Chapter Text
Prologue
It was a good thing Isabel had started to thaw towards him recently. For a few weeks after the shooting, Michael had been stuck in the proverbial doghouse, but for the past few days, Isabel had spoken to him in full sentences, without the cutting inflection and glares to accompany her scathing words.
Her window opened slowly, and she raised her eyebrows at him.
Michael held up a pair of pants, a ratty old shirt, and a jacket he had worn because it was warm but that he had never cared about, mostly because it was ugly as sin. It had done the job back when he couldn’t afford anything more, and he wasn’t big on throwing useful things away, but now he had a jacket he actually liked, and this one could have a second life as something different.
“I need a favor.”
Isabel eyed the clothing items for a moment and then stepped back from her window. “Get in here.”
Chapter One
The quad practically overflowed with students mentally bracing themselves for the second half of the day still to come.
Michael, with his head bent low over his Geometry book and one half of a sandwich rapidly disappearing from his left hand, cursed the course for all it was worth for what felt like the thousandth time since term started. He did his best to block out the inane chatter of his peers as they roamed or lounged around him.
Glancing at his other hand, he toyed with the idea of just holding it out over the textbook and setting it on fire. Most of the idiots around him were so caught up in their mundane lives that they probably wouldn’t even notice, let alone care, that a piece of school property spontaneously combusted.
All it would take was a little energy and some focus, and boom.
No, I’m sorry, sir. I have no idea what happened to that textbook. Guess I’ll just have to skip Geometry… forever.
A deep green bag, decked out in sequins, tiny beads, and little reflective bits of metal thumped down onto the table in front of Michael, putting an end to his brief love affair with pyromania, and he slowly set down his peanut butter, honey, and jalepeno jelly sandwich, chewing and then swallowing pointedly before he looked up at the intruder in all her crazy-haired glory.
“What do you want, DeLuca?”
“We’re kidnapping Liz for lunch today.”
“We? No. There is no ‘we’ here,” he retorted. “And why would either of us want to do that, anyway?”
“Pam Troy is a heinous, two-bit, bitch-whore, that’s why.”
Well, she wasn’t wrong. “What’d she do to Elizabeth this time?”
“Look, it doesn’t even matter, okay? Let’s just snag her and get out of this hellhole, alright? Can you just, like, work with me on this?” DeLuca looked shifty and did a poor job of disguising the fact that she was side-stepping the issue, but Michael decided to let it slide. For now.
“What about Whitman? He included in this little excursion?”
“He’s out. Strep throat. Again. Personally, I think he just wants to miss gym, not that I blame him for it. That coach is a total hardass.”
“Right,” Michael said, already tuning DeLuca out as he searched the quad for their kidnapping victim.
“Where is she?” he asked, cutting the blonde nuisance off mid-sentence.
She glared at him but otherwise refrained from calling him on it. “Last I knew, she was crying her eyes out in one of the bathroom stalls in the main hall girls room.”
“So, you’re here to…?”
“To grab you, Sunshine. So, let’s go. Pack up your crap and let’s move,” DeLuca replied, fluttering about as if she had just realized she was falling down on the job.
Normally, Michael would take his sweet time on principle, but he chose to work quickly, shoving the other half of his sandwich in his mouth and easily ignoring the appalled look DeLuca shot his way. He put his green apple, carrots, and the little plastic container of store-brand instant chocolate pudding, laced heavily with cinnamon, ginger, and clove, back in the brown paper bag he’d packed his lunch in last night, swiped his Geometry textbook into his backpack, slung the bag onto his shoulder, and then he rose, taking off for the main hall girls bathroom, DeLuca trailing after him once it dawned on her that he was going whether she was ready or not.
“What, do you, like, think you’ll be able to just waltz right in and grab her yourself? Try it, buddy. Watch how fast someone gets the principal and you get suspended.”
Michael ignored her. He would prefer it if she wasn’t necessary for this endeavor, as it would mean less time spent in her presence, but she had a point. Not that he planned on telling her that, now or ever. He strode through the halls, making good use of his bad reputation; students fled out of his path, afraid to draw his ire, upper and lowerclassmen alike.
They reached the right door in record time, and DeLuca announced, “I’m going in,” before shoving the door open dramatically. “Alright, chica,” he heard as the door closed behind her. “You’re coming with me.”
Even after the door closed, Michael could still hear the girls with little trouble, the acoustics of the bathroom and his alien heritage working together in spite of the illusion of privacy. He almost felt bad about it, but then again, it wasn’t as though he’d built the bathroom walls or chosen to hatch this way.
“That sounds vaguely threatening, and so I think in the interest of my own safety, I’m gonna have to decline,” Parker said, her voice more nasally than Michael was used to as she tried to force it into a light tone. The attempt rang hollow in Michael’s ears, and he doubted it had anything to do with the door separating them. “And anyway, look at me. I’m a mess. I can’t go out there like this, okay?”
“Oh, we’re not slumming it with the mindless masses today, babe. What do you take me for? Come on. Come let Aunty Maria make it all better.”
“And how is ‘Aunty Maria’ going to do that?”
“With tacos and soda pop – the good kind, with real sugar. And if you’re really good, I’ll even spring for some of those pecan pralines you love so much.”
“Wait, what? Maria, what are you even talking about?”
“I’m talking about blowing this pop sickle joint and going to the taco stand, chica. Best shells and taco meat in town, here we come!”
“Uh-uh. No. It’s the middle of the day, Maria, and lunch is, like, halfway over already. We can’t go.”
“So, we’ll miss fourth period. Who even needs World History, anyway?”
“Um, just about everybody?” Parker replied slowly, sounding incredulous. “If we don’t study history, we’ll just make all the same mistakes our ancestors did.”
“Well, we’re not talking about missing the entire year, just one, measly class. Come on, Liz. You’re a shoe-in for valedictorian, okay? One ditched class while the teacher rambles on about the silk road won’t change that.”
“We finished covering the silk road, like, a week ago.”
“Look, whatever. You know what I mean. Besides, the longer you spend arguing, the more classes we’ll miss later.”
“I haven’t even said yes yet. In fact, I distinctly remember saying ‘no’.”
“Your favorite brooding, spiky-haired shadow is coming,” DeLuca said slyly.
“Michael’s in on this? Michael, my best friend, who you have a mutual hate-hate relationship with, agreed to spend time in your presence without being required to do it?”
“Yep, that would be the unwashed delinquent in question.”
“Maria!”
“Oh, what? What? I mean, seriously, would it, like, kill him to take a shower every once in a while?”
“He’s, like, one of the cleanest boys I know. He just always smells a little like the diner because, surprise, he’s the cook! And anyway, I thought we agreed that you would be nicer to him.”
“This is me being nicer to him. Do you see me saying that stuff to his stupid face anymore? No, you don’t. Now, do I have to have him haul you out of here over his shoulder like the caveman he is, or are you gonna come quietly?”
It was quiet for a few moments before Michael heard a resigned, “Alright, fine. Let’s get out of here.”
“Really? You mean it?” DeLuca asked, her voice going up a few decibels. Michael winced and shot the door an irritated glance.
“Um, yeah. Let’s just go.”
“Alright, Liz! Look at you, ditching school,” DeLuca cooed. “I am, like, so proud of you right now.”
The door to the bathroom swung open, and DeLuca stepped out, Parker following close behind, her head ducked down and her face obscured by her shoulder-length brown hair.
Michael scoped the hallway for any of the staff and then he snagged his best friend’s wrist. “Follow me.”
He led the two girls down the quickest route to an exit and then headed towards the student parking lot, looking for the Jetta. “Where’s that piece of crap you call a car, DeLuca?”
She threw Parker a look that screamed, ‘You see what I have to put up with? And you’re telling me to be nice?’ “Um, excuse you, it’s a Jetta, and it happens to be my mother’s, not to mention that it’s the car which will be taking you to delicious tacos, so I’d show a little respect if I were you.” She started stalking towards the second row in the lot. “It’s this way.”
“Alright, Michael,” Parker said, “you’ve got shotgun since your legs are longer.”
“Um, I so do not think so. I’m not sitting next to him!” DeLuca cried, scandalized.
“You are if you want me to go along with this whole plan of yours instead of marching right back into that building and finishing our lunch break in the bathroom, alone,” Parker said firmly.
DeLuca scoffed. “Fine. The things I do for you, Petunia.”
“I know,” Parker sighed, her tone facetious. “You’re a saint.”
Trilling, “Aren’t I, though?” their driver for the afternoon unlocked the little red Jetta and gestured to the back seat as though she was Vanna White. “Your carriage, madam.”
“Why, thank you,” Parker replied, dipping into a shallow curtsy before climbing into the back seat.
“Alright! Tacos, here we come,” DeLuca declared as she let herself into the driver’s side.
Silently, Michael slipped into the passenger side seat, and they were off practically before he closed the door. He shot DeLuca a look and then put his seatbelt on.
The drive over passed with way too much pop music. If Michael never heard another Brittany Spears song again, it would be too soon.
They pulled up to the same taco stand Isabel and Max liked to frequent and as Parker followed him out of the car, she patted him on the stomach gently. “This one’s on me.”
“No, I’ve got this,” Michael objected, watching as DeLuca got them a place in line. Money wasn’t exactly coming out of his ears, but her parents paid him a fair wage. He could at least cover his own lunch. Besides, he only needed one taco. He still had the rest of his bagged lunch to finish.
“Come on, really, I’ve got it. Look, I know why Maria wanted to do this, okay? And it was really sweet of you to go along with it, so just let me do this, okay? As a thank you.”
“How come you’re always the one feeding me?” Michael asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at her and caught his first real look at her face that afternoon. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her nose was a little pink, and it looked as though she’d chewed a hole in her lower lip.
She shrugged. “You cook for a living. I figured you might want a break sometimes, you know?”
Shrugging back, he bumped up against her side gently. “I actually kind of like it.”
“Yeah?” she asked, eyeing him curiously.
“Yeah. It’s… I don’t know, kind of like art. Gives me something to do with my head and my hands.”
He could see the thoughts turning over behind her chocolate brown eyes. “Well, I just found out this morning that my Grandma Claudia is coming to visit next week. What do you think about the two of us coming over one night? You wanna cook dinner for me and Grandma?”
Michael paused. Claudia Parker was, without a doubt, his best friend’s favorite person in the world. Was he up for that? What if she thought his cooking sucked?
…What if she didn’t like him as much as she liked DeLuca and Whitman? Or at all?
He could see from the look in Parker’s eyes that this was important to her. She wanted to be able to introduce him to her grandmother when he was in his element. When he was on his home turf. She wanted him to be comfortable.
“Fine. But you’re coming over to help me clean the apartment and stock the fridge this weekend.”
She beamed at him. “You got it.” She glanced away, catching sight of an impatient pixie chick. Where there had once been four other groups or individuals ahead of them in line, there was now only one. “Let’s go before Maria explodes.”
“You’ll tell me about what Troy did later?”
“Oh. I, uh. I figured you would’ve heard from someone already. And Maria didn’t tell you?” she asked in obvious trepidation.
“Nope. Said it wasn’t important.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m gonna find out eventually,” he told her gently. “News travels pretty quickly in the glorified daycare we call a place of higher education.”
Snorting, Parker rolled her eyes at him tolerantly. “It is so not that bad.”
“Some of the kids we go to school with are barely literate.”
“We can’t all understand and appreciate the beauty of James Joyce, alright? Cut them a little slack.”
“Fine. A very little.”
Their spot in line reached the counter, and Parker rattled off their orders, ignoring DeLuca’s, “Liz! This was supposed to be on me!” when their cashier gave Parker their total.
“Don’t worry about it, ‘Ria. You can cover me next time.”
“Fine. I’ll grab some chocolate and our pals Ben and Jerry on the way home from school. We can stick ‘em in the freezer and eat them after our shift.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Look at you, raking in the favors,” Michael joked in an undertone. “Is there anyone in this town who doesn’t owe you something?”
“Mnm. I’m, um, I’m practicing for when I become the head of the mob.”
“Roswell has a mob?”
“Well, no. Not yet. But it will.”
Michael nodded. “Good to know. Can I get a piece of the action, Boss?”
“Oh, yeah,” she nodded back. “There’s always a place for you when you want to join. Fair warning, though. Roswell’s mob is for life. That means you’re stuck with me from now on, or you’ll be sleeping with the fishes.”
“In which body of water would these fishes happen to be?” he asked, glancing around at the miles of desert surrounding the taco stand and stretching beyond the horizon.
She wrinkled her nose as she grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, um. I’ll get back to you on that.”
“You do that.”
The tacos, once they finally came out to their table, were amazing, especially after he drizzled them with Tabasco and honey, which made DeLuca grimace in obvious disgust. That look, along with the tacos, almost made up for being stuck in a car next to her there and back again.
Since they were already about forty minutes late to fourth period, they took the scenic route back to campus, not wanting to linger in the parking lot once they arrived. The plan was to slip into the building through the school library’s emergency exit, since the staff didn’t normally keep an eye on it. Technically, that door should always be secured, but locks were no match for his abilities. Parker would keep her flaky friend distracted and Michael would let them into the building, and then, provided they managed to avoid running into their history teacher for the rest of the school day, they were home free.
Things went smoothly until the three of them exited the library, stepping out into the corridor only to meet Maxwell, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face.
“Maxwell,” Michael greeted, knowing better than to hope that he could get away with simply walking by.
“Where have you been, Michael?”
“Listen, Max,” Parker started, stepping closer to Michael’s brother and putting her hand on his shoulder, “I had a really rough morning, and Michael and Maria were just trying to cheer me up.”
“A rough morning?” Max asked, immediately diverted. Silently, Michael thanked his best friend for taking one for the team. He knew she didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that Troy had done to her.
“Yeah, um, have you heard about what happened in gym?” she asked, her voice unusually meek.
“No, I’m sorry. I went looking for Michael when he didn’t show for fourth period. Why? What happened?”
Swallowing roughly, Parker took a deep breath and then squared her shoulders, holding her head high. “Yesterday, Pam Troy hid my towel while I was in the shower at the end of gym. Which, you know. That’s fine. I mean, it’s not like I was thrilled about it, but it’s not like any of us girls have anything the others haven’t seen, right? But, uh, she must have had a camera with her when I came out of the shower stall, because I found out today that there were copies plastered all over the boys locker room. Kyle Valenti got the guys to take them all down, but, you know. The damage had already been done. About sixty boys have now seen me as naked as the day I was born.” She bit her lip. “There seems to be two prevailing opinions on the whole thing. So far, I’ve been propositioned by, like, five different guys who’ve never spoken to me before, and several of them have, uh, kindly suggested that I start eating more and look into getting implants.”
“I’ll kill them,” Michael said, the words out of his mouth before he even realized his lips were moving.
Big brown eyes darted over to his own, and then Parker stepped swiftly back over to him, grabbing his hands. “Michael, you can’t! Look, this is why I didn’t want to tell you until the day was over. You can’t do anything to them. Pam is the one who is responsible for all of this, and I will deal with her in my own way, okay?”
He fumed, his nostrils flaring and hands shaking with the need to wrap them around the neck of every single bastard who’d dared to kick his best friend while she was down.
But that wasn’t what she wanted. He took a few slow, deep breaths and tried to clear his head. “You’re a minor. Pretty sure what she did was illegal.” Glancing at his brother, he asked, “Think she could get your parents to sue the pants off of Troy if the sheriff’s department won’t do anything about it?”
The odds of that were slim. Not only was Kyle’s father the sheriff, Michael remembered how upset the man had been after the gun went off at the Crashdown and Parker was injured. Sheriff Valenti cared about her, and he probably felt some guilt over being unable to catch the bastard who’d shot her. He wouldn’t take it lightly when he found out that someone else had hurt the girl he’d known since she was in diapers.
“Um, maybe,” Maxwell replied. “I’d have to ask. We’re sure it was Pam Troy who did it?”
DeLuca nodded. “I heard her gloating about it to all her little sycophants. It was definitely her.”
“Okay,” Max muttered. “Okay, do we have any evidence?”
DeLuca nodded again. “Got that part covered, too. I made Valenti hand over some of the photos. They’ve been handled by multiple people now, so it’s not like getting them dusted for prints would really accomplish anything, but if we could track down Troy’s camera and either find the film or the disc the pictures were on, then we could nail her for it.”
“What are the chances the camera is still in her locker? She would’ve had to develop them or print them out somewhere, right? So she probably wouldn’t have brought the camera back here.”
“Unless she used the school’s dark room,” DeLuca said, her face brightening. “Troy is on the yearbook staff. She takes the photos for the puff pieces they stick in there to make different students feel special or accomplished or whatever. How much do you wanna bet that she was dumb enough to use the school equipment that’s in her name?”
Michael’s lips slipped into small, grim smile. “Let’s take a walk, DeLuca.”
“But you’ll be late for fifth period!” Parker objected, looking worried. “You’ve already missed history because of me, okay? You don’t need to be ditching fifth, too.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it, babe. We’ll both just say we were late ‘cause the line for the bathroom was really long. And you know Mrs. Schaefer will believe me, with the amount of times I’ve had to pee during her class. Relax. Go to class with Evans, here.” She shot Max a sharp look. “You get my sweet petunia to class and keep the jackals from descending, you got me?” She gestured to her best friend demonstratively. “This is precious cargo, and I’m entrusting you to see it safely delivered to fifth period.”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll take care of her.” Max looked at Parker. “Come on, Liz. I’ll walk you to class.”
She looked around at the three of them, reluctant. “Guys, really, this is so unnecessary.”
DeLuca held up her hand. “Nu-uh. I don’t wanna hear it, chica. It’s what’s happening. Get to class, okay? Chop, chop. The bell’s about to ring.”
Max offered Parker his arm and she slipped her own through his, still looking as though she was trying to take in the most recent course of events.
At the last minute, as his brother ushered her away, Parker glanced back at Michael and waved with her free hand. “Bye, Michael!”
He nodded. “Later, Elizabeth.” He glanced down at DeLuca. “Alright, then. Let’s get this done. I’ve never been to the dark room before. You know where it is?”
“Yep. I’m actually on the yearbook staff too, so I even have a good excuse for going in if someone’s there when we show up.”
“Guess I’ll follow you, then.”
She studied him out of the corner of her eye as she led him towards the room where students developed their photos. “You really care about her, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Your point?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Just, you know, maybe you’re not as bad as I thought you were.” She was silent for beat and then asked, “Truce? At least until we get this whole thing with Troy sorted out?”
“Yeah, sure,” Michael said. “Why not?”
If it would help Troy get what was coming to her sooner, he was all for it. He might even wind up deciding he liked DeLuca if she kept on being so competent about all of this. She came off as a total flake, but when Parker needed her, DeLuca came through. She’d been like this a month back after the shooting, too. From here on out, Michael would do better to remember that.
They found a student in the Yearbook classroom – a stoner in the year above them skipping class to light up.
“Do you, like, even know how pissed Coach Serio will be if she finds out you were in here smoking so close to all our gear?” DeLuca asked.
Darren Reese shrugged, a dopey grin on his face beneath all those floppy, blonde curls. “What Serio doesn’t know can’t hurt her, right, DeLuca?” he asked as he rose from where he’d crouched by the slightly cracked window.
“Right, so beat it, and we’ll forget we ever saw you, just like you’ll forget you ever saw us, won’t you, Reese?” Michael said, staring the taller boy down, uncaring of the thirty pounds Reese had on him.
Reese held his hands up peaceably. “Hey, man, I don’t even know what you’re talkin’ about. I don’t even know where Yearbook is, and I definitely don’t know any of the lowerclassmen. Or women,” he added, shooting DeLuca a languidly flirty look that really just made him look like a tired, overgrown puppy.
“Damn straight,” Michael nodded, watching as the junior moseyed on out of the classroom. “And, hey, Reese? There’s a janitor’s closet in GHall that never gets used during the day, if you want somewhere to sober up.”
“Dude, thanks,” Reese said, his hazy blue eyes widening in pleasant surprise. “You’re alright, Guerin.”
Michael huffed. “Yeah. You, too, Reese.”
With a wide grin and a lazy bow, Reese backed out of the room. “Later.”
Together, Michael and DeLuca waited until the door closed behind Reese before searching the shelves where the students stored their campus-issued equipment.
“Well, would you look at that?” DeLuca said as she spied Troy’s camera case.
She took the case and then led Michael to the door at the back of the room. She led him inside and hissed like an angry cat.
There, in the dim red lighting, hanging on a line secured by a few clothes and pins, Michael saw a handful of pictures which told Michael far more than he ever wanted or needed to know about his best friend.
He stared for a moment, in that horrified way he’d once gazed at a three-car pileup on the highway after a short road trip with his siblings, and then glanced away, casting about for some gloves or a file folder, or anything else that might better help preserve the evidence.
He spied a box of latex gloves and handed them to DeLuca, still not looking at the images in a vain attempt to protect what little remained of his best friend’s already wrecked privacy, though the pictures had already been seared into his brain. “Here. Get those down. You got any folders or portfolios in here?”
“Um, yeah. First cabinet at the top,” she replied, accepting the box and the instructions without question.
“How are those still in here? Doesn’t Coach Serio ever check on what the Yearbook kids are doing? It’s a dark, secluded room. You’d think she’d put in a little more effort.”
DeLuca scoffed. “Oh, please. All she cares about are her JV and varsity cheerleading squads. This is just something she does to say that she’s got a full schedule, and that she’s actually a teacher here, even though she doesn’t cover any of the core subjects.”
“Nice.”
DeLuca bobbed her head. “Yep. Your hard-earned tax dollars at work.”
“Good to know they’re being put to good use,” he said dryly. “We done here?” he asked after pulling a manila folder out and passing it off to his partner in crime.
She slipped the photos into the folder smoothly. “Now we are. Let’s get out of here before another stoner decides to hide out in the other room.”
Michael tilted his head in sardonic agreement, and they walked casually out of the dark room and from there out of the Yearbook classroom.
“Later, DeLuca.”
“Yeah, see you, Guerin. Say, at the sheriff’s department, right after school?”
“I’ll be there.”
For the rest of the day, Michael made sure to check on his best friend during the passing periods, DeLuca and Maxwell doing the same.
“I feel like I’m having an extreme case of deja vu,” Parker remarked just before seventh period.
“Why’s that?” Michael asked as he glared down an upperclassman who looked like he wanted to say something to his companion.
“Because this is exactly how you and the rest of my friends acted right after the shooting. Michael,” she said, reaching for his wrist. “Stop it, okay? It’s so sweet that you want to look out for me, but I don’t need a bodyguard right now, okay? I just need my best friend. So, can you just walk with me, and be here, in the moment, with me, instead of glaring at everything male that moves?”
“Everything male that moves? As opposed to everything male that doesn’t move?” he asked, quoting a chick flick he’d wound up going to see with Parker a few weeks back. He actually hadn’t hated it.
She flashed a quicksilver grin, obviously gratified that he’d made the connection and that he was willing to play along. “Exactly.”
“Okay, sorry. I’m here, alright?” He cast about for something to talk about that had nothing to do with his best friend’s no good, very bad, horrible day, and finally gave up, settling for, “So, um, what’s up?”
Laughing, she bumped up against his side affectionately. “Oh, my gosh, you suck at small talk. Okay, how about this? What are you planning to make for dinner with Grandma Claudia?”
“Depends. What does she like?”
“Well, she was born and raised in New Mexico, so she loves Mexican food. The spicier the better. Actually, she’ll pretty much go for anything spicy now that I think about it. There’s this little hole-in-the-wall Thai place she takes me to sometimes when we go to Albuquerque, and she always orders their red curry Thai hot. Actually, someday, we’ll have to take you there. I bet you’d love it. And there’s an Indian place there that she likes, too. So, basically, if you make something hot enough that you could eat it and be happy, she’ll be happy.”
“Something spicy, huh?” Michael said, already starting to come up with a few ideas. “Okay. I can work with that.”
“You’re not gonna tell me what you’re gonna do, are you?”
“Nope. Not yet.” They reached the door to their Honors English class and slipped in, both taking seats at the back, not feeling like dealing with the stares and whispers of their peers.
As soon as the final bell rang, Michael walked Parker back to her locker, waited for her to gather her stuff, and then accompanied her on the way to the student parking lot, where DeLuca lounged against the driver’s side door of her mother’s Jetta.
“Later, Guerin.”
He nodded curtly. “Yeah, see ya in a bit.”
He set off for the sheriff’s department, figuring that with DeLuca needing to drop Parker off at home, they should arrive around the same time.
The long walk under the hot afternoon sun gave Michael a little too much time to think about everything that had happened today. He examined his own response to everything and wasn’t happy with what he found.
When he’d said that he would kill the boys who had harassed Parker because of the photos Pam Troy posted, he meant it. In that moment, if he had seen any one of them and known what they had done, he would have lifted his hand and ended their lives. He, who already had blood on his hands and really knew what it meant to kill someone.
Over the past two months, he had come to accept Parker’s way of looking at Hank’s death, or at least he’d stopped arguing with her about it. But if he gave into his baser instincts and killed Troy or any of the boys who hurt his best friend, he would become the monster people always considered his kind to be. He couldn’t afford to do that. He didn’t think he would be able to come back from it if he ever did.
Though the walk seemed long, it also ended long before he expected, so focused on his thoughts as he was.
He reached the front door to the sheriff’s department just as it opened, and blinked in mild surprise as the man he’d come to see stepped out. “Oh, Mr. Guerin. I was just about to head over to the diner for some pie and a cup of coffee. What can I do for you, son?”
Michael took a deep breath, reminding himself that he trusted Valenti, at least as far as he could trust a man in law enforcement. He’d helped Michael when Hank ‘went missing’ and he’d been supportive of Michael’s emancipation, and he loved Liz Parker. “I need to report a crime. Or, at least, I think it’s a crime, and I don’t know if the school will handle it properly.”
Sheriff Valenti’s keen blue eyes studied Michael carefully. “Alright, then. Come on in, and we can talk. And then I can drive you over to the Crashdown. You do have a shift today, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir. But, uh, we’re actually waiting for someone else. She should be here soon.”
“Oh? Is Miss Parker alright?”
“Yes, sir. Well, no, sir. I mean, it’s about her, but she’s not the one who’s coming. You know the DeLuca girl?”
As Valenti began to respond, a loud voice called, “Alright, I’m here; I’ve got all the stuff. Let’s get this show on the road so we can start our shift on time and not freak Liz out any more than she already is,” and the girl in question strode up holding the manila folder and camera bag, an expectant look on her pale, petite face.
“Hi, Miss DeLuca,” Sheriff Valenti greeted, looking mildly concerned and slightly bemused. Michael could sympathize. He usually felt the same way around her. “I hear you have something to tell me?”
“We sure do, Sheriff.”
He held the door open and waved them inside. “Well, come on in. I hope you kids know my door’s always open.”