Chapter Twenty-Five
“Becca, get your skinny white butt over here.”
Rebecca wasn’t sure how many times Carmen had called her before she finally heard her. Probably a lot judging by the way she was glaring at her and tapping her foot impatiently. Even after she noticed Carmen, she wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t ready for her good mood to come to an end.
Rebecca had spent the better part of the day floating on her own personal cloud, barely aware of anything that was going on around her in the real world. More than once she had found herself smiling for no reason other than the fact that she caught a glimpse of Justyn in the hall. But the authoritative tone in Carmen’s voice immediately wiped the smile from her face and stopped Rebecca in her tracks as she was bending down to deposit her backpack in a corner. She sounded way too serious. It could only mean something bad had happened. Of course, in Carmen’s book, something bad could range from a pimple to a near-death experience.
The thought of death instantly sobered her. After all, it had been less than a week since Jay had died. She started to feel a little uneasy, and found herself coming down off the natural high that had kept her bouncing from class to class in a sort of half-dream. What right did she have to be so happy in the midst of so much sadness?
The grim faces of Carmen, Tom, and Debbie made her even more anxious. Tom was especially serious as she came closer, but he also had the grace to look a little sheepish. This was the first time he had dared to come within fifty feet of her since the fight. But the fact that he was full of apologies and looked so utterly pathetic made it hard to stay angry with him, especially considering the kind of week he was having.
“Becca,” Tom said slowly. He had trouble meeting her steady, expectant gaze. “You know yesterday was just an . . . an accident.” Rebecca raised an eyebrow, a habit she had picked up from Justyn. Tom worked on rewording his apology to make it a little more sincere. “I mean, I know it was wrong of me to sucker punch him the way I did. It wasn’t a fair fight. But I was—you know—I was really pissed and I did something stupid. But you have to believe me when I tell you that I never meant for him to fall. I would never do something like that . . . not even to Lord Justyn.”
Rebecca sighed. She knew that Tom wasn’t capable of being that violent, but it didn’t really change what had happened. Plus, she didn’t like his tone of voice when he spoke Justyn’s name; it dripped with such obvious loathing. Maybe he hadn’t planned the accident, but she wasn’t so sure anymore that Tom was actually sorry. Maybe he was sorry that there were witnesses, but she doubted he was sorry that it had happened.
“Don’t you think you should be apologizing to Justyn instead of to me?” Her own words held a sharp edge to them. “After all, he’s the one with broken bones.”
Tom twisted his face into a scowl that could have been a cocky smirk in disguise. So much for his apology—obviously, his words didn’t mean very much. Rebecca crossed her arms and huffed. She thought the conversation was over, and she was just about to leave and search out Justyn to see how he was feeling. She turned back in surprise when Debbie came to Tom’s assistance, backing up his lack of enthusiasm over a real apology.
“Under the circumstances, I think its best that Tom and Justyn avoid each other as much as possible.”
Rebecca couldn’t argue as much as she would have liked to. “I guess you’re right. We don’t need more fist fights.”
“It’s more than just that, Becca,” Carmen said. She didn’t bother to elaborate, but the deep lines of worry on her face said more than words. “Tom, you need to tell her what you found out.”
Tom appeared stricken. He swallowed hard. He didn’t look like he was going to say anything at all without some prompting but, finally, he managed to choke out a few strained words.
“It’s . . . it’s about Jay.”
Rebecca immediately felt her face soften. What right did she have to be so judgmental? She was far from a perfect human being. She had made more than her share of mistakes, including leading Tom on. If she hadn’t done that, there wouldn’t have been any reason for fighting to begin with.
“Something about the accident?” She put a hand on his shoulder in support.
“That’s just it. It wasn’t an accident,” Carmen blurted out.
Rebecca’s hand fell away from Tom’s arm, at the same time that her mouth popped open in shock. Carmen had never been very good at breaking bad news gently, and this news was just a little more than Rebecca had been ready to hear. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Once again, she felt that now familiar sense of panic. The terrifying sensation of suffocation almost overwhelmed her. It was so much worse than when the curtain had fallen down on her during that first practice, so much more intense.
She thought she had put all thoughts of murder out of her head, especially after the last nearly perfect night with Justyn. She had assured herself it was just her own irrational paranoia and that it was impossible that someone she knew could have the motive, let alone the heart, to kill. She had even dismissed that last phone call as a mean joke. Now all the fears and doubts she had tried to bury in the darkest recesses of her mind were slinking their way back to the surface. In fact, they were front and center, waving giant red flags in front of her eyes. Just three simple words, “not an accident”, and Rebecca was drowning in fear and indecision. She knew already who they were going to blame before they said another word.
“Someone cut the break lines in my truck.” Tom’s face was ten shades of pale as he spoke.
“Let’s not beat around the bush,” Carmen said, annoyed. “We all know who that someone had to be.”
Rebecca wanted to yell to keep from having to listen to the words she was dreading to hear. Carmen was untouched by either her or Tom’s plagued faces, and was about to continue when Debbie, bless her sweet, gentle soul, interrupted her.
“We can’t possibly know anything for sure. Wendy was pretty angry last week. Maybe that newspaper article pushed her over the edge.”
Carmen rolled her eyes. “Can you honestly see Wendy climbing underneath a truck? Besides, she doesn’t know her way around an engine.”
Rebecca was having a little trouble breathing. On some level, as much as she would have liked to have kept Wendy on the top of the suspect list, Rebecca knew how unrealistic it was that she would ever get her hands dirty, literally or figuratively. But it was more than the improbability of Wendy being a suspect that was causing her to feel dizzy and lightheaded. Carmen had reminded her of a conversation she’d had with Justyn on their date. She clearly heard Justyn’s voice in her head as they had made their way to Atlantic City.
“I know my way around an engine.” he had bragged matter-of-factly.
It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time. Most guys did know a little something about cars. But now those innocent words were suddenly as harsh as any threat. The flashing red lights in Rebecca’s eyes were blaring now, blinding her. Her throat was so constricted that even if she wanted to speak, to share her dark thoughts, it would have been impossible. But of course she didn’t want to share them. She didn’t want to admit to her friends that they might be right.
“But why would Justyn want to kill Jay? He had no reason to hurt him.”
Thank goodness for Debbie. She was the voice of reason. She was Rebecca’s own personal guardian angel, complete with fluffy wings and shining halo. Carmen, on the other hand, might as well have been carrying a pitchfork.
“Don’t be such a moron, Debbie.” she snorted. “It was Tom’s truck. Jay only borrowed it. Obviously, Jay wasn’t the intended target.”
“No . . . I was.”
Tom’s voice sounded controlled, but Rebecca could sense the hysteria lurking under the surface. He was desperately trying to keep it under control, but at any moment, he was going to snap and fall into a million pieces—pieces that would be impossible to put back together again. Rebecca understood what he was feeling. She knew what it was like to be completely eaten alive with guilt. She was right there with him, on the very brink of madness as that guilt threatened to swallow her whole—guilt over the fact that she might have played a role in Jay’s death.
The whole world was spinning. She really thought she was going to faint. She might have even welcomed blissful unconsciousness. It was better than letting in those dark thoughts, those horrible doubts. Doubts made her feel wretched with disloyalty, but they were impossible to ignore. It all made too much sense. The means, the motive, the opportunity—it was all there. But could Justyn really have wanted to eliminate his competition permanently? Was it total vanity for her to think she, of all people, was worth killing for? She knew Justyn had a dark side, but was he really capable of cold-blooded murder?
“There’s no doubt about it, Becca.” Carmen continued heartlessly. “Justyn is a psychotic freak. He probably killed Jay and Mr. Russ. You need to stay away from him or you’re going to be next.”
They were harsh words even though they were spoken with only sincere concern for her well-being. Rebecca knew she should agree with Carmen. But even if she was capable of moving her mouth to form a coherent sentence, she wasn’t sure that the words would come out right. And that was probably because the thought of ending her relationship with Justyn was almost as horrible as the possibility of him being a murderer.
Her friends didn’t understand her silence. They were giving each other strange, questioning glances. She was sure she could read their minds. Does Becca get off on masochism? Does Becca really think that Justyn might be innocent? Does Becca have a death wish? Is Becca completely insane? All of them were valid questions that she didn’t have answers to.
“There’s more,” Debbie said quietly. “Something we overheard Miss King say after you left on Friday.”
Of course there was more. She hadn’t fallen into a state of complete catatonia yet. There had to be more, just enough to finish the job. Then she could be on her way to get fitted for her straitjacket. She fought the urge to cover her ears with her hands.
“Someone sawed the railing on the platform,” Tom told her. “That’s the reason why Justyn fell.”
Rebecca let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. That wasn’t so bad. She had already figured that out by herself.
“Obviously, whoever did it had no idea that Tom was going to go ballistic,” Carmen added. “Which can only mean one thing . . . .”
Rebecca had never once thought about the reasoning behind the sawed railing. She hadn’t had time to think about it. She was too busy coddling Justyn over his injuries. Taking care of him was all that mattered at the time. She had never once thought about the danger the compromised prop had presented to her. Never considered for a second that she could have been the one to fall. And there would have only have been one person up there with her. Only one person who could have made the possibility become a harsh reality. Suddenly it seemed obvious. It was a bright neon danger sign flashing in her mind’s eye. Rebecca didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to hear the words spoken aloud, but she couldn’t resist. Morbid fascination was taking control again.
“What . . . what does it mean?”
“Whoever sawed that railing probably meant for you to fall, Becca,” Debbie said softly, verifying Rebecca’s own awful conclusions. “And it was probably Justyn that wanted you to fall.”