The Escape. Part 9

"Chief Templeton!" A woman in a maroon suit shoved her hand in the air. "Would you consider the people of Dan River Falls in any danger? There is, after all, a killer on the loose, and you said yourself the police department has virtually no leads."

Avery watched her father stiffen before sliding right back into his controlled public persona.

"We believe that this was an isolated incident and that the people of this community are in no imminent danger. That being said, always be aware and alert. Lock your doors. Act in a safe manner. And with all due respect, ma'am, I didn't say that the police department was without leads. By clearing our suspect, we're one person closer to the perpetrator. That is all."

The reporters broke into a frenzy like sharks circling their prey. Avery could almost hear their snapping jaws as they clamored to get their questions answered before her father disappeared into the police station.

When the woman in maroon ducked out of the frame, Avery sucked in a shocked breath.

Fletcher was at the press conference.

He was on the periphery of the swarm, the bandage on his head half hidden by a baseball hat pulled low and the yellowing bruises on his face shaded by the bill of his cap.

While everyone around him hummed with excitement at the chief's comments, Fletcher just stood there. And as the camera panned out, he threw his leg over his bike and rode away.

Fletcher's heart pounded like a kettledrum as he rode his bike, and he made a mental note to google if stress could give a kid a heart attack. That's what it was, right? Stress? He didn't want to admit that he was scared by the vision he kept having.

In it, the sun shone through the redwoods, and he and Adam were alone. Fletcher could feel something take over his body, making his muscles stiffen and hum. He watched his own hands curl into fists. He could feel his arm lift, but he couldn't control it. He couldn't control the recoil or the punch. As the vision grew clearer, he saw each punch as it landed on Adam. Smack! But he never saw more because he always started panting, his arms aching.

Normalcy. That's what he craved. A day where every moment was linked to the next with clarity, where every moment was actually lived, not under cover of blackness or accompanied by the sc.r.a.ping ache in his head.

He rode down the main road. When he looked up, he saw Avery's house was at the end of the block, yellow lights blazing from every window. He considered stopping until he saw Chief Templeton's black GMC round the corner. He didn't want to talk to the police again.

The smell of mu shu pork wafted through the door with Avery's father. He held up the paper bag and grinned.

"I cooked."

Avery took the bag from him and began removing the takeout boxes. "Ah, your very best recipes. Did you bring hot mustard?'

He flipped a handful of yellow packets from his coat pocket. "Bam!"

"Full-service chef."

He frowned, taking Avery's chin between his forefinger and thumb. "Looks like I should have brought a steak. Karen told me what happened. Are you okay?"

Avery shrugged and did her best mean expression. "Does it make me look tough?"

"No, it makes me nervous."

Avery stuck spoons in each of the boxes and set out two plates. "Don't be. It was Jimmy Jerold's girlfriend-I think. But since the school has a zero-tolerance policy, she'll be expelled."

"What do you mean 'you think'?"

She began heaping fried rice onto her plate. "I know she was the one who pushed me, but I'm not completely sure that this"-she pointed-"came from her." She pressed her cheek closer to her father. "Want to dust it for prints?"

"Avery, this is serious. You were in a fight."

"With a girl who's dating a murderer."

"We let him go, Avy."

She handed her father a plate. "I know." She paused. "Are you sure he didn't do it though?"

"He had a virtually airtight alibi and no motive for killing Adam or attacking Fletcher."

"Couldn't his motive be that he's an a.s.shole?"

Chief Templeton c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "Language."

"Couldn't his motive be that he's a psychopath?"

"Sure, but given his alibi"-he stretched out the word-"he didn't do it."

A tremor of fear rushed through Avery. "So, no leads, huh?"

"We're working on a few. You really should get some more ice on that." He set his plate down and crossed the kitchen, handing Avery a bag of frozen peas.

"I'm scared, Dad. Someone killed Adam and tried to kill Fletcher. Are we safe?"

Chief Templeton took the peas and the plate from Avery's hands and pulled her into a hug. "You're always going to be safe as long as I'm here, honey. I will never let anything happen to you." He kissed the top of her head.

"I know. But-"

"The whole town is on high alert. Everyone, except you and Fletcher apparently, is taking the curfew very seriously, and I've got every officer working this case. You know Karen and Blount, Malloy and Howard-you're top priority for them."

"Yeah. Officer Blount went to see Fletcher in the hospital."

"We're doing everything we can. And we've got leads coming in by the dozen."

Avery brightened. "Anything good?"

Her father took a bite of an egg roll. "Depends what you mean by good. We've heard about aliens, forest trolls, and a bear with a mean right hook."

"Not funny, Dad."

He put both his hands on Avery's shoulders and looked her in the eye. "We're doing everything we can."

Suddenly, the smell of the Chinese food made Avery's stomach turn. She remembered the last time a police officer told her they were "doing everything" they could. It was a week after her mother died. She and her father were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, staring at a Highway Patrol officer who was a.s.suring them that they would find the driver responsible for hitting Avery's mother, for running her off the road.

They never did.

Avery was sure she was going to be sick.

"We're bringing in a guy who says he remembers seeing Adam and Fletcher at the trailhead. We're following up on a lead about a makes.h.i.+ft dwelling about two miles from where the boys were-a couple of people mentioned that someone is living out there. Sounds like the same guy who freaked out a couple of college kids in town about a month ago.

"We're going to find the person that did this, Avery. I promise."

Thirteen.

Avery and Fletcher were sitting at a corner table in the coffee shop, books spread out in front of them, the remains of a plate of french fries between them. Fletcher didn't need to study, but when Avery suggested they hang out, he agreed, not wanting to spend any more time at home. His mother had gone from fawning over him to constantly watching him.

When she wasn't, she was on the phone-with his father, Fletcher guessed-murmuring, then falling silent whenever Fletcher walked in the room. Sometimes he heard her talking to Susan, his sister, and guilt pulsed through him. The conversations with Susan never lasted long because if he was there, his mother always hung up the phone.

The press conference and the release of Jimmy Jerold did little to bolster the town's morale. The community outrage and camaraderie that Adam's murder and Fletcher's escape had inspired were waning as suspicion and fear took hold.

Two old women walked by their table, engrossed in conversation, their eyes darting around as they took in the other patrons.

"I don't know what this town is coming to," Avery heard one old lady say. "Just yesterday I heard the Morgans' car was burgled. I've lived here twenty years and nothing like that ever happened before."

"That's because crimes against cars aren't burglaries," Avery huffed under her breath.

Fletcher looked up from his biology book. "What did you say?"

"Nothing." Avery waved at the air. "It's just that it's not burglary if it has to do with a car. Burglary is breaking into a dwelling; larceny is for a car."

Fletcher smiled. "You sure know a lot."

Avery felt her cheeks warm and her stomach flutter. "Sorry. It comes from being the daughter of a cop."

"Don't apologize. It's kind of cool. What else do you know about?"

"It's illegal to plow your field with an elephant in North Carolina, and the only two things you can legally throw out of your car here are water and chicken feathers."

Fletcher nodded, impressed. "Helpful tidbits for North Carolina farmers or Californian chicken carpools."

"I also know that crime isn't really going up around here. Everyone is just talking about it more since..." Her eyes flicked to Fletcher's, then returned to her notebook. "Well, you know."

Fletcher's fingers went to his forehead. He didn't have to wear the bandage anymore, but he still found himself absently touching the scar on his forehead.

"Yeah, well, I wish people would stop talking about it." He glanced around the cafe. "I wish people would stop talking about everything."

Avery reached out and touched his hand, her fingers gentle. She squeezed gingerly. "My dad is going to figure out who did this and stop him."

Fletcher pulled his hand away, not meaning for it to seem as jerky as it did. "It would be a whole lot easier if I could just remember what the h.e.l.l happened."

Avery tapped her fingers against the table. "It'll come back, you know."

"What will?"

"The memories."

"Yeah, maybe."

Avery held his gaze, biting her lower lip. She sighed, then edged a textbook out from the stack in front of her and flipped to a page tipped with a bright-pink Post-it note. "This is all about how the brain can shut out memories that the mind might not be ready to deal with. You know, traumatic stuff."

Fletcher glowered. "I'm not crazy."

Avery flushed again. "That's not what I'm saying. It's not about being crazy. It's about the brain wanting to protect itself. Fletch, what happened in the woods must have been horrifying."

"Yeah," Fletcher said, teeth clenched. "But I survived." Guilt infected every inch of him. He felt certain the universe would right itself. Adam was the golden child. Adam should have been the one to escape, not him. "Barely."

Fletcher looked away, not wanting to see the earnestness in Avery's clear blue eyes. She pushed the book toward him, completely undeterred.

"This says memories of trauma may come all at once or little by little, but the memories will come back."

Fletcher's mouth went dry although he had been sipping a c.o.ke. He didn't want the memories to come back-not little by little, or all at once. As much as he wanted Adam's killer caught, he didn't want to relive any more of what had happened that day. He didn't think he could take it.

"I..."-he licked his lips nervously-"I don't know if I want them to."

Avery's gaze hardened, then softened. She swallowed. "I guess I never thought about how it would affect you. The memories coming back, I mean."

"I want to help Adam."

"I know."

Fletcher looked at his lap, his eyes moist. "But I feel safer if I don't remember what happened."

The bells over the coffeehouse door jingled and a couple walked in, letting in a burst of cold fall air.

"That's just horrendous," the woman said.

"I can't believe someone would do that. Can you imagine how the Marshalls must feel seeing that, after all they've been through?"

Both Avery and Fletcher straightened.

"Excuse me," Avery said, standing. "What about the Marshalls?"

The woman gave Avery the once-over before her lips quirked into a small smile. "Are you the police chief's daughter?"

Avery nodded. "Yeah-"

The man said, "It's the memorial for Adam. It was a makes.h.i.+ft memorial but still, someone destroyed it. Horrible." He clucked his tongue. "Cowardly."

"What do you mean, destroyed it?" Fletcher asked.

The woman chimed in. "Just tore it apart. Broke votives that had been left with the flowers."