Instinct (18 page)

“We asked him
whether or not he met with Nicole and he says he didn’t. Said that she wanted
to meet him at the bridge where Miranda died, but he wasn’t comfortable with it
and refused her. He said he was home asleep the whole night. His mother and
father confirmed it. Says he’s sorry you were under the wrong impression. Said
Nicole has been pestering him for weeks, she was obsessed with him.” Radcliffe
breaks off, looking bewildered, no doubt wondering why he is being so candid
with me.

For once, I
don’t feel guilty. Every question from here on is for Nicole, to put her to
rest. I don’t care if it’s unethical anymore.

My initial reaction
is to forcefully deny what Phillip has said, to call him a liar, but something
stops me, a certainty that I will diminish my credibility if I point accusing
fingers just now. I shift gears, getting into what I really want to know.

“What killed
her? Was it the fall? Did she drown? Or was it something else?” I demand
quickly and quietly, knowing I have only moments before someone notices us
sitting here in the corner and disrupts my chance at the officer. I have no
doubt he’ll avoid me afterwards.

Still looking
puzzled, he answers haltingly. “The fall alone from the suspected bridge couldn’t
have killed her. The water was too deep from all the snowmelt, and the wound on
her head doesn’t look like it came from a rock. There was something embedded,
some kind of organic material.  But she did drown. She was still alive when she
hit the water.”

His words sink
in for a moment before I really understand them. My resolve flags, cracking
like glass under too much pressure, but I ruthlessly quell it, forcing the
weakness back to be agonized over later.

“Did she have
any other injuries?” I ask, noting with dismay that my mother is fast
approaching, a scowl on her face.

Radcliffe
frowns at me and rubs his beard. “You know I shouldn’t be telling you all this.
Yes. Her neck was broken and the wound on her head was extensive.”

“From before or
after the fall?” 

He shrugs,
glancing up as my mother comes to stand next to me, eyes dark with disapproval.
“No way of telling just yet. The cut bled before she died is all we know. And
the broken neck wouldn’t have taken much more to kill her without treatment…”
Radcliffe breaks off as my mother gasps. Disappointment is hard enough to chew
in my mouth as I watch him slowly come to his senses, realizing on some level
something very strange has just happened.

            “What are you
thinking, telling her things like that? She’s been through enough,” my mother
growls defensively, thwarting any further attempts on my part to obtain any
more information.

            Radcliffe stares at
me with hard, suspicious eyes. “Sorry ma’am. She…asked,” he says lamely, at a
loss to understand why he has just given me the kind of information the public
never hears about. Suddenly I need to get out of here, away from his sharpening
glare, away from the whispers and surreptitious glances from my classmates.

            “I need to go
home,” I tell Mom, the panic in my voice genuine. She glances around for a
moment as though looking for someone and then nods.

            “Okay Sweetie.
Let’s go.” Helping me stand, she shoots another stern look at the officer
before herding me through the crowd.

            “Tomorrow morning,
Miss MacKenna,” Radcliffe reminds me, his voice carrying through the din of
conversations around us with alarming precision. I face forward and give no
sign I heard him.

            By the time we get
outside, I am holding back tears again, thinking of Nicole being awake, aware
when she hit the water. Somehow, up till now I had cherished the idea she
didn’t know what was happening, that she didn’t feel the icy grasp of the
current pulling her under. I no longer have that luxury.

            “I’m very
interested in your daughter,” a male voice trumpets from our left and my mom
drops my hand like a stone, turning swiftly to meet the speaker.

            “Geoffrey. I
wondered if I’d see you here,” she answers, her own voice practically a simper.
Stunned, I look to see to whom she’s talking and get my first glimpse of Cole
and Jake’s father.

            Geoffrey Wise is
tall and broad-shouldered, a tailored black suit draped elegantly over his lean
frame. He is attractive, though not classically handsome like his son Jake and
without Cole’s chiseled features. He is like a slightly blurred photograph of
each of them superimposed over one another, as though all the clarity he lacked
was bestowed on his children. Salt-and-pepper hair is brushed back from his
face, and faint lines crease between his eyes, giving his expression a severity
at odds with the welcoming smile he has trained on my mother. A sense of power
hangs over him like a cloak, and I feel a pull toward him, a thin wire between
us that snaps tight with awareness. He smiles at my mother and turns his
compelling gaze on me.

            “So this is Derry.
I’m glad to finally meet you,” he says, voice settling over me like a warm
coat, reassuring and familiar. Crawling insect wings flutter beneath my skin
and I throw off the calming influence of his voice and view him with more
attention. He watches me with predatory interest, not sexual or lascivious, but
with the greedy air of one seeing an item of worth hidden at a flea market.

            He is like Cole,
like Jake. Like me.

            Talented.

            Instead of
answering him, I glance at Mom, waiting for the introduction. Without knowing
what he is capable of, I am reluctant to speak directly to him.

            “Honey, this is
Mayor Wise. Jake’s father,” she informs me. I nod as though this is new
information to me and give him a wary smile.

            “I’ve heard a lot
about you, Derry,” he says, smile broad and enigmatic. “I’m so very sorry for
what you’ve been through; your mother has told me what good friends you and
Nicole were. I hope you’ll let us know if there’s anything we can do.” He
gestures to his right as Jake emerges from the dark sedan at the curb, eyes
fixed on me.

            “That’s very kind
of you, Geoffrey. I’m sure we will,” Mom answers, when it is clear I am not
going to respond. Warning bells are going off in my brain, telling me I cannot
win any verbal exchange with this man. An instinctual, bone-deep dislike of the
mayor winds through me as I watch him put an arm around his son, their features
more clearly similar up close. The sun has gone down, but Jake’s hair is still
luminous, his skin clear and smooth, the streetlamps kind to his features. The
edges of his mouth turn up slightly, shyly.

            “My father wants us
to date,” he says, leaning forward slightly. With an effort, I manage not to
flinch.

            “Hi, Jake.”  I
realize I am holding myself tense, as though expecting a blow.

            “I missed you,”
another voice chimes in, low and sweet in its honesty. Cole climbs out of the
car and hurries toward me, arms outstretched. A loud rushing sounds in my ears
and then I am in his arms, tears falling heedlessly on his black wool pea coat.

            “Shh, shh, it’s
okay, it’ll be okay,” he whispers, stroking my head and holding me tight
against him. For the first time since Nicole’s phone call, I feel safe,
unassailable. I tune out the sounds of my mother and his father talking, the
chatter of people leaving the funeral home, the slosh of passing cars tossing
aside wet snow. All that remains is the soft, steady thrum of Cole’s heartbeat
under my cheek and the quiet hum of his voice in my ear.

            “Derry, I didn’t realize
you knew Cole so well,” his father says, tone disapproving. With one last
squeeze, Cole releases me and I find that I am steadier on my feet, less
afraid, as though he has drawn fear and grief from me like venom from a snake bite.
I brush the wetness from my face, wondering if I have permanent tear tracks
tattooed down my cheek by now.

            “Cole’s a good
friend,” I say firmly, realizing that any anger I still harbored about his
reaction to our kiss is irrelevant now. Justice for Nicole is more important,
and I could use his support.

            Cole’s eyes gleam
appreciatively at my endorsement and he hangs an arm over my shoulder. Mom looks
at us benevolently and I realize that she must like the idea of having both the
mayor’s sons interested in me, in whatever capacity.

            With a swiftness
that is immobilizing in its unexpectedness, Jake wrenches Cole’s arm away from
me and places himself between us, his eyes twin black holes of unexpressed fury.

            “Jake, don’t be
rude,” his father commands, and the power of his voice hits me like a baseball
bat. I am not the intended recipient, but I still feel as though I ought to
apologize for something.

            Jake breathes
heavily for a moment, jaw clenched tight enough to bleed his face white.     His
eyes cut to me and whatever he sees there seems to deflate him more effectively
than his father’s words.

“Sorry,” he
whispers, and I know he is. He turns around and marches crisply back to the car,
leaning with his hands on the roof, face turned away.

            “Well…ah, we’ve got
to be going,” my mother says, bewildered by the turn of events. Cole takes my
hand in his and squeezes reassuringly.

            “I’ll stop by tonight,
okay?” he asks uncertainly and I understand he is aware of my recent avoidance
of him. I manage a weak smile and nod. He squeezes my hand again and then walks
over to Jake and whispers something to him. After a moment, Jake and Cole join
the line to get into the funeral home and I breathe a sigh of relief,
ill-equipped to cope with any more drama from the brothers.

            “Salinda, I’m sorry
about that. I think Derry has had quite an effect on my boys,” Geoffrey says
smoothly, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that is incredibly disturbing.
Everything about this man screams “danger!” to me, and I have learned to trust
my instincts.

            “It’s been a long
day, Geoffrey. I’m going to take Derry home now,” Mom says wearily, patting me
absently on the shoulder. After another moment, Geoffrey shifts his attention
to my mother, turning up the wattage on the smile considerably. Mom blinks and
actually bats her eyelashes. With a sense of doom, I tug at her arm and she
finally starts moving.

            “Of course. May I
call later and see how you’re both doing?” he asks, his voice rubbing against
my mind like silk. I shudder and focus on the cold wind that slaps me in the
face, the damp heaviness that permeates the air just before a big snow giving
it weight.

            “Please. Goodnight,
Geoffrey,” Mom says and we cross the street to get to the overflow parking lot
where our rental car waits. Mom’s Torino was hauled up from the riverbank
sometime yesterday, but the alignment was off, so she got a loaner while the
mechanic fixes it. The fact that she still hasn’t punished me for stealing her
car and damaging it is some testament to how much she actually worried about
me. I find it oddly comforting.

            When we finally
reach home I go back to my room and flop down on my bed, exhausted to the point
of delirium and too rattled to be left alone with my own thoughts.

            Miranda’s journal
is still sitting on my desk, its binding somehow darker than I remember, and I
imagine it soaking up Nicole’s blood, locking her secrets inside, waiting for
me.

            Getting slowly out
of bed, my body protesting with every shift of muscle, I drag myself over to
the desk and sit down in front of the book, fingers resting lightly on the
surface. I have no choice now. I promised Nicole I would read it.

            I have to keep at
least one promise to her.

            Undoing the button
clasp on the front, I let the book fall open to the first page and begin
reading.

September
30

           
I
don’t understand Phillip. He was so sweet to me at first; he gave me presents
every time he took me out, he carried my books for me, introduced me to his
friends. He was nice to Nicole.          He seemed so perfect. I don’t know
what has happened to make him change.

            It’s
like I don’t exist for him when other people aren’t around, and then he
suddenly becomes that sweet, attentive boyfriend again. The minute we’re alone,
he drops it. It doesn’t make sense and it hurts, it makes me feel like I’ve
done something wrong.

October 2

           
He
told me he doesn’t want me seeing Nicole anymore; that she’s not welcome to sit
with us at lunch. I asked him why, and he said, ‘you belong to me now.’ Like
that answered my question. I don’t get him at all, it’s like he’s a different
person.

            I
didn’t listen to him, and I started to go sit with Nicole at lunch today.
Before I got to her table, Phillip came up behind me and twisted my arm around
my back so hard it brought tears to my eyes. I asked him what the hell he was
doing and he said ‘don’t disobey me. Don’t make me look like a fool,’ and then
dragged me off to his table. As soon as we sat down, he changed, acted all
sweet and concerned. He asked me what was wrong, and everyone was looking at
me, and I swear there was this…light in his eyes. I lied and said nothing was
wrong.  I don’t know why I did that.

October 4

           
I’m
going to break up with Phillip tomorrow. I think he’s trying to abuse me
somehow. It’s not physical. Apart from the day he dragged me away from Nicole,
he hasn’t touched me, except in front of other people. But the things he says
to me when we’re alone.