“So . . . I’m right.” Makani pressed her clenched fists against her forehead. Suddenly, everyone was taking her theory a lot more seriously.
Darby tugged on his suspenders. Their elasticity wouldn’t last long under this much stress. “I don’t know if you’re right, exactly, but there is a strong pattern. And there could be something unknown about Haley.”
“So, who else would David have on his list?” Ollie asked.
“But that’s the thing,” Makani said. “We don’t know. Whatever they did, it’s probably a secret.”
“Unless . . .” He sagged with fatigue. “I mean, Zachary Loup. Right?”
The waiting room fell into a hush. This was the closest Makani had heard to Ollie admitting that he’d known the rumors about him and Zachary. He sighed. “Look, I know one of us was supposed to be the killer. And maybe I am a loner, but he’s definitely an asshole. It’s reasonable to assume that he’d be a target.”
“Oh my God,” Alex said. She didn’t need to think about it.
“We have to warn him,” Darby said. Instant agreement. “We can’t take the chance.”
Ollie called his brother. Chris sounded doubtful, but he promised to check in with Zachary. A minute later, a text arrived. It was the owner of Greeley’s Foods: Your shift has been canceled. Store closing early so employees can attend the memorial.
“Shit!” Alex sprang from the love seat. “I’m supposed to be in the band room in five minutes.”
Makani’s fear reignited at the thought of anyone leaving her sight line. “What? Why? You can’t go on campus!”
Alex tried to allay Makani’s concern with a reassuring smile. It didn’t work. “We’re playing the memorial. They’re just letting us in to pick up our uniforms.”
“Don’t worry,” Darby said as he hustled Alex away, car keys already in hand. “I’ll drop her off, and then we’ll both be safe in the crowd.”
When Makani and Ollie returned to Grandma Young’s room, her bed was gone. The nurses informed them that she’d been wheeled away for a test. They sat on the floor and picked at the cold food that Ollie had brought earlier from the cafeteria. Now that they were alone, Makani wanted to talk more about her past—she wanted to be comforted—but Ollie was deep in contemplation about something else. The moment didn’t seem right.
The vibration was faint, but they sat up like a shotgun blast.
“It’s Chris,” Ollie said, checking his phone.
Makani stood and walked to the mirror above the sink to give him the privacy of a few feet. Futzing with her shirt, she peeked at Ollie’s reflection. His pale brows were pinched, which matched the frustrated tone of his conversation. The call was short.
“The police can’t do much,” he said. “They don’t want to freak anyone out. But Chris did check in with Zachary, and he’s safe. He’s at home with his mom’s boyfriend.”
“So . . . that’s it?”
Ollie’s jawline was rigid. “Yep.”
“I thought they might send a patrol car to watch over him or something.”
“Maybe if they were a bigger department. Or if we had any shred of proof. But they’re stretched thin, and now they have to work the memorial. Chris is already there.”
Makani slumped. “I’ll let Darby and Alex know.”
Darby’s response was immediate: But we just saw him!
Her breath caught. z’s at the memorial?
Yeah we saw him walking toward main street. There are a TON of people here. I just dropped off Alex so I’ll find him to make sure he understands how serious this is!
don’t!!! what if david is stalking him?? we’ll help you!! we’ll be right there!
Ollie read the texts over her shoulder. “What about your grandma?”
Makani stopped, halfway to the door. She’d vowed to be more honest with her grandmother. What possible excuse could she give for leaving the hospital right now?
“We’ll leave a message with the nurses,” he said, decoding her troubled expression. “We’ll say that we wanted to pay our respects, that we’ll meet up with my brother, and that we’ll be back as soon as it’s over. None of that is a lie.”
It wasn’t a lie. But it didn’t feel good.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Zachary Loup was stoned. He’d only come to the memorial because it was better than being at home, better than being alone with his mother’s lecherous boyfriend. Zachary saw the hatred burning in Terry’s eyes whenever Amber wasn’t looking. What kind of man was jealous over his girlfriend’s son? What kind of man felt threatened by that relationship? Zachary prayed that Amber had the sense not to marry Terry. Zachary’s first stepfather had been bad enough. He was beating the shit out of some other family now.
Black satin ribbons were tied around every telephone pole on Main Street, and they fluttered in the crisp bite of the wind. The marching band was warming up in the grocery store parking lot. Brass instruments hummed and bass drums boomed. Cops were patrolling the two-lane street, which had been blocked off from traffic. The quaint thoroughfare was packed with county locals, vibrating with fury and injustice, as well as every news-media outlet that had raced to Nebraska to chronicle it.
The memorial was supposed to be a dignified remembrance of the victims, but even Zachary could see that wasn’t exactly what was happening. From the makeshift stage, a flatbed truck parked in front of the old bank, Principal Stanton shouted declarations to the masses: “This spring, the school fountain will be turned into a monument for the victims!”
Cheers.
“This weekend, our drama department will hold a fund-raiser for the victims’ families!”
Cheers.
“And tomorrow night, our football team will take to the field in the playoffs!”
Losing-their-goddamn-minds cheers.
The principal was a balding man with a sturdy frame who wore his masculinity as if it were a badge of honor. Zachary detested him. Stanton was a son of a dick who punished Zachary for every fight, even the ones started by other students. Today, the principal sounded more defiant than respectful, and the spectators sounded more aggressive than supportive. The whole town was seething with outrage as their fear reached its boiling point.
Which came first, the outrage or the fear?
Ms. Clearwater, his favorite counselor, liked to give him Zen koans to keep his mind engaged. But koans were paradoxical riddles, which meant this wasn’t actually a good example. Zachary knew from experience that fear always came first.
He drifted through the agitated flock. Every conversation was about David. A middle-aged woman spoke loudly to whoever was listening. “Did you see that picture where he was posing with that buck carcass?”
“Creepy smile,” a guy with meth-mouth said. “Gave me the willies.”
“His family goes to my church,” a conspiratorial male voice said. “The dad always seemed real shady. The mom’s a prude, too. Never looks happy.”