rode away in that car, not knowing what she knew.
The box. The perversion.
And though keeping that hideous secret had weighed her down like a ton of steel, it was better that way.
There was nothing left for Alex in Branch Spring. She belonged in Arizona, with her family. She’d settle into her new life, her career, and one day—with any luck—Dayton Merino would be a distant memory.
Liza Singh had proved to be a decent roommate in the three months they’d shared an apartment. She was clean, and quiet. They stayed out of each other’s way. Kenna knew their true test of compatibility would come with the start of fall semester, when stress levels spiked and responsibilities were in full swing.
Kenna blew at the little sprigs of hair that had sprung free from her bun before flashing a reassuring smile. “No, you’re not crazy. You know who’s crazy? The people who stock this place. Go comb the sociology section and report back.”
“Sociology? Seriously?”
She mouthed ‘I know.’ Her basket had filled up a while ago but she was in no hurry to leave. Something delightfully infectious lurked within the bookstore, the prospect of rain and the endless possibilities of a new term on the horizon.
The gentle thrum of her phone vibrating against her thigh rooted Kenna to the spot. Everything unfolded in slow motion as she retrieved it from her pocket. She dared a look at the caller ID and it felt like her breath had been cut off.
A covert glance to the left showed that Liza lingered several aisles away. It was safe to answer.
But did she want to?
Accepting the call would send Lucifer’s voice slithering into her ear. All of that control she’d held in such high esteem crumbled as she stared at the white letters spanning her screen.Dr. Merino.
Hand shaking, she managed, “Talk.”
“You win, kid. Send me your schedule.”
Click.
His speech was concise but she felt as though he’d reached through the phone and seized her throat. Struck by the dizzying aftermath of a thousand pirouettes, Kenna grabbed onto the nearest shelf for support and as she gripped its cool metal, everything around her spun, reducing the bookstore to swipes of light and color.
Dayton was operating under the assumption that she’d get his medical license revoked if he didn’t give her the job. What he didn’t know was that she had already sought out another avenue for justice.
The Branch Spring Police Department.
They’d informed her nothing could be done about the Polaroids—she may not have had the actual copies, but she came armed with documented evidence on her phone—citing that they were a far cry from criminal activity. When Kenna told the officers the photos belonged to a well-respected man in the community, they more or less laughed in her face and shoved her out the precinct’s door.
But the malice in Dayton’s tone suggested that, to him, the threat against his career, his freedom, was alive and well.