Black Bird of the Gallows(21)
“Reece!” Fiona calls out. “Roger pooped on the patio!”
He steps away from me slowly, hands spread. Cold air replaces the zinging warmth on my face. “Duty calls,” he says, backing away.
“This isn’t over,” I hiss, to remind him that his charm hasn’t zapped all my wits. If anything, I’m more determined than ever to figure out what his deal is.
“Yes, it is.” His voice is low and edged with frustration.
I whistle and Roger runs from the back of the house toward me. Except, he doesn’t come to me, he goes to Reece, bumps his head into the boy’s hand. Reece pets him, scratching behind one floppy ear. He considers me. I know my jaw is jutting, my expression mulish.
“Leave it alone, Angie. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt when it can be avoided.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No.” His eyes widen in surprise. “It’s… I just want you to stay safe.”
“I see.” I run my tongue over my teeth. “Message received.” But I’m not leaving this alone. I feel like I’ve stumbled into an altered world, and I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering what I saw, what I know I saw.
10-the stalking experiment
This is lunacy. It is six something on a school night. I should be locked in my basement music studio or doing homework.
But no. I’m following Reece Fernandez. If my strategically timed walk with Roger yesterday was a little questionable, this surely qualifies as stalking. It is shameful, and by far the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. My heart pounds. My hands shake from an overdose of adrenaline. When I got it into my head to see where he went after school, I didn’t think it would involve slinking around Cadence’s east side.
After going home, I employed Dad’s binoculars again. Pathetic, yes, but I was able to see when Cody Knox—one of Reece’s new hockey buds—came by and picked him up. I had just enough time to grab my keys and purse and jump into my car to follow them. Reece had not yet seen my car. What a perfect disguise it was. Reece and Cody stopped at Shopmart, after which they exchanged friendly good-byes. Cody left in his car and Reece started off on foot.
So did I. I was feeling pretty proud of myself. He couldn’t know I was following him. I’m good at disguises. I wore a boxy black coat, loose jeans, and I tucked my hair up under a short-brimmed wool hat. The idea was to disguise my gender somewhat. If, at quick glance, I could look like a boy, he’d be less likely to recognize me. It was possible. I gave him a decent lead.
It was all going just fine. Until it became evident where he was walking to.
Cadence, which sits in a wide valley, is a decent-sized town. Certainly big enough for no one to know everyone. It also didn’t entirely bounce back after the mines were closed, so there exists the east end of Cadence, which is a small, downtown section, not-so-affectionately nicknamed The Dredge, named after its main drag of Dredge Street. Every effort to “revitalize” The Dredge has failed. It remains one of the only areas of Cadence that doesn’t sport pretty coffee shops and boutiques with water bowls set out for dogs. However, if you’re looking to purchase an illegal substance or sell something you shouldn’t have, The Dredge is your go-to. The few remaining open storefronts are pawnshops and seedy bars.
It’s getting dark. The shadows are making it harder to see Reece, dressed in dark jeans and a gray coat. At first, I think he’s going back to The Strip Mall, which is a few blocks away on the outskirts of town, but he doesn’t. He seems a little aimless. Maybe he’s supposed to meet someone. Is he here to buy drugs? My stomach sinks at the thought.
I’m about to turn around and head back to my car when Reece veers into a parking lot. We’re at the Mountain View Gardens, an apartment complex that’s in the local news way too often, and never in a good way. The four-story structure looks more like a postapocalyptic ruin than a residence. There is a view of a mountain, but it’s hard to avoid them around here. Even the town dump has a mountain view.
Reece stops at the curb, next to the dented guardrail dividing a mostly empty parking lot from the highway. He looks so casual, standing there.
I flatten against the building, about thirty feet from him. I pull my scarf over my mouth to hide the white puffs of my breath. My heart beats, fast. Something about this feels off-kilter. I can’t place it, can’t define it. Time has sped up and slowed down at the same time.
What are you doing here, Reece?
And then—
A set of wobbling headlights wrenches my attention from Reece. The sound of screaming tires makes me jump, and a brown sedan skids into the shoulder. It slams hard against the guardrail. Metal screeches, shooting sparks into the darkening evening. The tires catch, and the car flips. A scream lodges in my throat as it smashes upside down in the parking lot. One wheel spins like a rolling eye.
I can’t move. I’m like a frozen computer—processing, processing. I feel like I’m choking on my own tongue. Sound won’t leave my mouth.
Reece stands there. He just watches. Then, with the laze of a stretching cat, he pushes off the mangled guardrail and ambles toward the crashed car. It adds to the surreal quality of the moment. Makes me question what I’m look at with my own eyes.
Forget it—I’m done stalking. My legs are shaking terribly, but I lurch forward, pointing at the car. Someone is in there. Someone is probably hurt. Terror coils in my gut at the prospect of what carnage lies inside the car, knowing I lack the skills to help, but I have to do something.