The Innocent: Chapter 7 (Patreon)

Index

Chapter 7

Kyla

My right fist shot out, landing a solid punch on the bag Camille was holding, and my left immediately followed. She and Luna had been helping me with sparring, teaching me what little they knew about fighting and letting me develop my pinning technique on runs, but I wasn’t satisfied yet. If I wanted to really protect myself, or anyone else, then I had to practice. I had to get faster, stronger, and more accurate. I had to get better. So I convinced them to go to the gym with me every chance we got, even when it was the school gym at six-thirty on a Friday night. Even when one of them didn’t want to come – like Luna, who got here only a couple of minutes ago and was sitting by the edge of the mat eating a burrito.

“Why are you practicing so much anyway?” Luna asked through a mouthful of food. “It’s been months now, you’re solid.”

“Ain’t solid enough,” I panted, landing more rapid hits.

“You can pin me,” Luna said. “No one can pin me.”

“And when I’m human?” I asked. I stopped throwing punches, breathing heavily and noting the sheen of sweat on Camille’s forehead just from holding the bag. “I can’t be vulnerable.”

She gestured her burrito at me. “That’s what Phasing is for.”

I didn’t say anything because she didn’t understand the kind of threats I was learning to fight, and I didn’t want to tell her. It was time for a break anyway, and I threw one last lazy punch. Camille ducked out from behind the bag, hugging me around the waist and walking me to where Luna was sitting. She plopped down across from her sister, and I sat next to her to lean into her side.

“Want some?” Luna asked, holding out her burrito.

Camille shook her head, but I stretched forward for a bite while she asked, “Where did you even get that?”

“Vending machine.” Luna stuffed some more into her mouth.

“Gross.”

“Know what?” I said, swallowing the bite I took. “It ain’t bad.”

“Really?” Camille asked. She glanced at the burrito in Luna’s hand when I nodded, and then leaned forward to try it for herself. She chewed, swallowed, and laughed, “Okay, it’s better than it looks.”

“Hey,” called a familiar voice from the entrance of the gym. Abby wandered over, eyeing Luna’s food with a repulsed look on her face while she sat down perpendicular to Luna and me. “We just had dinner a little over an hour ago.”

“Yeah?” Luna prompted.

Abby eyed the burrito again. “And you’re hungry enough to eat that?”

Luna shrugged. “Three out of three werewolves agree it’s suitable.” 

Abby looked at Camille and me, and we both gave resigned nods. “Right, okay… What are you guys doing in here?”

“I was practicing,” I told her, motioning toward the punching bag, and now that she was here, I kicked my legs out over hers and reclined further into Camille’s side. She leaned back on one hand, her other setting on my ankle so she could absentmindedly finger the laces on my shoe.

“Hey,” Luna said, eyes suddenly wide as she asked Abby, “you work for the Council, can you fight?”

“I’ve had some training,” she answered, but whatever Luna was thinking, she heard it. “Oh no, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What?” Camille asked.

“She should spar with Kyla,” Luna said. “Why’s that not a good idea? I want to see what the Council teaches you.”

I wasn’t so sure about it either, but when I glanced at Camille, she shrugged and said, “I’m kind of curious too.”

“Yeah, why not?” Luna prompted again.

Abby’s mouth fell open, but she couldn’t find the words to explain why she was resistant. So I said, “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“What?” Abby asked with a laugh. “You did not just say that. As if you even could without going full wolf-mode.”

I lifted my eyebrows at her. “I’m at least five times stronger than you.”

“And your massive head will weigh you down,” she teased. “You know what?” She pushed my legs off her lap and stood, taking her cellphone from her pocket and dropping it to the floor. “We’re doing this.”

She held out her hand and offered to help me up, and if she was determined to do it, then I guess there wasn’t a reason not to. I let her pull me to my feet, and then followed her to the portion of the mat that wasn’t filled by the bag.

“Wait, hold on,” I protested as she took a stance in front of me. “You got an advantage seeing as you can read my mind.”

“What happened to being five times stronger than me?” she asked with a smile. “Just try not to think too much.”

“Best two out of three!” Luna called from the edge of the mat.

I lifted my hands to head height, and Abby raised hers to her shoulders, but even though she’d told me not to think too much, I was. I was way overthinking, wondering how I could strike without hitting her or take her down without using too much strength. She watched me for a while, waiting for me to do something, but I was too worried.

“No?” she asked expectantly. “Okay.”

And she was done waiting. She bent at the knees and hips to drop below my left elbow, and leaned in so her shoulder hit me in the stomach. It shifted all my weight to my back foot, and her right arm wrapped behind my front leg while her other went around my torso, and then she lifted my front leg and swung me around that side. It happened faster than I could react, and my back hit the mat.

While Luna clapped and Camille let out a huff of amusement, Abby let go of my leg and leaned over my head. “You ready to actually try now?”

I held out my hand, and she took it and hauled me up. “Two out of three,” I reminded.

We both put our hands up again, standing face to face. I tested it out by swatting at her with an open palm. She ducked around it and came in with a rounded strike of her own, which I blocked with my forearm. There was no pause before she threw two more punches. A left and then a right. I swatted the first one away with a wave of my arm, but just as she took the second, I moved in. I got close enough to wrap an arm around her neck, tucked one of my legs behind her to trip her and whipped her sideways, throwing her down.

“Go, Kyla!” Luna yelled.

Abby was laughing from her back, and as I lifted her off the ground, she teased, “Your girlfriend hits harder than you.”

“Yeah,” Camille laughed from the sidelines, “when I’m running forty miles an hour.”

“Did you let me win that one?” I asked suspiciously, putting my hands up again to prepare for the final round.

“No,” Abby answered, raising her hands too. “I wasn’t expecting you to come forward like that.” She grinned. “It was aggressive, I’m impressed.”

“Go in for the kill!” Luna shouted.

“Who are you cheering for?” Camille asked.

“Whichever one of them is going to kick ass.”

Now that we’d gone two rounds, I decided to stop being so worried about it. I didn’t hesitate to throw two immediate punches, but after blocking the first one, Abby did something I never would’ve expected. She blocked my second hit and pushed my arm outward, grabbing it in one hand while the other set on my shoulder, and she used that grip to jump. Her feet left the ground and wrapped over and under my other shoulder, and I was already slightly off balance from throwing a hit, so having her extra weight so suddenly at the front of me sent me toppling forward. Her back hit the mat first as I fell upside down, but she used the momentum and the strength of her legs to somersault me over the top of her, and when my back hit the mat, she rolled over onto me for the pin.

“Ha!” Luna yelled. “Some training! You have some?” And she turned to Camille. “Oh my god, did you see that? She was like a squirrel!”

Abby laughed, jumping up and grabbing my arm to lift me to my feet. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” I answered, and glanced over at where Camille and Luna were occupied talking about that takedown. “You really do have training.”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile, but it faded when she caught the thought going through my mind. “Kyla,” she murmured apologetically.

“You know why I practice,” I said, unable to mask my disappointment. She knew why it was important to me, she’d heard all about it. She’d heard details even Camille didn’t know. “Why haven’t you wanted to help me?”

“It crossed my mind,” she said. Her gaze fell while she shrugged, and then she tossed a look to where Luna was reenacting the move as best she could for Camille. “Honestly, I’m still working out what kind of boundaries I need with you,” her voice was low enough that only I could hear, “or don’t need, I guess. I want to help, but… that’s a lot of full contact on a regular basis...”

“Oh,” I breathed.

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” I shook my head and reached out to set a comforting hand on her forearm. She made our friendship feel so easy, and she never put pressure on me even when I slipped, and she was getting along so well with Camille that it never crossed my mind that things might still be hard for her. But it wasn’t her fault, and I didn’t want her feeling bad for it. “No, it’s fine. I understand.”

She smiled, squinted at me, tilted her head side to side as if considering something, and then nodded. “Yep, your head’s looking about the right size now.” I laughed while she strode off to rejoin Camille and Luna.

“That was awesome,” Luna said, extending her hand to Abby for a high five.

I went over too and dropped down beside Camille, and Abby looked across at me and asked, “By the way, are you wearing cologne?”

Camille snorted with laughter as I groaned and asked, “Do I smell like that guy from fourth period again?” Camille nodded, trying and failing to keep the amusement off her face. “I ain’t even wearing the same clothes! I swear it’s burned into my skin. I’m filing a formal complaint.”

“It smells good,” Abby chuckled, “if that’s any consolation.”

“Hardly,” I mumbled. “Anyway, you find anything?”

It was three days ago that Camille had trailed Constance to that junkyard, and no one had seen her or the groundskeeper, Alvin, since. She just vanished. Wasn’t going to class, wasn’t working the dinner line in the cafeteria, wasn’t going to her dorm room. It had to be because she knew we’d try stopping her, especially since she threatened Camille. Every minute of the day, one of us was with Camille – Abby, and sometimes Luna, from the end of fourth period to when I got out of class at the end of the day, and then we were with her the rest of the time.

It was possible that Constance didn’t mean it. That she wasn’t really planning on killing Camille and was only trying to scare her. Either way, we didn’t know why she was targeting people or what she was getting out of it, so we were taking it seriously.

“Nothing,” Abby answered. “Constance hasn’t used any credit or debit cards anywhere, hasn’t used her school ID to get into the dorms, she’s just gone. Her parents called in too, the whole police force is looking for her.”

“And the groundskeeper?” I asked.

“No trace of him either,” she said.

“Did you finish translating that book?” Camille asked. “From Patrick’s dorm.”

“Yeah.” Abby let out a discouraged breath. “It’s all in the Council’s database now, but it wasn’t helpful. It’s mostly recipes for spells without any descriptions of what things actually mean. Besides, if Constance is going after Alvin, I’m not sure how much this really has to do with Patrick Prevost anyway. I can’t see any connection between Alvin and what happened with Travis Prevost.” Before any of us could reply, Abby’s phone started ringing. She put it to her ear. “Hello?” She listened for a minute and then put her hand to her forehead. “Symbols? Same as Devon Nealy?” Another pause, and then she asked in shock, “A bullet and a locket?” A few seconds more. “Okay, thanks.” She hung up, looking around at all of us before saying, “That was Damien, from the morgue. They found Alvin.” I let out a heavy sigh, too upset that someone else died because we couldn’t find Constance to say anything.

“Where?” Camille asked.

“In the woods.”

Luna’s eyebrows furrowed. “Same place we found Devon?”

Abby shook her head. “On some hunting trail toward the east side. Had that phrase again, alisded bi dreares geut.” Redeemed by shed blood. “That bullet Constance took from the junkyard was in one of his hands, and a locket with a picture of a little girl in his other.”

“Okay,” Luna said, “so Constance got him because he did something bad. What’d he do?”

“He killed someone,” Camille said.

“Are you sure, though?” Luna asked. “There’s a lot of bad things someone can do without-”

“He killed someone,” Camille repeated, pulling her knees up to wrap her arms around them. “He had to have.” Her head fell. “That’s why she killed Devon. It’s why she threatened me.”

“That’s her modus operandi,” Luna whispered with realization. “She’s killing murderers.”

“But Camille’s not a murderer,” Abby protested.

Luna winced. “Technically…”

“Luna,” I scolded, setting my hand on Camille’s back, offering comfort because I knew how much she regretted attacking that farmer. It haunted her, even years later, and the waves of guilt from her in the connection were bad enough to turn my stomach.

“Sorry,” Luna said softly. “I’m just saying, Constance probably doesn’t care if it was an accident.”

“It’s fine,” Camille murmured. She propped an elbow on her knee to cradle her head in her hand. “She’s right.”

“Alright then,” I said, more determined than ever to solve this, “what do we know?”

“Devon killed Travis Prevost,” Abby said, “Constance killed him and-” Her eyes went wide. “She dumped his body at the lake. Where he let Travis drown.”

“You think…” Luna said.

Abby nodded. “Look,” and she held out her hands to list things on her fingers. “She had to have taken the locket from Alvin’s home, and the bullet from the junkyard. There’s got to be a connection to the bracelet and the alcohol found with Devon. Two items each.” She gestured with the two fingers on each hand. “She cut those symbols into his and Devon’s skin.” Both hands flashed three fingers. “She’s been meticulous. There’s a process. I’ll bet where they found Alvin’s body is where he did whatever it is he did. Just like we found Devon’s body where he killed Travis.”

“But why?” Camille asked.

“What’s it matter why?” Luna replied. “She’s a murderer too.”

“It matters,” I interjected, “because we can’t find a connection to Patrick. This started with his suicide.”

“Theories that involve Patrick,” Abby said, clearing her fingers to begin counting again. “One?”

“His ghost possessed Constance,” Luna suggested.

Abby deadpanned, repeating, “One?”

“Fine,” Luna mumbled, “but you’re all going to feel real stupid when you find out she’s possessed.”

“She’s some kind of supernatural,” Camille volunteered, “Patrick knew about it and convinced her to get revenge for him.”

“And she’s making it a fulltime job?” Luna asked.

“It’s better than ghosts,” Camille glared.

“What kind of supernatural might she be?” I asked. “Forget the revenge motive. What’s physically possible?”

“Um, based on strength and speed,” Abby glanced upward in thought, “Reaper, Wendigo, Rakshasi, Angel, Djinn, Harpy, I mean the list could go on and on, I don’t know if that’s a good place to start…”

“Okay, Patrick recruited her, and then killed himself because?” Camille looked around at all of us for ideas.

“Maybe he was going to do it anyway,” Luna said. “So he did a ritual to make sure Constance would be successful. Or powerful.”

“That’s a good theory,” Abby agreed. “He recruited Constance and then performed a ritual. What’s another one?”

“Constance killed him too,” I said. “Maybe he wasn’t a murderer though. Different sin, different death.”

Abby nodded and held up two fingers. “Any others?”

“Constance and Patrick were friends,” Luna said. “She’s got a taste for blood and now she won’t stop.”

“Okay, good.” Abby dropped her fingers. “So what don’t we know? Besides what Patrick had to do with this.”

“What the items found with Devon and Alvin were for,” Luna said.

Camille said, “Where Constance is doing the killing.”

“How to stop her,” I added.

“And,” Abby said, “I want to know what Alvin did to get him on Constance’s murder list. Devon killing Travis was deliberate. Maybe Alvin’s was on purpose, too, and she was just trying to scare Camille…”

“Who would know about it?” Luna asked. “If people knew he killed someone, he probably would’ve been in prison.”

We all looked around at each other while considering it. “The junkyard guy!” Camille said. “He had the gun Constance was looking for, he was friends with Alvin, maybe he knows.”

“We should go ask him,” Luna suggested. “Right now. I’m totally going to play bad cop.”

“Shoot, what time is it?” Abby grabbed her cellphone to check. “I got to go.”

“You don’t want to come?” Luna asked. “Camille said he’s like six foot five, it’ll be fun to scare some answers out of him.”

Abby stood, saying as she did, “I want to, but I can’t. I have a date.”

“A what?” I blurted.

She blinked at me, repeating, “…A date.”

“You can’t go on a date.”

“It’s Friday night,” she said, stuffing her phone into her pocket. “Why can’t I go on a date?” My mouth hung open, waiting for a response to come out of it. At first, none did. I didn’t know what to say, or why I didn’t want her going. I just… didn’t. “Okay, see you later.”

She turned to start for the door, and I bolted up to follow after her. “There’s a killer on the loose,” I protested. “And you want to go out with someone you don’t know?”

Abby stopped walking, let out a heavy sigh, and turned to face me as I reached her. “No one’s seen her for days, she’s not after me, and it’s not a blind date. Besides, we’re going to the Orchid, not a likely place for me to get kidnapped.”

The Orchid? Dancing? “How about us?” I gestured hastily behind me. “We’re going to the junkyard and it might be dangerous.”

“There’s three of you,” she said with unmistakable impatience. “You’ll be fine.” My mouth fell open with another excuse, but she didn’t give me time to say it. “Kyla,” she muttered under her breath, “boundaries. Please. You’re not helping.”

OH. I blinked away the resistance I felt as my face flushed with realization. Oh...

“I’ll text you when I get home safe,” she said. “Okay?”

“Sorry.” I nodded, too ashamed of myself to look her in the eyes. “Yeah, sorry.”

I watched her feet turn and walk away, and it took me a few extra seconds to gather the courage to turn around and look at Camille. She wasn’t looking at me, though. She was watching the floor, appearing as uncomfortable as I suddenly felt. Luna, on the other hand, was staring at the door where Abby disappeared, eyes wide and her eyebrows almost in her hairline. I trudged over and sat down by Camille, and not one of us said a thing for a long minute.

“Yeah…” Luna murmured eventually, shifting and beginning to stand. “I’m going to get a soda.” She left without another glance back.

“Camille,” I began my earnest apology, “I-”

“We don’t,” she interrupted, clearing her throat. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

I stared at her, speechless, while I reached out in the connection to try and see what she was feeling. There was a hint of jealousy, but not nearly as much as I expected. No anger. She wasn’t even hurt, just… uncomfortable. “You know what I just did,” I said. “You felt it. You’re not mad?”

Her gaze finally left the floor, rising to meet mine, and despite the way I’d acted, her brown eyes were gentle as ever. “Here’s the thing,” she took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, “I was jealous last semester, and I was angry, and resentful of her, and it wasn’t a good feeling. You love me, I know it, and you’ve never cheated on me, because I’d feel it.” She paused, glancing toward the door of the gym and then shrugging. “I guess, maybe sometimes we feel things we don’t mean to, and if it wasn’t for the connection, I’d never know what you felt… about her.” She sighed, taking a few moments to speak again. “I trust you, Kyla, and I trust you to know what you want. I think it’d be unfair of me to judge anything other than what you do, and what you did was let her go. So the easiest thing for me, and our relationship, and my friendship with Abby is just… to not think about it. Okay?”

I nodded, but I still felt guilty that she was dealing with whatever leftover feelings I had, and that she could feel them. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “It’s kind of weird, but… I’m getting used to it? And your feelings for me never change so… I don’t know. I’m fine, too.”

“They never change because I love you.”

She gave a grateful smile. “I know.”

“And I want you,” I added.

She narrowed her eyes at me, staring for a few seconds while her smile faded to a smirk and I caught a flash of mischief in the connection. “I’ll make you want me.” She pounced, and the shriek of laughter I let out as she tackled me to the ground was stifled by her lips. I threw my arms around her neck instead of wrestling to let her kiss me. I kissed back, pouring into it my appreciation for her being more patient and understanding than I deserved. For her being sweet and trusting when she could just as easily get jealous and give ultimatums. There was no doubt in my mind how much I loved her. How much I never wanted to be without her.

We didn’t get to kiss long before the door opened again. A few other students in workout clothing walked in and stopped at the entrance, scanning the gym until they found Camille and me. “Hey,” one of the guys called as we separated, and he tossed a thumb toward the door, “some girl out there said to remind you there’s a junkyard hunk waiting for TLC? Whatever that means?”

“Got it,” Camille laughed. “Thanks.”

We got to our feet, and I linked my hand with hers and followed her out to the hall where Luna was waiting with her drink. It wasn’t a long drive to the junkyard, and we parked outside the gates so the man wouldn’t know we were coming. All the lights in his long mobile home were on as we strode up to his front door. Camille hammered her fist against it, and a few seconds passed before it swung open.

She didn’t give him a chance to say anything. “Hi.” She pushed her way past him, Luna and me right behind her.

“I HAVE HAD IT,” the man roared, “WITH TEENAGE GIRLS BARGING IN-”

“Sit down!” Luna said, shoving him onto the couch right across from the entrance. He glanced sideways at the shotgun a few feet away, propped against the opposite end of the sofa. When he made a dive for it, Luna reached out to grab him by the face, throwing him back the other way so he collided with the cushioned arm. “What’d I say?” she demanded.

Though it was clear to both Camille and me she was only playing bad cop like she wanted, he stopped fighting and sank back into the couch, nodding. “Okay.”

She furrowed her eyebrows at him, and then turned a pout on me. “That was too easy to be fun.”

I grabbed a nearby chair from the dining table, swung it over, and sat down on it backward. “We got questions.”

Camille did the same, propping a chair facing forward at my side and leaning to set her elbows on her knees. “That you’re going to answer.”

He nodded again, and Luna picked up the shotgun to lean it over her shoulder with a disappointed look on her face. “You’re almost boring me, pal.” She slapped him in the arm, causing him to flinch. “Look at all this muscle. You’re going to let us boss you around?”

“You don’t know the shit I’ve seen a few days ago,” he said, swallowing hard. “I’ll answer your questions.”

“Did you hear the news about your friend?” Camille asked. “Alvin.” The man shook his head. “He’s dead.”

“Son of a bitch.” Another shake of the head, and he mumbled to himself, “I told him.”

“Told him what?” I asked.

He glanced up at me. “Told him to run.” Camille and I looked at each other, and then at him. “Some girl came by the other day, looking for his hunting rifle. He leaves it here because he works up at that Tollbridge Academy, can’t have guns on campus.”

“Why’d you tell him to run?” Luna asked.

“That girl,” the man answered, “she said she wanted the gun ‘he used.’ Like she knew. And she was scary. Ain’t weigh a buck ten sopping wet, but threw me clean out the door with her bare hands. Shot her with that shotgun, too,” he pointed to the gun Luna was holding, “she was bleeding, but that thing should’ve put her down for good. Then this giant ass wolf comes out of nowhere, thought the thing would rip me to shreds. I told Alvin to run, alright. Things looking for him I wouldn’t want to see again in my lifetime.”

“That’s why no one had seen him,” I said. “He was trying to run.”

“Didn’t work though, did it?” Camille added. “She found him.”

“How about the locket?” I mused, and looked at the man again. “Alvin had a picture of a little girl. Who was she?”

“Probably his daughter,” he said.

“She alive?” Luna asked, tapping the side of the shotgun’s trigger with her index finger.

The man nodded in earnest. “Lives with her mother up in Seattle.”

“Who’d Alvin kill?” Camille asked.

The man glared. “What makes you think I-” Luna cocked the shotgun. “Come on,” he pleaded, “anybody hears about this and I’m toast.”

“Camille,” Luna said, nodding toward him, “rip his arms off.”

If the man was worried about that at all, he might’ve seen the eye roll Camille gave. Instead, he stared at her for all of three seconds and whispered to himself, “Camille…” A few seconds later he drew in a heavy gasp and clutched at the armrest of the couch, sinking farther into the cushions and muttering under his breath, “Werewolves.”

“Great,” Luna sighed. “Now we have to kill him.”

“No, no, no.” He panicked, his voice shaky and his eyes growing moist. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear, please, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Please.”

“Dude,” Luna laughed, “you’re killing me, I was joking.” She pointed a finger at him, her face going stern. “But if you tell anyone, we will kill you.”

“I won’t,” he said, “I swear.”

“Who did Alvin kill?” Camille asked again.

“And how?” I added, and Camille nodded at me in acknowledgment.

“We were out hunting last year,” he began to explain. “It was cold, we were drinking.”

“Illegal,” Luna interjected, pointing at him again, “continue.”

“Alvin caught sight of some big game and took a shot. But it wasn’t game.” The man let out a sigh, leaning forward to set his elbows on his knees. “It was this old guy named Wheeler from a dive bar up the road. He was alive, and Alvin tried to stop the bleeding while I called it in, but neither of us was getting any service out there. It was an accident…”

“He died,” Camille said, brow furrowed angrily. “He died and you didn’t tell anyone.”

“We knew he didn’t have any family that’d be looking for him,” the man answered. “Alvin had his daughter, I got an older boy of my own, we couldn’t risk going to prison.”

“Where’d it happen?” I asked.

“Hunting trail out toward Pine Hollow.” His eyes shut as he shook his head. “It was an accident.”

I glanced at Camille, and her face was pale as she nodded and said, “Pine Hollow is east.”

“The bullet the girl took,” I said, “it was from the same gun Alvin killed him with?”

The man hummed a confirmation, and my head fell. This wasn’t looking good for any of us, but especially for Camille. Alvin’s crime was an accident, just like hers, and it was clear that Constance didn’t care whether or not it was intentional. She was getting revenge on anyone she could, and Camille’s insides were so suddenly twisted it was making me queasy.

“Let’s go,” I murmured. “We got what we need.”

Luna dropped the shotgun to the floor, calling to the man as she followed us out, “Maybe you should be a little less trigger-happy, asshole.”

We trudged to the jeep, climbing in and then sitting there for a minute in silence. I stared out the windshield into the darkness until Camille grabbed the steering wheel in both hands and dropped her forehead against it. She’d never felt like this before, this cold and empty and sick. This guilty. Maybe it was because of what she was going through, but I felt guilty too. She hadn’t wanted to do this. She hadn’t wanted anywhere near this case, and because I’d forced her, she’d become the case.

“The bullet,” Luna said, breaking the silence. “It was from the murder weapon. Just like alcohol was used to kill Travis, and a bottle of it was found in Devon’s hand.”

“And the locket?” I asked. “Devon’s bracelet? They had to be sentimental, right?”

“Maybe,” Luna agreed. “I can’t see any other connection.”

I glanced over, and though Camille might’ve been listening, she hadn’t picked her head up. “Cami?” I asked in worry. “You alright?”

She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and swallowed hard before lifting her forehead from the steering wheel. “Yeah,” she answered, starting up the engine and putting the Jeep in drive. “Let’s get out of here.” But I could feel that she wasn’t alright, and all I could really do was reach over to set my hand in her lap, hoping it did something for the overwhelming amount of guilt in her chest.

<<< Abby's Journal

<<< Chapter 6

Abby's Journal >>>

Chapter 8 >>>