Chapter Text
The flashing lights of the police car alternately illuminated the O'Neill house with blue and red flashes, prompting residents of the surrounding houses to look out of the windows and look at their new neighbours with interest.
Sarah stood on the porch with her arms wrapped around her shoulders and watched the conversation between her mother and the sheriff indifferently. She had done nothing wrong, and yet she felt guilty. Sheriff Nixon, Derek's father, was a tall, strong man who looked stern and unfriendly, and this made the girl even more uncomfortable.
“...Thank you for bringing my daughter, Sheriff,” Mrs. O’Neill was saying.
“This is my job. I advise you to be careful, at least not to walk in the forest in the evenings.”
“Yes, sure! Thank you again!”
Their voices reached Sarah's ears as if through a thick lay of water.
Sheriff Nixon started to walk towards the car, but turned around halfway and added:
“Don't worry... don't worry about your daughter. I'll look after her.”
They were silent for several moments, looking into each other's eyes.
“Thank you,” Sarah’s mother replied with a smile in her voice.
The man smiled shortly at her before getting into the car and driving away. The blue and red flashes gradually moved away until they finally disappeared around the bend.
Mrs. O'Neill put her arm around her daughter's shoulders and led her into the house, as her hands were shaking.
“Mom?..” Sarah turned her face to her mother in alarm.
“It’s okay, honey, I was just scared for you. I'm sorry your date ended like this…”
The girl just grimaced at the mention of her date with Luke.
“That's okay,” she answered.
“You can’t imagine how glad I am that everything is fine with my birdie!” — She hugged Sarah even tighter. “You're all wet! Go take a hot shower, while I prepare some chamomile tea and bring it to your room.”
The room was dark, but Sarah didn't want to turn on the light. She went to the window, behind which the red fog was swirling, and looked out into the street, as if wanting to find something. After what happened in the forest, the girl could not get rid of the nagging feeling in her chest. It was probably just fear, she told herself, but still…
She reached for the switch with the hope that the light would dispel the fears tormenting her. Someone's icy wet hand touched her arm.
Horror squeezed the girl’s throat; she couldn’t even breathe. Trembling all over, she slowly, very slowly turned around and saw him. A guy with charred eyes. Sam.
“Help...” the deadman rustled, and Sarah screamed.
It was light outside the window. Sarah could hear the bell on someone's bicycle ringing as it moved away.
She lay there with her eyes wide open. Her heart was pounding as if after running, and the girl thought that over the past few days it had been working hard, because experiencing so much stress was clearly not normal. Maybe she should go to the doctor and ask for a prescription for something to reduce anxiety? Then she will have to talk about the sources of stress, but perhaps finding a corpse is a sufficient reason?
A short knock on the door anticipated the appearance of mother in the room.
“You'll be late!” she exclaimed with ostentatious severity. “Get ready, now Sheriff Nixon should come for you and take you to the station so that you can make a satement.”
Mrs. O'Neill left, and Sarah lay in bed for a few more minutes, gathering her strength and waiting for her breathing and heartbeat to return to normal. As soon as she closed her eyes, she again saw a dead body surrounded by flowers. Even the memory of this filled her with a cold from which there was no protection. If the dead man would also haunt her in her dreams... Horror chilled her to the bones; she couldn’t get warm even under a blanket and blanket. Sarah looked at the dream catcher lying next to the bed and decided to return it to Mrs. Hill.
She still had to get up. It looks like she fell asleep as soon as she got out of the shower yesterday, because there was still a damp towel on her hair, and her cup of tea looked untouched. The girl got dressed, choosing shorts with tights and a lilac jacket with a zipper, grabbed her backpack and hurriedly went downstairs.
There was already a police car parked outside the house, and Mom was arguing with Sheriff Nixon in the driveway about something. They turned to Sarah as she approached.
“Good morning, Sarah,” the sheriff greeted.
The morning was not good at all, either today or yesterday, and the girl was convinced that it would not be good tomorrow either, but she still answered his greeting.
“Hello.”
“You and Luke,” he nodded towards the car, “will need to come with me to the station to give statements.”
The girl only now noticed the dejected figure in the back seat of the car. The guy saw that she was looking at him and flabbily waved his hand at her.
“What are the statements?” Mom said, looking at the sheriff with indignation. “They don’t know anything. The children simply came across a body in the forest. They've had enough traumas!”
“Whether they know something or not, we’ll find out now,” the sheriff objected to her, obviously not for the first time that morning.
Mom extended her hand to Sarah, shielding her and as if trying to protect her.
“Do you know that the police have the right to interrogate teenagers who have reached the age of sixteen, even without the consent and presence of their parents?” Sheriff Nixon asked. “Is your daughter already fully sixteen years old, Mrs. O’Neill?”
“Yes, but...” the woman said in confusion.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. O’Neill, I will get Sarah to school safe and sound after she gives her statement.”
Reluctantly, the mother stepped aside to let her daughter walk to the police car.
“Be careful, birdie,” she said, touching her daughter’s shoulder.
Sarah and the sheriff headed to the car when suddenly her mother spoke again:
“Sheriff Nixon, can I talk with you for a minute?”
The man motioned for Sarah to wait by the car and walked away.
Luke got out of the car. He looked nervous, did not take his worried gaze off the sheriff, as if trying to if not hear, then read in his lips what he was talking about with Sarah’s mother.
“What happened to you?” the girl asked quietly.
“Are you asking?” he snapped, and then lowered his voice. “We found my friend dead in the forest!”
“I didn’t know you were friends,” Sarah muttered.
“We were friends,” Luke sighed and was silent for a while, thinking about something, before speaking again. “There was something wrong with Sam’s death... His eyes... Do you remember his eyes?”
Sarah felt the icy wet hand from her dream squeezing her heart.
“I remember,” she said.
“Don’t forget this,” the guy closed his eyes. His face was distorted by a grimace of anger. “Who could do this to him? The sheriff is silent, but he clearly knows something. I couldn’t sleep until almost the morning, I kept thinking about Sam, about how we found him…”
Luke rested one hand on the roof of the car and nervously ran the other one through his hair.
“I remember the day he disappeared. And I feel guilty.”
“Guilty?” Sarah repeated with a bad feeling.
The guy shook his head.
“Let's not talk about this.”
The bad feeling became so strong that the girl could no longer bear it. If he could tell her something, let her know more about what was going on here, then she should hear it.
“You can trust me,” Sarah said carefully, touching Luke’s elbow.
The guy was silent for a while, glanced quickly in the direction of the sheriff and Mrs. O'Neill, and quickly spoke in a low voice:
“Sam was not in a good mood that day. He was threatened with expulsion; he quarrelled with his stepfather and he kicked him out of the house. He comes from a poor family, and going to college on an athletic scholarship was his only chance to leave here for the big city, to become something more than a gas station worker like his stepfather. Sam had always had bad nerves, but that day he was angrier than ever. He talked about how fed up he was with everything, in such a tone as if he was planning something; it wasn’t even clear to whom exactly he was addressing. I told him that he definitely wouldn't get kicked out of school because he was the star of the school football team, but either I was too relaxed or he didn't hear me anymore. It was as if he was talking to himself, he kept talking and talking, blaming his drunkard stepfather, who got his spineless mother drunk and beat her. Red all over with anger. He said that he wanted to teach his stepfather, this bastard, a lesson, but he didn’t say anything specific. On the same day, or rather, almost at night, Sam came to me. He smashed the windows in his house with stones, threw one precisely at his stepfather’s head. He realised that he was completely in trouble. That's why he came running to me; he had no one else to turn to. He was shaking all over and asked me to let him hide in our house from the police. My parents would not have sheltered him, and I also saw no other way out for him except to surrender to the police. Then Sam ran towards the forest. I didn't see him again. I haven't seen him alive. If I only had let him stay with me…”
Luke was ready to cry. Sarah was shocked at how much strength this story took from him. She squeezed his forearm slightly, trying to show support.
“Thank you for sharing with me,” she said, and he nodded gratefully. - What about Sam’s stepfather? Was he alive after this incident?”
“He got off easy, especially compared to Sam,” the hatred in the guy’s voice was almost palpable.
Mrs. O'Neill and the sheriff finally ended their conversation. Mom waved goodbye to them, watching anxiously as Sarah got into the police car. The sheriff said something to her, the girl did not hear, but her mother smiled back at him.
Sheriff Nixon remained silent, concentrating on the road. In the reflection of the rearview mirror, Sarah saw part of his serious face, almost angry, with traces of a sleepless night.
The girl had never been to interrogations before, only seen them in TV shows and movies, and although she was not to blame for Sam’s death, her disturbance did not allow her to sit quietly. She wanted to break the silence in the car or jump out of there in an attempt to escape from the oppressive tension.
Suddenly there was a sound of impact and a crash, the car jerked and stopped abruptly. The sheriff swore and got out of the car, slamming the door. Luke jumped out after him. After hesitating, Sarah unfastened her seat belt and also left the car.
Sheriff Nixon was squatting next to the front wheel, looking at something.
“Stupid animals, they throw themselves under the car,” he muttered with irritation.
Sarah saw a man pulling a dead hare out from under a wheel. The unfortunate animal's skull was crushed, its grey fur was soaked in blood, and only its long ears signaled that it was a hare. Black mucus flowed from the burst eye, smelling of swamp and decay. The girl felt sick.
“What... What was it doing by the road?” she asked, squeezing the car door with her fingers to steady herself.
The sheriff shrugged.
“Apparently, something in the forest scared it. It was running from a wolf and ran into a car.” He threw the animal’s corpse aside from the road. “Go.”
Sarah turned around before getting back into the car. The bulging remaining eye looked straight at her. No, it didn’t look, it couldn’t look. This animal is definitely dead, Sarah thought, feeling the cold, sticky sweat on her back.
At the police station, Sarah and Luke spoke on the record about how they found Sam, trying not to miss a single detail, but Sheriff Nixon did not look satisfied.
“So, that’s how it all happened?” The man looked at them searchingly, squinting, and looked from one teenager to another, and then to the sheets of paper with their written statements.
“It’s true,” the girl leaned forward. “True from the first to the last word.”
“And that's all? Don't you have anything else to tell me?”
The sheriff's gaze settled on Luke's face and they locked eyes. When Sarah thought she couldn't bear the tension any longer, Luke finally responded:
“This is all.”
Sheriff Nixon, without saying a word, took something out of his desk’s drawer.
“This is what we found in Sam's pocket.”
“What is this?” Sarah stared blankly at the transparent bag, which contained a smaller bag with grey powder at the bottom.
“Drugs,” he said almost in a sing-song voice with an unpleasant intonation. “Did you know that Sam takes drugs?”
“No...” said Luke.
“This drug affects the mucous membranes of the eyes and mouth. If you get carried away, it begins to corrode them,” the sheriff did not take his eyes off the guy’s face, watching his reaction.
“What are you trying to say?” Luke said with a threat in his voice. Sarah saw his tense knuckles turn white.
“Did Sam ever mention these drugs or anyone who might be taking them?”
“No, never. Is it…” Luke swallowed nervously. “Is it because of the drugs that his eyes were like that?”
“I need a list of those with whom Sam communicated,” the sheriff said, pulling out a blank sheet of paper from a stack of papers, leaving the guy’s question unanswered.
“He communicated with everyone.”
“So list them all. I need them all,” the man rummaged through a cup of pens and handed one to Luke along with a sheet of paper. “First, the names of those with whom Sam had conflicts.”
He was silent for a moment, watching as Luke wrote down names Sarah didn't recognize. The girl noticed that a certain Michael was listed third on the list and thought that this could be the impudent bigot she encountered — just think! — yesterday, but it feels like a month has passed since yesterday morning.
“Anyway, the whole school will have to take a drug test,” Sheriff Nixon said matter-of-factly.
“What? How is this related?” Sarah frowned in confusion.
“I hope I don’t need to say that there’s no need to rant about all this?” I don’t need panic,” the sheriff fell silent and looked at the girl. “Sarah, could you leave Luke and me? You can wait for him at the reception.”
“Yes, no problem,” the girl nodded and left the office with relief.
“He doesn’t need panic. No way he doesn’t need panic! He needs panic. Otherwise he wouldn’t talk about tests. He clearly suspects that Luke is hiding something from him...” Sarah thought, automatically running her eyes over the text of the poster calling for compliance with the established speed limit. She took an old magazine from the table, clearly with a summer-holiday theme, and began to listlessly flip through the pages. She couldn't hear what the sheriff was talking about with Luke, but the intonation coming from behind the door was tense.
Two officers entered the reception area and moved on, not paying any attention to the girl.
“...And what does the sheriff think about this?” asked the tall policeman.
“It seems to me that he’s overthinking too much,” the second one, shorter and with a moustache, shook his head. “An ordinary junkie, overdose — and the case is closed.”
“Yes, but ten years ago the same thing happened,” the first said thoughtfully, and wanted to add something else, but his colleague pulled him back, pointing at Sarah with his eyes:
“Quiet!” he hissed.
Both police officers looked at the girl, but she quickly looked down at the magazine and pretended to be terribly interested in an article about choosing the right equipment to prepare a yacht for the perfect vacation. The officers were silent for a while and continued the conversation in a whisper, but
Sarah still managed to hear a couple of phrases:
“...Well, so what? - said the moustachioed policeman. “Then there was a series of murders, and we only have one corpse.”
“So maybe this is the first one,” the tall one objected.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” moustachioed policeman waved it off irritably.
Sheriff Nixon looked out of his office and, noticing his subordinates, shouted at them:
“Why are you hanging around here? Has all the work been done?”
The officers immediately straightened up and hastily retreated.
“That's all for now. If I have any more questions for you, I will contact your parents,” The sheriff walked them to the exit of the station and was about to leave, but stopped, remembering something. “Yes, right, I promised your mom that I would take you to school. Let's go.”
The police car attracted the attention of the students. Apparently, the police rarely visit educational institutions. “Maybe too rarely,” Sarah thought, remembering the tense conversation between Luke and the sheriff. For some reason, she didn't want to be seen next to Luke again, and she regretted that she hadn't asked the sheriff to drop them off away from the school. After hastily saying goodbye, she ran out of the car and hurried to Candy, who had already climbed onto the porch.
“Have you heard the news? “I had nightmares all night because of this,” Sarah began, but noticed Candy’s offended look. The new friend somehow strangely recoiled from her and moved on.
“What happened?” Sarah asked incomprehensibly, catching up with her, and almost crashed into her when she abruptly stopped and turned around.
“You went on a date with Luke!” Candy hissed with unexpected anger. “Mr. Nixon told Derek that you two were together.”
“But you said that everything is fine, that you don’t mind,” Sarah said, confused, noting to herself that Derek is a chatterbox.
Candy sighed, the aggression in her giving way to sadness.
“Yes, I know...” she muttered. “But it’s hard for me, it seems to me that I’m still... still…”
“In love with him?” Sarah suggested sensitively.
Candy shook her head.
“Let's discuss this later? Miss Baker hates latecomers.”
Sarah nodded and they hurried to class.
The corridor was crowded. The students fell silent at the sight of Sarah, and continued to whisper behind her back.
“It was you who found Sam?” she suddenly heard a question from a boy whose name she didn’t know.
The girl frowned and pursed her lips, not deigning to answer him.
“He was killed, right?” the guy didn’t let up.
It seemed like he was the only one who has the impudence or hasn't the tact to speak to her.
“What?” Sarah said absently, looking in vain for salvation from this situation. She wanted to just pass by, but her path was blocked. The girl looked around hauntedly and did not see Candy, who was pushed away from her by the crowd. Now questions about what happened began to pour in from all sides.
“Was there a lot of blood?”
“What does the sheriff say?”
“Are there any suspects?”
Dozens of pairs of eyes looked at Sarah expectantly. Many already knew that she and Luke were being interrogated, and even more saw the sheriff bring them to the school. Even the man in the janitor's uniform only pretended to be mopping the floor, but in fact he was listening, gradually approaching the excited crowd. He tore a leaflet about Sam's disappearance from the stand and looked at the girl with interest, with a heavy, searching gaze that only Sarah seemed to notice.
She felt uneasy. She stood silently, staring helplessly at the toes of her sneakers, and thought about Sam's mother, whose hope of finding her son alive was dashed by a terrible reality.
Suddenly the crowd parted, and, looking up, Sarah saw Michael and some beautiful, long-legged girl with a lush bouffant approaching her. These two did not seem to notice with what awe everyone around them looked at them, and took this attitude for granted.
“I heard that you found Sam,” Michael turned to her, and Sarah nodded, seeing no other way out.
“Yes.”
“What were you doing in the forest? Not a good place to walk alone.” He watched her with casual attentiveness, like a predator.
“I decided to unwind,” Sarah shrugged.
“Next time, call me,” he said, leaning towards her, with the smile of a famously known handsome man who broke many hearts.
The girl with the bouffant threw an appraising look at Sarah that didn’t promise anything good.
“By the way, you never said what your name is,” Michael continued and nodded towards the beauty, without taking his eyes off Sarah. “This is Adele, my friend.”
Adele immediately grabbed his hand and hung on it, as if she was trying to show that they were not just friends.
“My name is Sarah. I can’t say that it’s nice to meet you,” the girl said restrainedly, looking first at Michael and then at Adele.
Not expecting such impudence, Adele gasped in shock, and immediately her face was distorted by a grimace of anger. Michael laughed.
“Now that’s what I call a hot thing,” he grinned, looking at Sarah in a way that made her blush again. “We should go. See you soon.”
And he pulled Adele along with him, but before leaving, she looked at Sarah with a look full of arrogance.
With a hysterical warning that latecomers would face punishment, the bell for class finally rang.