“Wife,” he corrects, and I snort, knowing that there’s a very real possibility that he’s not joking. When we walk into class together, Taylor is already there, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.
“Better go. Your little girlfriend doesn’t look too happy,” I tease him, sliding into a desk at the opposite side of the room.
“She’ll live.” He smirks, taking the desk next to mine, but then he focuses on something behind me, and his smile falters. I frown, looking over my shoulder to see two police officers making their way into the room. Everyone in class exchanges confused looks while they speak in hushed whispers with Mr. Turner.
“Listen up,” Mr. Turner says in a voice more serious than the one he usually uses. “These officers would like to talk to you about an incident that occurred over the weekend.”
One of the officers with dark, slicked-back hair moves toward the front of the class to address us. “As he said, an incident occurred on Friday night involving one of our officer’s houses. The perpetrator is believed to be a student here, so if anyone knows anything, or maybe saw something, now is the time to speak up.”
No one says a word as the officers survey the class with expectant expressions. I swallow hard, looking at Holden out of the corner of my eye. He flicks a pencil between his thumb and forefinger, appearing bored, but I know it’s an act. The all-black getup. The bloody nose. It was him. It wasn’t some pissed-off husband he was running from. It was the police, and by letting him in my car, I unknowingly became an accomplice.
I sit back, folding my arms across my chest, pissed that he dragged me into this.
When it’s clear that no one is going to talk, he speaks again. “All right, well, if anyone has any information, I’ll leave our card with your teacher.” He turns to Mr. Turner. “Thanks for letting us interrupt.”
Mr. Turner nods, shaking the officer’s hand. Everyone breaks out in chatter about what could’ve possibly happened and who it could be. As the officers near my desk, one narrows his eyes, regarding me warily. He pauses next to me, tapping two knuckles on my desk.
“Shayne Courtland?” he asks, and my eyes lift to meet his.
“Yeah?” My stomach drops, anxiety making my heart rate double.
“Mind if we have a word with you in the hall for a second?”
“Um.” I look around, not knowing what to say.
“It’ll only take a minute,” he says, assuring me. I nod, pushing out of my desk. I chance a glance at Holden, and I can tell he’s nervous by the way his jaw tenses.
“Are they even allowed to do that?” some girl I don’t know asks in a hushed tone.
“It’s not like they’re interrogating anyone,” a kid named Jason replies. “They don’t need permission to talk to us.”
“He’s right. It’s at the school’s discretion,” Mr. Turner explains. “Now let’s get back to work.”
I fold my arms over my chest as I follow them out of the classroom. As soon as we’re in the hall and the door is closed, they don’t waste any time getting to the point. “There was a car stopped on Arrowhead Trail at the same time of the incident that matches your vehicle’s description.”
I blink, surprised. “How do you know what car I drive?” How do they know me at all?
“Small town,” the second officer supplies after they exchange a look. “We were actually about to call you up to the front. Did you happen to see anything?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“So, why were you stopped in the middle of the road?” Suspicious eyes narrow at me.
The question catches me off guard. I should tell the truth. I don’t owe Holden a thing, and this kind of trouble is the last thing I need. Arms still folded, I turn my head toward the window in the door, seeking him out. He’s watching me intently, his expression unreadable.
“It was a deer,” I say, peeling my eyes away from Holden.
“A deer,” he repeats, skepticism lacing his tone.
I bob my head. “Yeah. It shot out of the woods,” I swipe the air with my arm, “and ran right in front of my car.”
Officer number one looks over at the other one, the two of them having a silent conversation. It’s not like it’s an unlikely story. It happens all the time.
“Did you hit it?”
“No. I slammed on the brakes in time, but it spooked me. I took a minute to collect myself, and then I drove home.”
Officer number two pulls out a notepad, writing something down.
“Did I do something wrong? Do I need to call my mom?” I frown, giving them my best wide-eyed innocent look, pushing my lips into a pout.
“No, no,” officer number one is quick to reassure me. “We’re about done here. You didn’t happen to see anyone on your way home?”
I mash my lips together, pretending to think it over. “No, not that I can recall.”
“Okay.” He sighs. “If you happen to remember anything that might be useful…” he trails off, stretching out his hand to offer me his card. I take it from between his two fingers, nodding as I read the information.
Edward Wood
Officer- Badge #580
Sawyer Point Police Department
Underneath that are his email, phone, and fax number.
“Thanks.”
“Have a good one,” he says while the other guy dips his chin before turning to leave. “And watch out for deer.”
The tension leaves my shoulders and I breathe out a sigh of relief while walking back into class. I ignore Holden for the rest of class, even though I can feel his eyes on me, and when the bell rings, I’m the first one out the door. Holden catches up to me and captures my elbow, spinning me around to face him.
“Thank you.” His eyes that remind me so much of Thayer’s don’t hold their usual mirth. He’s being sincere, letting the mask slip just a little.
“Whatever you’re doing, leave me out of it.”
“What’s your problem?” he asks, frowning, as if he genuinely doesn’t understand.
“My problem? We could go to jail,” I whisper-yell through clenched teeth, glancing around to make sure no one is listening.
Holden scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips. “Relax, no one is going to jail.”
“I realize that you’re essentially above the law, but we normal people don’t have the luxury of having families with deep pockets.”
“You really think I’d let you go out like that?”
“What am I supposed to think? A couple weeks of playing nice don’t change the past year.”
Something like hurt flashes in his eyes, but he hides it almost as quickly as it came. “Fair enough.” He looks me up and down, as if seeing me in a new light, taking a couple backwards steps away from me.
“Holden—”
“Nah. I get it.” He turns his back to me, and I sigh.
“What was that about?” Valen asks, sidling up to me.
“I think I just hurt his feelings.”
“He has feelings?” She mock gasps.
“Apparently so.”
“Interesting.” She tilts her head, looking after his retreating form as he disappears into the crowd of students milling around for a second before turning back to me. “Are you, like, so ready for the big game tonight?” she asks in a ridiculous Valley Girl accent.