Twisted by Hannah Jayne(11)

Another few moments passed, and then there was a cacophony of honking and a stressed-looking Denise screeching into the driveway. She frantically rolled down the passenger-side window and pushed open the car door.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she said before Bex could reach the car. “We got absolutely swamped at the station. The news editor is out sick, and my editor’s water broke and—”

“It’s okay.” Bex smiled, pulling the door open farther. “You’re not really late. Everyone just takes off the second the bell rings, I guess.”

The look on Denise’s face softened and she grinned back. “I love that you haven’t learned teenage angst yet.”

Bex slid into the passenger seat, her temperature still rising, her heart still thundering in her chest. When her cell phone buzzed, it nearly sent her into a tizzy. Denise glanced at her, and Bex forced a nonchalant chuckle.

“Oh,” she muttered, when her heart no longer threatened to launch itself from her mouth. “It’s just Chelsea.” She flicked her thumb over the message.

Chng-o-plns. Bonfire 2night @ corollabeach. Still cant find that skank darla!!!!

? ? ?

Bex dropped her backpack in her closet when she got home from school. She glanced at it sitting there in the half dark among her shoes and new cleats. Even though the stupid postcard was buried inside under her books, her gym clothes, and a few notes from Chelsea and Laney, it still seemed menacing. Taunting.

She was pulling the closet door shut when Denise knocked on the door frame. “Hey, Bex,” she said. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” Bex dropped into her desk chair while Denise took a spot on the bed. “You okay, hon? You seemed a little distracted on the drive home.”

Bex bit her lip. “Oh, yeah. It’s nothing. Just tired.”

“You know you can talk to me or Michael about anything, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Thanks.”

There was a slow pause. Then, “So, do you have any plans for tonight?”

“Well, Laney and Trevor and them are going to have a bonfire. Someplace called Corolla Beach?” She couldn’t stop herself from shooting a glance toward the closet, toward the postcard. “But I don’t think I’m going. I’m kind of tired.”

“Oh no! You should totally go! Corolla Beach is beautiful!”

“It’ll be dark,” Bex said, laughing.

“The beach is beautiful at night. And high school bonfires are a tradition. But”—Denise held up her hands—“it’s totally up to you.”

“What’s going on in here?” Michael poked his head through Bex’s open door, eyes narrowed as he feigned a suspicious glare.

“I am just telling our daughter that bonfires at Corolla Beach are a high school tradition.”

“Aw, we used to bonfire on the beach too! Bunch of guys, bunch of girls, bunch of blankets…” His voice trailed off and then he shook his head emphatically. “No. No bonfires on the beach. Bonfires, blankets, bad. You know what’s fun? Hanging out with your parents and a gluten-free pizza. So fun. Right, Denise?”

“Don’t worry, Michael. Bex wasn’t going to go anyway.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Bex said, starting to smile. “You’ve suddenly made beach bonfires sound very appealing.”

Michael moved to protest, and Denise put a hand on his arm. “What if she promises to avoid blankets?”

? ? ?

The drive to Corolla Beach took nearly forty-five minutes and Bex, Laney, and Chelsea laughed the entire way. Trevor and his friends had left ahead of them, tasked with finding wood and building the bonfire. As Laney navigated the last few winding miles toward the beach, Chelsea turned down the radio and leaned over the backseat.

“Okay, Bex. We have to tell you something about Corolla Beach.”

“Let me guess. It’s not really a beach? Or, wait, it’s a nude beach?” She waggled her eyebrows but sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.

“No.” Laney laughed from the driver’s seat. “And, Chelsea, way to make it sound so ominous. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Chelsea gaped. “It’s totally a big deal. Someone died there.”

Bex felt the smile drop from her lips, her blood running cold. “What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

“A girl drowned there when we were freshman.”

Bex could finally breathe again—not that drowning made anything better, but it wasn’t murder. It wasn’t anything like what her father had done.

Allegedly. The voice, nearly a breathless whisper, was at the back of her mind again. She clenched her teeth against the unwanted intrusion. Innocent men don’t run, Bex’s mind ticked. She tried to push her father and his crimes—alleged or otherwise—out of her thoughts.

“That’s awful,” Bex said.

“Yeah. And someone tried to murder a young couple there last summer.”

Bex bit her lip. “And we’re going there, why?”

“Oh”—Chelsea spun back to sit forward in her seat—“that guy got caught. Or died. Or something. It’s not like he’s still out there lurrrrrking in the night, looking for his next kill.” She pounced on Laney, who screamed and swerved the car, its headlights cutting yellow streaks over the dunes and beach grass.