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“I can get into anything,” Caleb says, his fingers flicking over the keys and doing god knows what to get Celia’s laptop open.
“Do you think someone has already gotten into this?” I ask the young whizz, trying not to lean over his shoulder too much, but I’m rather fascinated by what he’s doing right now.
“Doubtful, it hasn’t been unlocked by the looks. I’m guessing someone tried and couldn’t, so they let it be. Most people don’t push too hard unless they have reason to.”
I mean, that makes sense really. If Celia’s parents had no reason to suspect something was wrong, why would they go into her laptop? They probably tried and realized it was locked so they decided to just let it be. They had far bigger things to worry about, of course. Losing their daughter being quite enough.
My phone buzzes on the table beside us, and I look down to see it ringing. Tanner’s name flashes across the screen. I haven’t seen or heard from Tanner Yates since I told him my version of the story. A story I thought he was hearing for the first time, only to find out he knew all along who I was and what I had done.
My heart dips, and my stomach twists at the sight of his name. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Jo and I got really really drunk last night after Ethan left. I cried, I screamed, I yelled, and I swore that today when I woke up, Callie would be back in full force. I would not mope any further, I would seek the justice I deserved and, to do that, I had to leave my pain where it cannot affect me.
I didn’t think seeing Tanner’s name would bring such pain to my heart, but it is, and it’s confusing as hell.
But, I have to answer it.
I would have answered it before I knew. I know that. He knows that.
So, I have no choice but to follow through on that.
“Tanner,” I say when I bring the phone up to my ear after flicking the green button upward.
I walk out of the room as Caleb keeps working on Celia’s laptop.
“Callie, how are you?”
His voice is husky, and gorgeous, and it makes me weak at the knees. That’s quickly replaced by a cruel reminder of what he’s done, and it takes a few seconds for me to push the anger from my voice when I say, “I’m fine, how are you?”
“Good,” he murmurs. “I know I haven’t called after what you told me. Could say I was ... confused. Can we meet up? Talk?”
Is there some small chance that my story made Tanner see things differently?
Maybe he’s understanding that I’m not a monster?
I shake my head. Doubtful. He knows I’ve maintained Celia stepped in front of me that night since the court case, there is no way hearing it from me would have changed his mind. I’m being too soft. I have to stop. I’ll get hurt again, only this time so much worse.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice scratchy as I fight down the emotions trying to claw their way up. “When?”
“Tonight? My place. I want to talk.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
I hang up the phone before he can say any more. A range of feelings are at war in my chest. Part of me wants to tell him I know everything, scream at him, abuse him, and then get over it. The bigger part wants to know what they had planned for me, it wants to throw their plans right in their face. I’m smart, I’ve had a long time to myself, a long time to trust my instincts. I could play this game harder than they ever imagined.
Am I that person, though?
Is that who I am?
Who I want to be?
“I’m in!” Caleb shouts, and I turn, rushing out of the living room and back into the dining room where he’s spinning around in the chair with a huge grin on his face. “It took a lot because it was fingerprint and password protected, but I’m in.”
“Oh, my gosh!” I say, rushing over and staring at the screen where a picture of Celia and who I can assume is Chase is filling the space. They look happy, she’s utterly beautiful. My heart aches when I look at her, laughing, smiling, and the doubts begin to creep in. “Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome,” Caleb says, standing. “I enjoy a challenge. Tell Jo she owes me! Change the password and take the lock off so you can get back in.”
“Thanks, Caleb! I will.” I smile, waving at him as he leaves.
When he’s gone, I sit down at the desk with a racing heart. My skin prickles. My hands are sweating. I’m terrified and nervous and so damned scared about what I’m going to find on here. Worse, if I find nothing and I’m back to square one. I stretch my hand out to the mousepad and start scrolling.
I look through her files first. There are a ton of photos, of family, of Tanner, of Andrea and her parents. Some of Ethan and Chase. I still don’t know how Ethan fits in, and because I can’t ask, I’m going to have to figure it out on my own. I flick through each photo, looking at them, feeling my heart sink with every click.
This is killing me.
It’s ripping my insides apart.
When I’ve gone through the photos, I click on the internet and connect. Then I go into her browser history. I type in Facebook, but nothing comes up, her account has been deleted but it was worth a shot. I try Instagram and SnapChat, but nothing there, either. I search Google history, and my fingers pause over the recent searches.
‘Healing from HIV.’
‘Is there a cure for HIV?’
‘Living with HIV.’
‘Reporting a crime to the police.’
‘Plan-B pill locations.’
I shake my head and click onto some of the searches. HIV? Did Celia have HIV? If so, how and where did she get it? Was it from Chase? Did he have it and not tell her? Is that why he’s gone? Or did someone else give it to her? A crime? Did someone hurt her? My mind spins with a thousand questions. There is no other history, and I click out of the internet and go into her emails. They pop up, and my heart aches when I see the last date of the last one sent was two days before she died.
I click into them, there are only two and they’re from Chase. Any others have been deleted. These ones haven’t been read. She hasn’t seen them, which makes me wonder what happened between the two of them? Did she block him and he had to resort to emails? Was he bothering her?
I click on the first one.
Celia,
Please talk to me. I’m worried about you. I know you have no reason to ever speak to me again after what I let happen to you. But I can’t go on. I can’t live with myself. Please, let me help you through this. Unblock me so we can speak.
Chase
I blink and shake my head, confused. What did he let happen to her? My stomach doesn’t feel right, like a weight is lying on top of it. I have so many questions, and none of them have good answers. Something really bad happened to Celia, something Chase knows about, but worse, something he allowed to happen.
Celia,
Tanner came by today. I thought for a second he was there for me, and I freaked out. I know you said you’d never tell anyone, but I thought maybe you hated me enough to change your mind. I’m worried. I wish you’d talk to me, so I can help you through this. You can’t do this alone. Things are bad right now, Celia. I’m not doing so well. I might not be around, soon. I wish you would let me in.
I’m scared, Celia.
Please talk to me.
Chase x
Why would he be afraid of Tanner’s wrath?
Why would Tanner be visiting him? That makes little to no sense. I’m sure Tanner wasn’t friends with Celia’s boyfriend.
I click on Chase’s email address and read his full name. Chase Redford.
Redford.
Where have I seen that name before?
I rack my brain, but I can’t figure out where I’ve seen or heard that. I know I have, though. I know that name, I just don’t know from where. Is Chase somehow closer to Celia’s family than I first thought? Do they all know each other? I don’t understand, the questions are killing me, but at least now I have something to work with.
I know something for sure.
I have to find Chase.
He is the only one with the answers I seek.
The only one.
~*~*~*~
I RAISE MY HAND, IT trembles. I shake my head and lower it, taking a deep and steady breath, and then I raise it again. I’m nervous, I don’t know what’s going to happen when I come face to face with him. With the man that has lied to me from day one, not only that, but he’s been playing me like a masterpiece in his revenge game. I’ve thought so many times about how he must have something wrong with him to have been able to pull it off the way he did.
Maybe he’s a sociopath?
It’s questionable. Especially considering he did it all so easily, so effortlessly.
My chest clenches, and I fight down the anger. It’s becoming stronger than the hurt in the last few days. It’s become so powerful I want to stab them all with a damned knife until they plead for mercy. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but the fire brewing inside me is deadly, and it’s going to explode sometime soon.
I don’t know how facing Tanner is going to feel.
I don’t know if I can keep my anger in check.
I don’t know anything.
All I know is I have to go in there. I have to figure this out. I have to get my answers.
I bang on the door.
It takes a moment but, eventually, it opens, and Tatum appears. He looks down at me, and for the first time, I see something different in his eyes. Of course it has been there all along, I just didn’t notice it before. This time, it’s there, loud and clear. So damned obvious I feel like a fool for not having noticed it before.
It’s the look of secrets and lies. It’s a look that says he knows me. He knows what I’ve done. He knows who I am. He knows what’s happening to me. He knows everything.
There’s something else there, too.
I’d almost say guilt, but it flashes past so quickly it’s hard to pick out.
What would Tatum have to be guilty about?
“Callie, how are you?” he asks, putting on a smile that I know now is so damned fake.
I want to wipe it off his face. Instead, I force a smile of my own, and say, “I’m well, Tatum, and you?”
He nods. “Good good. How’s Jo?”
Jo.
He won’t be getting anywhere near my Jo.
“She’s good.”
He pushes the door open and says, “Tanner is in his room. Go in, he’s expecting you.”
I smile and walk into the house, I can hear chatter and laughter coming from out back and I’m guessing all the other guys are here, too. Do they all know about Celia? About me? Or is it just Tatum and Tanner? Am I being made to look like a fool in front of all of them?
My anger bubbles again, but I shove it down as I walk to Tanner’s room.
I can’t let him see it.
I have too much to find out first.
When I reach his room, I push open the door and find him on the ground doing push ups. He’s shirtless and his hard body ripples as he lifts himself up and down with ease. He’s covered in a fine layer of sweat and he looks like a god. That makes me hate him even more because my damned body hasn’t caught up on the fact that we don’t like him yet.
Damn you, body.
He’s horrible.
Turn yourself off. Immediately.
I stare for a few moments before clearing my throat to let him know I’m here. He turns, and his eyes lock onto mine. My heart does a funny little flip, and I hate it, I hate that I still feel that when I look at him.
“Hi,” I say, raising a hand in a lame wave.
He pushes up from the floor and stands, panting, huge chest rising and falling. It takes every ounce of willpower I have in my body to not look, to keep my eyes focused on his and nothing more.
“Callie,” he murmurs, “didn’t realize the time, sorry.”
He’s talking to me all professional, and correct, which tells me whatever news he’s about to deliver to me isn’t good. It’s better that way anyway. I want him to tell me he can’t be with me, I want him to leave, then I don’t have to worry about the pain that comes along with seeing him, with standing here in front of him feeling like my heart is going to explode.
It would be for the best.
“That’s okay,” I say. “I don’t have long so ...”
That’s a lie, I could be here all night if I wanted.
I just don’t.
“Sit.”
He points to the sofa in his room and I walk over, tossing a few of his shirts off and sitting, watching as he uses a towel to dry himself off and then he sits across from me. For a moment, we just stare at each other. I have no doubt he’s trying to figure out how to say whatever it is he has to say, and I’m thinking that I’m staring at a man who has known all along who I am.
I’m staring at a monster.
A cold monster.
My heart hardens, just a little, and I’m grateful for it.
It’s so much easier that way.
“I know I haven’t called you, or text. I apologize for that. What you told me, it threw me, in more ways than you can possibly realize. I don’t know what to make of the information you shared with me.”
I can’t believe he’s sitting in front of me actually acting like what I told him shocked him.
He knows.
He knows better than anyone.
What I said was not a shock.
“I told you the truth,” I say, my voice monotone and flat. “I told you my truth. I don’t care if you believe it or not, I simply needed to be honest with you.”
He studies me. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t believe me.
There is still that flicker of doubt in his eyes, like he thinks I’m the crazy one, like he believes I’m the one still trying to make my story real. He doesn’t believe me. I know he doesn’t believe me. I’ve known that from the moment I found out what him and his little twisted family have been doing. They think I’m still sticking with the story I maintained right from the start, and I’d bet they’re hoping to change my mind and have me confess to what they think really happened.
It’ll never happen.
Because their story isn’t the truth.
“I didn’t come here to plead my case,” I say, standing. “If you’re not interested in speaking with me further, that’s fine. I don’t have to give you an explanation.”
He stands, too. He studies me, those eyes penetrating deep. For a moment, I’m sure I see a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Did my story get to him? Did he stop and think, even for a second, that maybe I am right? That maybe Celia did have reason to end her life? That maybe he and his family have had it wrong all this time?
“I’m confused, as you can imagine,” he murmurs. “We all saw the news. We all know what happened to that girl. You went to prison, Callie. You were convicted for her crime. You can understand why I find it hard to believe your version of events.”
He’s speaking to me in a manner that a lawyer would speak to their client. All emotion blocked off. He’s saying only what he has to say and nothing more. It makes me feel ... pathetic. Like I’m facing it all over again, like I’m having to explain myself, even when nobody believes me.
“I don’t care what you believe, I don’t care what the rest of the world believes. I was there that night. I drove that car. I relive that moment every single day before I close my eyes. I remember the way it felt, the sounds, hell, even the smells. I know I was in the wrong, because I wasn’t watching the road, but she was not crossing. She was not already in front of my car when I looked up. She stepped out.”
I take my purse and turn, walking toward the door.
“What do you suppose her family thinks of your story?”
His voice is rough, rugged, and it shocks me.
I turn and face him, my eyes welling with tears. “I think they believe what they want to believe, because they’re too damned afraid to dig further. If they did, maybe they’d find the real story instead of the story they find easier to believe.”
Tanner’s face registers a mix of shock and confusion.
Before he can say another word. I leave.
It’s time for me to finish this.