AllFreeNovel
Share Us
By the time Bianca had arrived at the parking area, limping and breathing hard, cop cars had sealed off the gravel lane. The night had been illuminated by the red and blue flashes from the vehicles from the sheriff’s department. Two deputies with flashlights and weapons drawn had begun running along the path Bianca had indicated, the dusty trail that wound along the banks of the creek to where the body lay partially submerged.
Bianca crumpled against the front of an old pickup that belonged to Joaquin Castillo, then realized the bumper was covered in dirt and dead insects. She jerked herself upright as some of the other kids trickled out of the woods to be confronted by the cops. Those who were still hiding, the idiots who thought they could escape on foot, would certainly be identified through the vehicles that had been abandoned and the statements of their friends, assuming everyone came clean.
Had it really been Destiny? The quiet girl who had sat in the back of the English class she’d shared with Bianca? A girl who had barely spoken? A girl with big eyes and a shy smile? A girl no one had really noticed?
Now the events of the night caught up to her and she thought she might be sick, right here, in the front seat of her mom’s car. She fought the urge to puke and instead told her detective mother what had happened. Bianca didn’t hold back. Usually she kept a lot of secrets from her mother. She had to. Not only did Mom think she should run Bianca’s life, but there was just a lot of stuff that was private, things she’d rather not let her mom know about. It was her life after all, not her cop mom’s. But tonight, after being scared as hell, she spilled everything. She’d already pointed out the way to the body, but then she’d led Deputy Rule along the trail herself. She knew, deep in her heart, not to hold back, and she’d made herself watch as they’d shined lights on the girl in the creek. They’d asked if she recognized her. Could the body be that of Destiny Rose Montclaire? The near-white hair was right. But the rest?
She thought so and had simply nodded.
Now, considering it, she shivered again.
“I’m sorry,” she said to her mother, but for once Regan Pescoli didn’t go ballistic, nor read her the riot act, nor even mention that Bianca had been a Cretin to be a part of the party. She didn’t point out that Bianca had lied to her, or that there was a curfew or anything. She didn’t even ask if Bianca had smoked any weed or drunk as much as a swallow of beer. No. All Regan had been concerned with was that Bianca was okay. Which she wasn’t.
Bianca still shuddered at the thought of that pallid body, eye sockets empty and dark, water causing her pale hair to float around what was left of her face.
“It . . . it was horrible,” she said now,
and looked out the open window of the Jeep. No more music now, no rumbling engines, just the sound of cops asking questions, low voices and boots or shoes or flip-flops on the bare, sparse gravel. She wondered if she could ever get the image of the dead girl out of her mind. She doubted it.
“But you recognized her?”
“I don’t know, Mom. Maybe she’s Destiny. Her hair was right, I think . . . she could be.” She shuddered, again trying to eradicate the horrid, deeply etched image from her brain.
“We’ll figure that out. How’s your ankle?”
“Awful.” That wasn’t a lie—it was throbbing like crazy.
“Let’s have the EMTs look at it.”
“No! I just want to go home.” Never had her new bedroom sounded so good.
“That’s not happening,” her mother said, and Bianca noticed she shifted uncomfortably behind the wheel. “Santana will take you to the hospital. For X-rays. I’ve got to stay here for a while.”
“Mom, no!”
“It’ll be okay. If you want, I’ll have your father meet you there.” For once, her mother’s lips didn’t tighten at the mention of her ex, Bianca’s dad, Luke Pescoli. Everyone called him “Lucky” and everyone liked him. Everyone, that was, but Regan Pescoli. While all of Bianca’s friends thought Lucky was fun and kind of cool, even sexy for an old guy, her mom seemed to hate him, or at least be irritated by him all of the time. Worse yet, Mom didn’t like his wife, Michelle, even though Bianca thought her stepmother was pretty cool. Yeah, Michelle was only a few years older than Jeremy, but she was fun. Mom wasn’t. Bianca guessed her mother hated Michelle because she was thin, blond, and fashion conscious, always wore high heels, and looked great in a bikini. Bianca had heard her mother called Michelle a “Barbie doll,” so it stood to reason she was jealous.
Whatever. It didn’t really matter. At least not tonight.
“Dad doesn’t need to come,” she said, then hesitated, wavering, thinking about her run down that mountain.
Regan Pescoli’s parent radar went up. Or maybe her detective radar. “There’s something else.” It wasn’t a question.
Bianca nodded. Swallowed hard.
“What?” Her mother’s voice was soft. Not demanding.
“It sounds stupid.”
“Nothing’s stupid.”
Bianca blew out a long breath of air. “Well, this is. I mean . . . I told you about being chased through the woods.”
“Umm.”
“Well, it was more than just the boys, you know, chasing the girls. I think there was something else.”
Her mother tensed. “Like what?”
