Everything inside her warned, "Trap." He plans on arresting me, Olivia thought.
He'd seen her drive her CRV around for years, though she'd never given him reason to run her plates. He knew what kind of car had been involved in the accident last week. By now, he'd put two and two together. She'd hoped that this wouldn't happen. In fact, she realized, some corner of her mind was so afraid that she hadn't completely planned for this possibility.
"All right," Olivia said. She needed to draw out details, to buy time to think. "I don't understand. What is this about?"
"Murder."
Whitney had leaned near, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. Olivia waved her back, got up and headed out the door. The kids would have to handle the rest of the auditions.
She reached the rear of the theater. "Is this about something that happened back in Alpine?"
Walton liked to gloat. Now he couldn't help himself. "No, it's something that happened in Saint George, just last Friday. We got an anonymous tip—a picture of the killer, sent with a text message. It's Bron all right."
"I'm sure that this must be some kind of a prank," Olivia said. She decided that she shouldn't say much more. "If Bron is being accused of something, doesn't he have a right to face his accuser? I'd like to know who sent this picture." She could hear radio chatter in the background, and highway noise. She realized that Walton was calling from a car. "Can I speak to Bron?" she asked loudly.
"Not now," Walton said.
"I'll be right down. I forbid you to interrogate Bron before I get there. He's just a minor." Olivia wasn't sure if Walton would be a stickler for the law. Probably not.
In the background Bron yelled. "Olivia! I want a lawyer!"
Walton hung up.
Whitney sat near the front of the stage, her mind a blur. She'd seen the caller ID on Olivia's phone. She'd heard Sheriff Walton mention Bron's name, ask Olivia to come down to the police station. Walton had said something about "murder."
Whitney felt numb.
In her pack this morning, she'd found a little folded note. It said simply: "You smiled at the wrong boy yesterday."
The note wasn't signed, but it was so like Justin. He was so jealous of other guys, and something about him frightened her. In fact, she felt her skin crawl, as she turned around and searched through the darkened theater.
Justin was there, seven rows back, his face twisted in a superior smirk that said, "I told you so."
Whitney leaned back in her chair, bit her lower lip. Whatever was happening with Bron, she felt certain that Justin was behind it.
It was just like her fling with Nathan Sweet last year. He'd taken her down to Crave for some yogurt, and the next day at school, all of his tires got slashed.
Two days later, Officer Walton had pulled the boy over and found some Oxycontin in his car. Nathan hadn't been into drugs, Whitney felt sure. She suspected that Justin had framed him, and the charges stuck. So he'd transferred out of the school.
That day, she'd found a note in her pack that said, "You may give your body to others, but your heart will always belong to me."
Something about the note had chilled her to the bone. It was as if Justin sought to claim her, regardless of her lack of feelings for him.
He was always watching her at school—standing down the hall, sitting at a nearby table at lunch, following her when she went to the restrooms.
It wasn't stalking, exactly. At least, when she'd told the police what was happening, they said that there was nothing that they could do legally. But it was creepy.
I should have warned Bron, Whitney thought.
Walton glared at Bron as they sped down the highway. "Shut your mouth back there!"
"I want to talk to Olivia!" Bron said. "I heard her ask to talk to me."
Walton considered, then said, "You'll get that chance." He drove while he peered into the cage in the back of the car.
Bron resisted the impulse to shout "Deer!" just to force the sheriff to watch the road, but Walton didn't seem to have a sense of humor.
Bron felt a tingling in his hands. His sizraels had begun to extend. He panicked.
Sweat broke on his brow, and his throat went dry. He tried to steady his breathing.
Nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad will happen, he told himself. He knew that it was a lie. Terrible things were about to happen.
Olivia shoved her cell phone in her pocket, hitting the school doors at a run. It was full dark, and music played in the outdoor theater. The stage lights, reflecting from the rock walls of the canyon, gave the sky a surreal, bloody glow. The air smelled of popcorn. Strings of orange lights outside the theater reminded Olivia of pumpkins and Halloween.
Every muscle in her body tensed. She walked in the dark, wanting to run, but she didn't want to call attention to herself or risk twisting an ankle in the dark. An instant later her phone vibrated. She looked at the caller ID. It was the Mercers. She answered.
Galadriel's voice was hysterical. "Uh, is this Olivia—Mrs. Hernandez, I mean?"
"Hello, Galadriel," Olivia said.
Galadriel began to sob. "Bron's been arrested!" She kept talking, trying to explain, but fell to blubbering. Olivia couldn't understand her.
"I know," Olivia said. "It's all right. I'm sure that it's a misunderstanding."
"Really?" Galadriel asked, suddenly coherent.
"Yes, really," Olivia said.
"How did you find out so fast?" Galadriel sniffed. "I mean, he was just taken in, not ten minutes ago."
That confirmed Olivia's suspicion. Walton was so eager to smirk, he hadn't even taken the time to get Bron into booking.
"Officer Walton called me," Olivia said.
Olivia was in real trouble she knew. The Draghouls would soon be on her trail. Her whole world could come crashing down. There was only a slim chance to save it.
Galadriel began sobbing again, and Olivia asked, "Galadriel, have you told your mother yet?"
"Yes."
That was a nuisance.
"Can you do me a huge favor? Can you promise me not to talk to anyone else about this? Not anyone. I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding, but if news gets out, it could really hurt Bron's reputation. We wouldn't want to do that to him, would we?"
Galadriel hesitated. Olivia knew what she was thinking. She'd want emotional support. She'd want to gossip with her Mends. Olivia was asking her to resist that impulse.
When Galadriel didn't answer, Olivia took a risk, asked, "Do you love Bron?"
"What?" the question caught Galadriel off-guard.
"Do you love him?" Olivia said simply.
The question was premature, of course. They hardly knew each other. But Olivia understood how powerful a teenage crush could hit a girl. Besides, "love" could mean just about anything. Galadriel could love him as a friend, as a human.
"Yeah, I really do," Galadriel said. She couldn't resist the impulse to be a little dramatic.
"Then do this for him: Don't tell a soul what has happened. I'm sure that this will be cleared up by morning."
"Okay...." Galadriel sniffled.
Olivia sighed in relief and thanked her profusely as she hung up. She reached her pickup, fumbled with the keys, hands shaking.
Walton hadn't been able to resist calling Olivia as soon as he took Bron in custody. That might work in my favor, she thought.
It was only a matter of time before Draghouls learned of the arrest. The more advance notice Olivia got, the better chance she had of breaking Bron out of jail, cleaning up this mess.
The Draghouls wouldn't need to rely upon such outmoded media as the local newspaper to find out about Bron's capture. They had access to their own spy network. She wasn't sure what their capabilities might be.