Reunion (A Psychological Suspense with Murder, Mystery and the Paranormal) (3 page)

Lana Jones strolled down the senior hallway, arms crossed, holding her books, brunette ponytail swinging. Her eyes glistened with excitement. She stepped out of the flow of teenage traffic and stopped at her locker—right next to Tanner. She cocked her head in Tanner’s direction and looked at him with a smile. He smiled back. She’s gorgeous, he thought. And she smells good too.

“Hello, Tanner.”

“Hi, Lana.”

He quickly turned back and attempted to look busy. He shoved his books into his locker in the order of his daily schedule, and then peered into a magnetized mirror stuck to the door and pulled a stray hair away from his eyes. He glanced back at Lana. She leaned against her locker, gazed at the adjacent wall and smiled.

Studying her joyful face, Tanner thought, she’s probably thinking about Noah and how awesome he is. Tanner rolled his eyes. Pfft. I mean, I’m no James Bond exchange student like Noah, but I’m not so bad. He wished she would look like that when thinking about him.

Tanner loaded his books into his arms and almost left when Noah showed up. Noah’s locker was at the end of the hallway, but he always managed to visit Lana before first period. Tanner looked into his locker mirror and watched the two lovebirds embrace.

Noah towered over Lana. He stood six feet two and she was a petite five feet three. Tanner marveled at how composed Noah appeared at all times. He had a charismatic, yet distinguished, personality that enticed Tanner to listen to him when he spoke. Lana stretched up on her tiptoes and grabbed his neck. Noah squeezed her and whispered in her ear.

“Hiya, little bird, you ready for class?”

“Yes,” Lana said, wearing the same smile that she’d had on her face before he arrived.

Lana visibly turned to mush every time she heard Noah’s British accent. Tanner had secretly watched them every day, all year long. One day she had told Tanner how privileged she felt to be with such a catch, and that she feared that, like Cinderella, the clock would strike midnight and he’d return to England without her. Tanner thought he’d never do that to Lana—but he kept that to himself. After all, she was the captain of the cheerleading squad, perpetually optimistic, outgoing and drop-dead gorgeous. Tanner looked at her with adoration. Noah had fallen in love with her the minute he laid eyes on her. At least that’s what he told her while Tanner was gathering his things for history class one day.

Tanner looked at the hallway clock—8:06 a.m. I’m gonna be late, he thought, but he couldn’t stop looking in the mirror, which functioned like a television airing an early morning soap opera. Lana’s deep-blue eyes gazed at Noah with a tender innocence. Tanner never saw her face light up like that until
he
came along. It seemed she had only known awkward attempts at love by unskilled boys who had no idea how to care for someone of her caliber. Noah was different.

Tanner didn’t despise Noah. He sort of liked him and felt happy for Lana. Besides, he appreciated the love lessons—love lessons that played out like a fairy tale. That’s what it looked like to him anyway.

He’d learned a valuable lesson about love the day Lana had dropped her journal as she headed to class. She’d slammed her locker door closed and jetted down the hall. Tanner noticed right away that something had fallen out of her locker. When he reached down to pick it up, he couldn’t help but read a short blurb as he lifted it off the floor.

I had a great day at school today. Noah left a poem in my literature book and a Hershey’s Kiss on my lunch tray. HE IS SO AWESOME! It’s probably way too early to say this, but I think that one day we’re going to get married. I know it seems impossible because he’s from England but…

Tanner called her name and returned the journal to her. The lesson; leave poems and Hershey’s Kisses.

At 8:08 a.m. Tanner was still peering into the mirror, discreetly moving his body as if he were actually doing something important. Noah brushed his fingers through Lana’s smooth brown ponytail. His robust frame pressed ever so gently against hers, making full-body contact.

“I’m gonna miss you,” said Lana.

Her typically strong voice grew weak in his presence. Her blueberry eyes sparkled as she looked up at the boy she hoped to wed.

“I’m going to miss you too, little bird. But somehow I think we’re going to get through the next hour.” They both laughed. “And by the way, I dreamt about you last night.”

Lana smiled, eyelashes fluttering.

Noah whispered, “Do you want to know what it was about?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Lana bit her lower lip.

Her eyes studied him with passion. He put his hand behind her neck, brushed his lips against her ear and murmured the details of his dream. Lana smiled and giggled. She closed her eyes and curled up inside his arms before they separated for their respective classes. Lana’s smile was rarely absent in Noah’s presence and usually stayed on long after they detached from each other.

Tanner looked at the clock: 8:09 a.m. I have to go. He closed the locker door and headed to class. He suddenly felt cold. He looked out at the remaining students in the hallway, weighted by a heaviness that came to rest upon his shoulders, and then ran as fast as he could to Mr. Gardner’s senior English class. The dark feeling had returned.

• • •

At 8:43 a.m. David got up from his bed after filling his mind with rage from his music. He slipped out of the house and loaded his duffle bag into the back of his rusty ‘76 Chevette. The old clunker embarrassed him. Most high school boys in Crescent Falls drove trucks or sports cars. However, David came from a family of little means. He lived in the local trailer park, where inoperative vehicles and broken dreams were commonplace. That’s what he told himself every time he witnessed another car raised up on concrete blocks. David had managed to save a little money for his first car by working a few odd jobs, but his lack of motivation kept him perpetually moving from part-time job to part-time job. Over time he became less concerned with his wheels. Revenge became the crux of his existence; his focus, delivering a militant and sulfur-laced message at exactly 9:35 a.m.

David packed his gear in the trunk, and slammed the warped hatchback closed. It barely held. Figures, he thought to himself, pathetic car—pathetic life. He exhaled a frosty cloud into the air and peered into the blue sky. He took pleasure in his progress and smiled for the first time that day. Yet a deviant smirk expressed all the joy he could muster.

With tired eyes from a brutal night of tossing and turning, David flicked his shoulder-length hair out of his face and stepped into the subcompact vehicle. When he sat down, he reached into the inside pocket of his black jacket and pulled out two sheets of neatly folded paper. The first: his checklist. The second: his personal manifesto.

The checklist kept him on schedule and the manifesto kept him motivated. He read it daily. It fed his desire to kill, reminding him to loath nearly everyone around him. Of course, not everyone caused his pain, but the manifesto made him believe that they did. He wrote it after Nick Tooley had pulled the stunt with his hat. One of many humiliating and painful moments, it became a turning point for David. He drove home from school that day and ran into his bedroom. He shut out the world, cranked up his music and cried for hours. It was the first time he’d cried in months. A hard shell had already begun to form around David’s heart, but not so much that Nick’s abuse couldn’t crack it. David already hated himself. Filled with shame and self-loathing from his home life, he didn’t need any help from his schoolmates to make his life miserable. That day in the hallway created enough scar tissue that his heart never felt pain again. It opened a portal for evil to root into his soul.

He opened the checklist to review his plan and affirm that he had not forgotten anything. The checklist consisted of the following: set alarm clock for 7:00 a.m., shower and get dressed, finish loading gun clips, organize guns, load guns and ammo into car, smoke a little weed, kill Bill, drive to school, and finally—fix my world.

After lighting up a joint, David sat in his little car and inhaled the mind-altering fumes. He wanted to relax, because he thought it would make the killing easier and give the demons free rein over his actions. He sucked the smoke long and smooth.

“In with the reefer…out with giving a shit.” David laughed at his verbal creativity.

His counselor had told him once that he had a misguided case of cognitive dissonance. Whatever that means, he thought. David figured what would appear psychotic and deranged would become his infamous fifteen minutes of fame. In one of his counseling sessions, he confessed that he had dreamed about killing some of his classmates, and that he heard voices demanding vengeance for their bullying. The counselor assured him that he could make healthier choices and that the voices were not real. However, after repeated abuse, exploitation, and a long list of crimes against his humanity, David had given in to the voices in his head. He felt that he no longer had a choice, but rather, a calling.

When David continued to bring up the idea that he was hearing things, the counselor had him tested for schizophrenia. Although the test results were still pending as David sat in his car smoking weed, the look in his eyes and the heinous smirk on his face was not one of paranoia. On that morning, his smile exemplified sheer evil. Lost as he was, something unearthly arose in his spirit, and even David knew it had little to do with peer pressure. His expressions that morning did not feel normal; they were paranormal.

• • •

At 8:55 a.m. Bryan Jacobs sat in his first-hour English class. He glanced at the clock and then looked at Kate Schmidt. She peeked out of the black hair hanging over her eyes and smiled at Bryan. He grinned and turned back toward the balding Mr. Gardner, who was sitting on his cluttered desk, littered with papers, books and other school supplies. He stood up, loosened his tie, rolled up his white sleeves and began to write a few notes on the chalkboard.

“Okay everyone—just a quick reminder about the year-end award ceremony at nine thirty this morning. Be sure to go to your second-period class, and then you’ll walk to the cafeteria together with your teacher. Okay? Great! And finally, I’d like all of you to read the final chapter from
The Grapes of Wrath
tonight, and we’ll discuss Mr. Steinbeck’s use of imagery tomorrow. Any questions?”

Kate Schmidt raised her hand and pulled her hair away from her eyes, revealing the black eyeliner that encircled her rebellious punk-rock eyes.

“Yes, Kate. Go ahead.”

Bryan heard a hint of exasperation in Mr. Gardner’s voice.

Kate looked away from Mr. Gardner and her jaw made large dramatic chewing movements because she had a wad of gum in her mouth. “So, is it true that you could sandblast your silverware by putting them in front of a key hole during the black blizzard?” She turned her head and grinned while the other seniors marveled at her audacity.

Mr. Gardner curled his lips, expressing his disappointment at Kate’s lack of seriousness.

Alexis Fairchild and Sydney Frey rolled their eyes. They were on the cheerleading squad. Bryan watched their reactions, but knew Kate didn’t care what they thought about her. They openly resented Kate for being with Nick. On a separate occasion, Bryan heard one of them say that Kate didn’t fit the jock-girlfriend image.

Bryan put his head down and smirked.

He liked Kate, but he didn’t want to get in trouble. He had too much going for him. Yet there was something about her that drew him in. His attraction centered on her inner beauty and her wit, although many considered her somewhat of an oddity, because of her black clothing, independence and punk-rock attitude. Bryan knew she could verbally take anyone down, including himself, at any moment. He liked her strength, sense of humor and deep-seated confidence, even though his lack of action demonstrated how intimidated he felt around her.

Regardless of his feelings, Bryan had a dilemma; Nick Tooley already claimed Kate as his own. Ironically, Nick had a roving eye and flirted with other girls when Kate wasn’t around. As a result, Bryan patiently waited for the right moment to win her heart. Kate seemed to be waiting too, but didn’t hold Bryan’s hand in the process. Bryan assumed that he had all the time in the world.

• • •

David checked his watch—9:05 a.m. Time to go, he thought to himself. He blew the remaining smoke out of the side of his mouth and swallowed the remaining portion, the roach, as customary. When the air cleared, he marched into the house, knowing that his mother and stepfather would still be asleep. They made a habit out of staying out late at the local bars. David’s mother, Sheila, had a lot of mental anguish to drown out. Her first husband was depraved and abusive. Unfortunately, her second proved to be much the same.

Once David arrived at the humble door to the
master’s
bedroom, he smelled a strong, masculine odor and remembered why he hated them both. He stood there staring at a large hole that Bill, his stepfather, had punched through late one night when he and his mother were fighting. Covered with duct tape to maintain privacy, it certainly didn’t hide the memories. They were crystal clear in David’s mind.

At that moment, his thoughts flashed back several months to another night when the couple had returned home drunk from barhopping. Bill staggered to the door and yelled to Sheila, while he waited for her to come in.

“Come on, Sheila! Get in the house!”

Sheila leaned against Bill’s truck with her head down and responded, “I’ll come in when I’m good ‘n ready!”

“What the fu—? Oooh-ooh-ooh! I’m gonna beat the shit out of you…and your big ass too!”

Bill angrily stepped off the threshold and hurried toward Sheila. She pawed at his truck to keep from falling over. David watched through his bedroom window. Although he anticipated what might happen, he felt powerless to stop any of it. He had tried on several other occasions, but Bill just beat the life out of him as well.

Sheila never saw Bill coming toward her. David opened his window to warn her, but Bill turned and bitterly pointed his finger at David, exhorting him with a silent glare. As previously trained, David shut the window. He said nothing.