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“You’re absolutely certain of this?”
“I believe she’s answered you, Detective. Please move on,” Will said.
“Fine. We just have a few more things to cover before we let you go. First, we’re gonna have to get your recounting of when you found Nyleah.”
Oh. That. Her breath caught in her chest. She swallowed hard to keep from bursting into tears. She remembered that moment vividly. She thought about it every day. She still smelled the wood from the columns in the clubhouse. The green felt rubbing against her fingertips and the bass from the music as it pounded through her body.
And then there was the terror.
Everyone stared at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back. Instead, she took a deep breath and, through trembling lips, exhaled slowly before recounting the worst moment of her life. Webb took notes, and her father rubbed her back with his large hands. It soothed her, but not enough.
Webb was nodding as she finished. “I know that was hard. Thank you.”
She sniffed and said nothing.
“We’re almost done, sweetheart. I have to ask everyone this. Sorry. Do you lift weights?”
“Sometimes. We—the dance team has to do conditioning before practice. We do curls and squats and stuff like that.”
“Pushups? Bench press?”
“Pushups, no bench press.”
“And what weight do you squat?”
“Squats 60, deadlifts 80.”
“Nice.”
“Why does that matter?” she asked, feeling embarrassed.
It was Ackerman who spoke this time. “It’s just a general question we’re asking everyone.”
She didn’t believe him.
“Do you have any pets? A dog, perhaps?”
Bria shook her head.
Webb dismissed them, and she was relieved to be out of there. Her father kept shooting looks at her as they walked back to the car. Thankfully, he let her inside and turned the air on before shutting the door and leaving her alone while he stood outside in the heat talking to Mr. Strozier. She kept her eyes on her father as she dug her finger under her bandage and lightly scraped at her stitches with her fingernail.
The kids were supposed to meet on Monday, which was Labor Day. No one had practice, and Danielle’s parents would be out on their boat all day.
They had a lot to talk about.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bakarirelishedthesorenessin his muscles. It seeped in after every game and slowly worked its way out little by little until the next Friday when he did it all over again. It was a good sign, a sign that he was pushing himself harder and further than he had last time. Coach Bryant stayed on them about stretching themselves to the limit, and while some of the guys were content with doing the bare minimum, Bakari took that message to heart. Always pushing, pushing, pushing. Even off the field.
Like tonight. He pulled up to Danielle’s house and parked along the curb.
He had dated a lot of girls since he first started liking girls, and most of them had been the kinds of girls that turned heads. The kind that had boys attracted to them and girls who were so jealous, they would scratch her eyes out if they could. But none of those girls had ever affected him the way Danielle did.
Truthfully, she wasn’t what he had always considered attractive, but there was just something about her. Something that piqued his interest. When she looked at him, he felt like she was looking into his soul. Reading his every thought, judging, analyzing, categorizing him. The idea excited him, but it also made him nervous, because a look into his soul wouldn’t reveal anything interesting or deep or meaningful. Only football.
Not that he wasn’t proud of his successes. Last week, Coach told him his highlight reels had been very well-received, and if that wasn’t evidence enough, the numbers didn’t lie. Speed-wise, he was top 25 in the country. He checked Maxpreps every night and had watched his ranking climb steadily since last year. The future was looking very promising. Good thing, too, because his father was always watching. Waiting to pounce on any little mistake. And he stayed busy on that account, because Bakari made plenty.
But tonight wouldn’t be one of them. Danielle wouldn’t be a mistake. She would be a palate cleanser, washing away the taste of the fear, sadness, and guilt that had plagued him over the past few months.
