The Inmate (38)

“Fine. If you say so…”

I perform a neuro exam, verifying that there’s nothing concerning that would require me to send Shane out for a scan of his head. He looks fine though, like he said. Just the bruise on his head. Although I notice the way he winces when I shine my penlight in his eyes. He has a worse headache than he’s letting on.

“Do you want anything stronger for that headache?”

He massages his fingers into his temple. “No, it’s fine. I had a Tylenol. I can manage.”

I have no idea why Elise wrote “drug-seeking” in his chart. The guy is clearly in pain and he doesn’t even want to ask for anything. “You look pretty uncomfortable. I can give you a Fioricet, if you want?”

He nods gratefully. “Okay, sure, I’ll have some of that.”

“No problem.”

“Also…” His brown eyes peer up at me. “I promise I won’t bring up that thing we were talking about yesterday ever again.”

My jaw tightens. “Good.”

“I know what you think of me,” he says, “and I know whatever I say to you, you won’t take it seriously…”

“Shane…”

“But there’s just one thing I have to tell you…” His words come out quickly, like he’s afraid I’m going to leave before he finishes, which is a real possibility. “I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t say it…”

“Please don’t do this, Shane…”

“You need to stay away from Reese.” His slightly bloodshot eyes are huge staring up at me. “Just do that for me. Okay?”

“Shane…”

“I don’t care if you think I’m a… a killer,” he chokes out. “Just… you’ve got to stay away from Tim Reese. He’s dangerous. Please, Brooke.”

I look into his eyes, and there’s real fear there. A chill goes down my spine. I don’t know how he could think Tim is dangerous. Tim is so obviously not dangerous. I could never believe that about him. Shane has to be faking it.

He has to be.

“Fine,” I say.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He leans back against the bed, his facial features relaxing. “Thank you, Brooke.”

It won’t be the first time I’ve lied to him.





Chapter 25


ELEVEN YEARS EARLIER



Chelsea is kneeling over Brandon’s body, sobbing quietly. She reaches out a hand and runs it over his slack jaw. The rest of us stand on the porch, the boys shifting uncomfortably. Shane must be gutted over this too—Brandon was his best friend—but he hasn’t said much of anything since we discovered the body. Not that I’d expect a teenage guy to start bawling the way Chelsea is.

Chelsea raises her tear-streaked face to look at us. “What are we going to do with the body?”

Shane and Tim exchange looks. “We’re going to leave him here,” Shane says.

“You’re just going to leave him?” Chelsea bursts out as she rises to her feet. “Out in the cold?”

I don’t say what the rest of us are thinking, which is that Brandon isn’t going to be bothered by the cold. Not anymore.

“I’ve got some extra blankets in the linen closet,” Shane offers, “if you want one.”

Chelsea hesitates for a second, then nods. Shane goes back into the house while the three of us wait on the porch. Tim is standing just a couple of inches away from me—so close that I can almost feel the heat of his body. He reaches out his hand and makes contact with mine, giving it a comforting squeeze for a split second before the door bangs open again and Shane returns with the blanket.

The wool blanket is sky blue and looks like it would be itchy, except Brandon isn’t going to mind very much. Chelsea gently lays the blanket over his lower body, pausing as if not sure if she should put it over his head or not. Finally, she covers his face too, turning her boyfriend into nothing more than a darkening lump on the front porch.

She presses her fingertips to her lips, then holds them out to him. “I love you, baby.”

Did she though? Did she really? Only yesterday we were talking on the phone and she said, I hate that cheating asshole.

She looks back at the rest of us as if expecting us to chime in. I hardly knew Brandon, and what I knew of him, I didn’t much like. But I don’t want to leave Chelsea hanging, so I murmur, “We’ll miss you, Brandon.”

“Miss you,” Tim chimes in after a beat, even though he disliked Brandon as much as I did.

Chelsea looks at Shane, whose eyes have gone glassy. “We’re going to find who did this to you, man,” Shane says. “And we’re going to make him pay.”

_____



Now that we’ve said our goodbyes to Brandon, Chelsea consents to going back into the house to figure out our options for our next move. Unfortunately, those options are limited. The phone lines are dead, either from the storm or something more ominous. The tires are slashed on both of our two vehicles. And the storm outside is still raging as bad as it ever was.

“Kayla didn’t have much luck walking back to the main road.” Chelsea stands in the middle of the living room, wringing water out of her long hair. “But I bet one of you guys could make it. It’s not that far, is it? Like, a mile?”