Mason’s always been more reasonable and laid back than I am, but not anymore. After I finish telling them about Bowen, he leans back on the tailgate of his truck and empties his beer in one gulp, that same pensive look on his face, which tells me he’s already thinking of fun ways to fuck with Bowen, and I know he won’t let me down.
The first few times, we start out more subtle; showing up wherever Bowen is, watching him from a distance, and making sure he knows it. But, tonight, we all have an itch to scratch.
“You don’t have to talk to the police, no matter what they say,” Aiden pushes an oversized furry, white rabbit head over his face, “if you’re not under arrest, get up and leave. And if you are, say you want a lawyer and shut your mouth.” He would know, he was the last one of us to see the inside of an interrogation room at the Canaan Police Department.
Wells Rhinehardt showed up at the Raffertys’ doorstep the night after Evie’s funeral and took Aiden in to be questioned—for murder. It’s not the first time Wells has showed up just to be a pain in the ass, but after what happened between Jay, Sydney, Hildy, and Aiden before Evie’s murder, Wells has been trying to nail him for something and probably hoping for a promotion out of it.
“Did something happen with Evie’s hair?” Aiden asks me the next time I see him.
“Why?” I ask, acutely aware that nobody except the police and a few select family members know the gruesome details of her death.
“Because they kept asking me about it, implying that I should know—like I did something to it. Probably because of Syd…” A smarmy grin creeps over Aiden’s face as he silently recalls his last encounter with Jay Rhinehardt.
Bowen knows what happened to Jay…to Sydney…and then to Hildy…
“It’d be pretty convenient for Bowen if he made it look like you butchered Evie’s hair before killing her,” I hold Aiden’s gaze, confirming his assumption without saying it.
“I’ll get them, one day,” he nods to himself, “I’ll get all of them. Every last one of them.”
And I believe him.
After jamming his head into his furry rabbit mask, Aiden turns to us with a shimmy, making his ears wag back and forth. On any other night, he’d look ridiculous, but given the circumstances, he looks downright deranged. Which is great, because tonight, we’re ratcheting up our game.
It’s Dire Ridge’s prom night, but we have other plans. We’re driving around, packed into Mason’s old Chevy Avalanche, except all of us look like we’re on our way to a horror movie convention. Half of us wear neck gaiters or balaclavas with black hoodies, but there’s a hockey mask, a Michael Myers, a Purge mask, and Aiden’s tall, lanky ass in his rabbit head. It’s a balmy evening, but the wind whipping around us keeps the sweat at bay.
We’ve already hit up two places, searching for Bowen, when Mason stops for gas. Rory and Josh almost get wasted by Al, who owns the Sunoco in Hellbranch, when they forget to take off their masks and he pulls a shotgun on them as soon as they walk through the door. But they want beer, and Al is notorious in three counties for selling to minors, so he gets over it pretty quickly.
Alex has been on his phone all night, distracted and texting a goddamn novel while sitting in the bed of the pickup.
This time, when he pulls out his phone, I glance over his shoulder, “Who the hell have you been talking to?”
He flinches, startling me in the process, and then turns it face down, “Uh, um…” he stammers, messing with his disheveled black hair. After a moment, he looks at me awkwardly, “Dallas.”
“Dallas?” I blurt out. “Since when do you talk to her?”
Alex shifts uncomfortably, swinging the strap of his Purge mask around his finger, “I saw her at lunch one day and she was really upset, so I started talking to her and she mentioned that she games, and I told her so do I, and then she asked if I wanted to play sometime. So, we started gaming together.”
“Gaming?” I arch my brow, “You’ve been gaming with Dallas?” I’m intrigued, “What do you play?”
“We started out playing Destiny and Dark Souls,” Alex hesitates for a moment, “now, it’s mostly just Tomb Raider,” he says flatly.
I furrow my brow in confusion, “Do they even have multiplayer for that anymore?”
“Not really,” he mutters, “Dallas just does single player. She likes the old games anyway.”
“So, then how do you play together?”
Alex just looks at me with the same uncomfortable look, leaning away slightly like he’s trying to avoid a rattlesnake.
“Wait,” I narrow my eyes, “you watch her play it?”
“It’s her favorite,” his eyes widen as he tries to justify himself, “and she’s really good!”
“I bet she is,” I say with a roll of my eyes, “do you have to ask for a turn?” I laugh, but then stop short. “But where?” I squint in confusion, “I don’t see you at my house.”
Alex tries to maintain eye contact, but they keep darting away.
I clench my jaw as the realization hits, “Your house?” I growl, “You live with your brothers! How the fuck does she get there, Alex? She can’t even drive, she’s only fifteen!” I’m about two seconds from lunging for his throat.
Aiden and Mason glance over from the pump, drawn to the commotion.
Alex is on the brink of panic, “No, dude, it’s not even like that!”
“Then why don’t you tell me what it is like?” I glower at him.
“She’s never been to my house, I swear!” he confesses with an exasperated huff, “I’ve only seen her at your house. Seriously, you just don’t know about it.”
I peer at him from the shadow of my hoodie, “So, you sneak into my house just to sit in Dallas’s room and watch her play Tomb Raider?”
Alex shrugs, “Yeah.”
“And that’s it?” I clarify with an edge in my voice.
“Yeah.”
This is too weird, even for me. “Why?” I ask with genuine curiosity.
Alex’s face softens when he realizes I’m not about to beat him senseless, “It makes her feel better. She says everyone acts weird around her now, even her friends. Like they’re afraid to talk to her.”
