What Lies in the Darkness (Shadow Cove Book 1) Read online

  “Please don’t think of something that’s going to get us into too much trouble,” Ev pleads with her hands clasped. “The last time you came up with a revenge plan, I ended up grounded for three weeks.”

  “All the best revenge plans require getting into trouble.” Kennedy sips her soda with her thinking face on. “I need to dig up some dirt on him. Maybe take a look at his school records, see what he’s got going on … Oh!” Excitement bursts through her. “We could run a background check on him, his dad, his mom—anyone he knows—and see if the Jennings are hiding anything. Then we could plaster the evidence all over the town. Can you imagine a family like the Jennings having to endure the shit you have, Mak?”

  A small smile tugs at my lips. “I think I might like the sound of that.”

  Ev apprehensively shakes her head. “I’m not doing anything illegal this time.”

  Kennedy juts out her lip. “Come on, Ev. What’s the point of being a computer genius if you don’t use your power for the greater good?”

  “Hacking into people’s personal records isn’t for the greater good,” she protests. “And do you know how much trouble I’d get in if I got caught?”

  “Oh, fine.” Kennedy’s pout deepens. “I guess I’ll have to think of something else equally as awesome.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Kennedy throws out her ideas, ranging from getting dirt on Dixon from his ex-girlfriends to changing his grades from As to Fs, all of which Ev says nope to. By the time I park my car in front of her house, she hasn’t come up with a solid plan, but pinkie promises she’ll think of something before skipping up to her front door.

  “I think she enjoys this revenge stuff a little too much,” Ev says as I back out of the driveway and onto the main road.

  “Perhaps.” I steer the car back toward the main section of town to drop off Embry next. “But I kind of love her for it.”

  “Me, too,” Embry agrees, propping her knees against the seat back. “You can always count on her to have your back. You don’t find that very often, you know. A lot of people will bail out on you when things get ugly.”

  I offer Embry a sympathetic smile, knowing where her thoughts are heading. Back before the three of us became friends, Embry was picked on a lot for the old, outdated clothes she wore. One day on the playground, Kennedy screamed at all the other kids for being assholes—she had a very colorful vocabulary in grade school. That was enough to scare the shit out of most of the people, and for a while, everyone backed off.

  Then, when Embry went Goth in middle school, the ridicule started up again. By then, though, Embry had gotten into martial arts, and after getting into a fight with one of the popular girls, the entire school was scared shitless once again and backed the fuck off. Of course, the popular girl went home and lied to her dad about who started the fight, and Embry ended up getting suspended from school because of it. She’s been more careful since then about throwing her fists around. Still, it’s always nice to know that, if a fight ever broke out, she could kick some serious ass.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’ve dropped off Embry and am pulling up to Ev’s house. She gives me a look of sympathy and a pity hug, as if this is the last time she’ll ever see me. It might be, depending on how angry my mom is when I get home.

  “Facetime me tonight if you can,” Ev says as we idle in front of her house. “And let me know what’s going on. I’ve never seen your mom so upset.”

  “I have. Twice.” I grip the living daylights out of the steering wheel. “And those were some really, really bad times.”

  “I’m sure she was just worried when you didn’t answer your phone,” Ev insists, although she looks pretty worried, too. She collects her laptop from the floorboard then opens the door to get out. “My dad sometimes gets weird about stuff like that, too.”

  I force a smile, and she frowns.

  “No fake smiles,” she says. “We talked about this, and you promised me you were going to stop.”

  My plastic smile turns into a bummer frown. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I just … I don’t know. I’m really worried. I mean, she’s upset a lot and everything, but she hasn’t acted this irrationally since my dad took off.”

  She hugs the computer to her chest as she lowers her head into the car and offers me a hopeful smile. “Maybe she’s upset because she heard from him.”

  “Maybe,” I say, not really believing my words.

  The truth is, I often wonder if the next time I see or hear about my dad will be when his body shows up somewhere. It’s a morbid thought, but for all I know, my dad’s body could be stuck at the bottom of the lake, secured down by chains and bricks.

  Sighing, I wave good-bye to Ev then back onto the road. I spend most of the drive lost in my thoughts, only snapping out of my daze when I pull up to my house and spot a shadowy figure standing on the front porch that’s smothered by darkness. I instinctively tap the brake as a drop of fear laces through me.

  As the car slams to a sudden stop, I nearly bash my head on the steering wheel. Thankfully, I manage not to crack my head open and hastily blink at the house. Just like when I thought I saw Sawyer, the shadowy figure has vanished, leaving me wondering if I really saw anything to begin with. Maybe I’m just hallucinating from the stress, something that happened both after Sawyer died and my father disappeared. I had to go on meds for a while, but the side effects made me tired all the time, so I stopped taking them despite the doctor’s orders.

  “God, I hated taking those pills,” I mutter to myself.

  After I calm down, I park the car in the driveway, deciding to keep the hallucinations a secret for now. I don’t want to spend my days doped up again. Besides, I’m sure seeing the police cars is probably what triggered it. Hopefully, I’ll feel better by tomorrow. I just hope things don’t get out of hand like the last time when I had trouble distinguishing between what’s real and what’s not.

  LOCATION: MAK’S HOUSE

  TIME: 9:54 PM

  DATE: SATURDAY, MARCH 20TH

  I take several breaths to prepare myself before opening the door to my house, feeling super nervous about talking to my mom. Most of the lights are off, and the soundlessness makes me question—okay, makes me naively hope—that perhaps my mom had to return to work.

  “In the kitchen!” she shouts, crushing my hope into smithereens.

  I set down my skateboard and bag then enter the kitchen where my mom is sitting at the corner table with her reading glasses on and bills scattered out in front of her.

  “So, would you like to explain to me why you think you’re old enough to have sex?” she asks without looking up.

  Dammit, I was hoping she’d skip over that and talk about why she was so upset at the skate park.

  I slump down in the chair across from her. “I didn’t sleep with Dixon, Mom.”

  She sifts through a thin stack of papers. “Then why does he seem to think you did?”

  “He doesn’t.” I blow out a frustrated exhale. “Dixon Jennings is just an asshole who gets his kicks and giggles from making my life a living hell.”

  She peers up at me. “Dixon Jennings? As in, the Jennings who own every dealership in Shadow Cove?”

  “Yeah, that would be the one,” I say with as much disdain as possible. “Why?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing.” She sets the bills aside and gives me her undivided attention. “It’s just that, if you were dating a guy like him, I’d be okay with it.”

  “By ‘guy like him,’ do you mean a sexist, rich, spoiled brat? Because that’s what he is.”

  “I’m sure he’s not that bad. And he seems to like you.”

  I eye her over suspiciously. “Are you drunk?”

  “No.” She tosses a stack of envelopes down onto the table and removes her glasses. “I just know that sometimes, when a guy likes a girl, he teases. Just like Dixon did to you.”

  “You mean, when he practically told everyone I was sleeping with him when I’m not? Or when he insulted dad and Sawyer?�
� I resist an eye roll. “Yeah, sounds like he likes me a whole freakin’ bunch.”

  A frown forms on her lips. “He insulted Sawyer?”

  I do my best to ignore her lack of interest in my dad, reminding myself that to her, he abandoned us. “He always does. And he insults you, too.”

  Her face scrunches as if she just swallowed something sour. “What exactly did he say?”

  “I’d rather not tell you.”

  “Mak, just tell me. I’m a grown woman. I can handle it.”

  Reluctantly, I give her a recap of what Dixon said. I expect her to get angry, but when I’m finished telling the story, she simply thrums her fingers against the table, seeming lost in thought.

  “Well, I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” she finally says. “And I’m sure his father never told him that. Don is a wonderful man. I’m sure he wouldn’t spread rumors about me.”

  Yeah, right. Dixon’s dad is more of a sexist douche than his son, something he proved when he ran for mayor and declared that women belonged at home and should spend their time supporting their husbands. Needless to say, he didn’t win, but people still buy cars from his dealerships.

  I shake my head. “Dixon’s dad is a jerk, and you know it. Remember when he ran for mayor?”

  She stacks the bills evenly and sets them aside. “Don is the only reason we still have a roof over our heads.”

  I blink at her. “What are you talking about?”

  She rises to her feet. “Nothing. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

  I swiftly scoot the chair back from the table, causing the legs to grind noisily against the chipped linoleum floor. “No way. You can’t just drop something like that on me and then walk away.”

  “I can do whatever I want, Makayla.” She uses my full name as a warning that I’m about to push one too many of her buttons. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a shower and get to bed. I’m working the morning shift and part of the evening shift tomorrow.” She sighs. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  A thousand questions burn at the tip of my tongue, but pushing my mom for information will only cause her to shut down more. So, I keep my trap shut, but that doesn’t mean I’m dropping the subject. I’ll just wait until she gets into the shower before snooping around.

  She pauses in the doorway and turns back around. “Oh, about what happened earlier at the skate park.” Her tone softens slightly. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just that a girl was brought in who was pronounced dead on arrival. I heard the call come in over the radio, and they didn’t have her name yet, but her description fit you, so I sort of panicked. When I tried to call you, and your phone went to voicemail, I nearly lost it.”

  All of my irritation toward her melts in an instant. If I were in the same position, I probably would’ve lost it, too. Hell, I barely kept it together when I saw police vehicles driving toward the lake.

  “I’m so sorry.” I cross the room toward her. “I didn’t mean to let the battery go dead. Ev and I were working on a project for most of the day, and charging it kind of slipped my mind.”

  She wraps her arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. “Just try to keep it charged from now on. I worry about you.”

  I bob my head up and down, hugging her back. “I know you do, and I promise, from now on, I’ll try my hardest to keep my phone charged at all times.”

  She steps back, her eyes a bit misty. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, too.”

  A small smile touches my lips. “Well, I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.”

  “Good.” She smooths my hair out of my eyes like she did when I was a little kid then gives me a strange look. “You’ve been feeling okay, though, right? I know it’s been a while since you stopped taking your medication. I just want to make sure you’re doing okay without it.”

  Crap, it’s like she knows what happened today.

  I nod, trying to remain calm. “I’m feeling really great, actually.”

  “Good.” A hint of wariness floods her eyes before she turns to leave the room.

  “Wait, Mom,” I say, and she pauses. “What happened to the girl? I mean, how did she die?”

  She doesn’t turn around, but her back stiffens. “I’m not sure … Her body … was found in the lake.”

  “The lake?” I whisper. “Shadow Cove Lake?”

  “I’m sure it was just an accident. Nothing we need to worry about. Nothing you need to worry about,” she adds. “Now, I’m going to go take a shower. Don’t stay up too late, okay? I want you to get a full night’s rest.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer before hurrying into her room and shutting the door.

  It’s a suspicious move that leaves me wondering if she’s lying.

  LOCATION: THE SECRET SPOT IN MAK’S DAD’S OFFICE

  TIME: 11:54 PM

  DATE: SATURDAY, MARCH 20TH

  There’s a small nook hidden behind a bookcase in my dad’s office that no one knows exists except for me and my dad. This makes for the perfect spot to do some snooping around in my mom’s computer files and emails to find out why the hell she thinks Don Jennings is the reason we’re not homeless.

  The problem is, she recently changed her password. Usually, hers are ridiculously easy to crack. She’s super fond of birthdays, last names, anniversaries, etc. But apparently, she’s upped her A-game. After an hour of punching in every important number and name I can think of, I’m still locked out.

  “All right, Mom, what are you hiding?” I prop my feet up against the wall in front of me, racking my brain for another route, another important date I may have missed, or the name of someone important to her.

  I don’t know why I do it, what the heck comes over me, other than I can’t stop thinking about my mom’s odd behavior earlier, but I end up typing “Don Jennings” into the password box. When the password is accepted, allowing me onto the home screen, my stomach goes kerplunk, and a little bit of puke burns in my throat.

  “Oh, my God, is my mom having an affair with …?” I nearly gag on the name.

  No! There’s no way she’d ever do that. Not when my dad has only been gone for six months. Not with the biggest douchebag in town. There has to be another reason his name is the password. Could it be because he saved us from being homeless? How did he do that, exactly? And why? What would be his ulterior motive? A guy like Don Jennings wouldn’t do something out of the kindness of his heart.

  Clearing my throat several times, I compose myself and get to work. I start by raiding her bill files first and checking our monthly estimated bills Excel reports. Nothing seems different there, so I move on to her monthly bank statement. The last four months look kind of normal, except that her paychecks from the hospital seem a little bit low. Maybe she got a pay cut, or started working less hour. That doesn’t explain why she’s been gone the same amount of time as she always does. And besides, we haven’t been making less money. My confusion only deepens when I get to a deposit made five months ago.

  “Holy jackpot.” I squint at the hefty cash deposit made back in November, about a month after my dad took off. “Ten thousand dollars! What the fuck!” The words leave my mouth way too loudly, and I quickly slap my hand over my mouth. I listen for signs that I’ve alerted my mom, but the house remains quiet.

  Lowering my hand, I scroll through the transactions, wondering where the money went. Half of it went toward the next few months of rent, and then I get a bad taste in my mouth when I see a high amount was spent at Mayfield Luxury Hotel and Spa. I don’t remember her taking off to Mayfield on that weekend. In fact, she supposedly works back-to-back shifts and is usually gone so much I don’t see her for days on end. Apparently, she snuck off on a vacation, though, which I’d be completely fine with—she works her butt off and deserves a vacation—but why do I get the feeling she took the vacation with the person who gave her the money?

  No! Stop thinking that, Mak! Your mom isn’t shacking up with Don Jennings!

  Still, I can’t help
thinking about it. A lot. And a thought crosses my mind, not about Don, but about Dixon. He’s always disliked me, but lately, he’s acted extra douchey. What if it’s because he knows about the affair?

  “Ugh.” I grimace, feeling disgusted and beaten down.

  After searching through the rest of the files and finding nothing else that seems suspicious, I move on to her emails, finding she’s currently deleted most of the messages in her inbox and sent files. Does she know I snoop around? She has busted me a time or two before.

  Giving up for the night, I set the computer aside and turn toward the far back wall to a few newspaper clippings tacked up, along with a handful of Post-it Notes covered in my dad’s messy handwriting. The notes are random dates and times, and the newspaper clippings are help wanted ads for a gardener, a dog walker, and a housekeeper. If my dad didn’t love his job, I’d think he was job searching. But he loved being a reporter as much as I love skateboarding. And besides, I saw the wall before he disappeared. There were so many sticky notes and torn sections of newspapers that the tan paint wasn’t even visible. What compelled him to take some down and leave some up is beyond me. I have a hunch they carry some sort of importance because of something my dad said to me right before he flew off the radar.

  “Mak, if something ever happens to me, just follow the trail, okay?” he said to me in a panic. “Just be careful. Don’t let them find out you’re on to them. I think that’s what happened to your brother.”

  By that point, my mom had started calling him crazy, and I overheard her talking to one of her friends on the phone about sending him to the Shadow Cove’s Treatment Facility. I worried that she might be right, but I didn’t have the heart to say anything to my dad. I just nodded and agreed to follow this alleged trail.

  About a month after he disappeared, I wandered into the hidden nook and spent hours staring at the notes and clippings, attempting to make sense of them. Then, one day, it dawned on me. My dad used to refer to his research as a trail to his article. He’d put most of the research on this wall. So, what if the leftover research on this wall is the trail?