- AHMED -

"This is 9-1-1. What's your emergency?"

Steven was shaking when he answered. "I just—I f-found someone on a...on a fence. She's...really beat up. It's—we're um...we're by the Exxon next to Garrett Loop. Please...hurry. I don't know how much longer she'll make it."

It seemed like only seconds before the piercing sirens began screaming in the distance, their cries accompanied by flashing red lights.

I was still about twenty feet away from Steven and Shelby. I'd come running when I heard Steven scream, but I'd stopped in my tracks after spotting Shelby's body suspended from the fence separating the grass and asphalt of the adjoining freeway.

And I hadn't been able to move. I'd stood frozen, immobile, as I heard ambulance sirens screech louder and louder, as tires whirred fretfully against the gravel beneath them before thick boots crunched tiny rocks underfoot, dashing forward and surrounding Steven. He stepped out of their way and started shaking again.

Finally, I gathered the strength to walk over to where he was, mere yards from the first responders, who were slowly raising a set of wire cutters to clip both sides of the metal protruding from Shelby's legs.

"Careful," I heard one of them say. "Six inches on each side, boys. Keep the legs supported and watch for tissue damage."

I looked away as the first clip was made, the sound of metal slicing metal ringing out as I turned. I winced, then glanced at Steven for the first time.

"You okay?" I asked him, then winced again as I heard another clip of metal.

His gaze was in the asphalt, but he nodded slowly. "I'm fine," he managed, then lifted his eyes slightly. "So...what do we do now?"

Another screeching slice.

"I was—I was just about to ask you the same thing." I lowered my head. "I...I guess we go home?"

He sighed. "I can't, Ahmed."

I furrowed both brows. "Why not?"

"I've gotta..." he trailed off. "There's just—there's something I gotta do. At the hospital."

"Um, okay..."

"Let's follow the first responders when they take Shelby," he offered. "After we make sure she gets there safely, I'll drop you off at home. Or...or I can just take you home now, I guess."

Why does he wanna go to the hospital so bad? "Uh, no, that's okay," I finally answered back. "I'll go with you to the hospital. Might as well see this through, right?"

It was another ten minutes before the medics managed to safely lower Shelby from the fence and place her on the stretcher, rolling to the ambulance and shutting her inside.

The ride to the hospital was a quick one. Every traffic light always seems perpetually green late at night, and this night was no exception. Steven kept close behind the ambulance, so close that there were a few times I thought we might ram it from behind.

When we finally pulled into the main hospital entrance, the ambulance veered to the left, while Steven and I cut to the right to find parking.

The frontmost hospital door was a few hundred feet away from where we parked; and after we climbed out of Steven's truck, we darted to the entrance in seconds, passing through the set of glass double doors as they slid apart to welcome us inside.

****

The waiting area was cold, perhaps a side effect of the automatic door periodically letting in crisp breezes of late-night air a few feet from the mahogany chairs where Steven and I sat. Twin bouquets of cream-colored flowers sat on opposite sides of the door, as if to welcome outsiders rushing feverishly through the sliding glass in hopes of checking in or visiting their loved ones.

I'd been stealing glances at the front desk every so often, mostly trying to keep track of the time on the tiny blue-and-yellow digital clock stationed next to the receptionist.

Steven had been awake for the past twenty minutes or so, but now he was dozing in the chair to my left; I opted to check the time again.

12:49 a.m.

I sighed. I couldn't believe it was getting so late; but at the same time, it almost felt like it should have been later. It seemed an eternity since I'd visited Dylan after leaving Irina at my house. An eternity since I'd traveled to Molding the Way, visited GiGi.

An eternity since a certain someone had come knocking at my door that very same morning.

"She's stable," came a soft and feminine voice.

I blinked twice as I was jerked unceremoniously back to reality, away from my thoughts. Blinking twice, I glanced upward, lifting my head.

It was a nurse whose eyes met me, staring over a clear plastic clipboard with a pen attached.

"Uh, w-what?" I stuttered.

"Shelby Bark," the nurse said. "I thought you and your friend might like to know. The doctor says she's stable."

"Oh," I breathed. "Can we see her?" I had a million questions for Shelby, starting with why the heck she and Landon were smooching in the parking lot of some run-down gas station.

The nurse shook her head. "Afraid not. Her boyfriend just arrived, and he's insisting that there be no visitors."

"Her boyfriend?" I paused as Steven rustled next to me, his eyes peeking groggily open.

"...What's going on? What'd I miss?" Steven's voice dragged.

"Shelby's stable," I said. "But Landon asked for no visitors."

"What? Why?"

"I—I don't know," I mumbled, then glanced up at the nurse again.

"We called the ambulance! Shouldn't we at least get to see her?" Steven asked in protest. "I mean, I for one have a ton of questions..."

"And so do the police," the nurse interjected. "Landon called them once Shelby stabilized. And until they get here, he doesn't want her having any visitors. I'm terribly sorry, boys." She secured her clipboard under her right arm, then turned daintily and trotted away.

Steven huffed and turned to me. "Is this a freaking joke? We saved her life!"

For once, I agree with you, Steven. I drew a heavy breath. "Maybe that's our cue to leave, then," I mused.

His eyes darted away, focused in on the hallway behind the reception desk.

I paused. "Steven, what's wrong?"

He gulped. "I just—I'll be right back." He stood to his feet and sidled over to the guy sitting at the desk, mumbled something I couldn't make out.

Is he asking to see Shelby?

I thought surely the man would turn him away; but by some miracle, the guy stretched out his arm to let Steven pass the desk and roam down the patient hallway.

Huh?

I must have sat there, mouth agape and looking like an idiot, for at least a full minute before Steven power-walked back out of that hallway with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Let's go," he barked as he breezed past me, speeding for the entrance.

"O-okay," I sputtered, scrambling to my feet as he zoomed through the glass doors.

The screech of the wind zipped between the metal frames as I clambered after him.

"Steven, wait up!" I called in my rush to exit the building, pressing a hand against the glass's iron edges for support before ambling through the automatic door.

I hurried across the parking lot, running to catch up amid the frosty howl of the night air. The sound of police sirens echoing faintly in the distance, Steven had already begun whirring the engine by the time I made it to his Chevy.

I slid inside and buckled my seatbelt, then shut the door. "Dude, what was that?"

"We gotta go." He checked the rear-view mirror, then smashed the gear shift into reverse and slammed the accelerator with his right foot.

"Wh—what?"

The car jerked backward, my head slamming into the cushioned chair of the passenger's seat.

Steven grappled with the gear shift again, this time shoving it to drive. Tires screeched; paved rocks crumbled; lights and doors and hospital scenery appeared at once to fly past the windows of the car—even the wind's slow and methodic agitation of the surrounding trees seemed to pick up its pace.

"Dude, Steven, what the heck!?" I turned to stare through the back window, where the hospital and its lot grew exponentially smaller every second we sped further down the highway.

He didn't say a word, just kept his eyes focused on the road ahead.

"Can you just slow down and tell me what's going on?" I was trying to sound assertive, but my question came out sounding more like a plea for mercy. "What happened in there?"

His eyes darted in my direction for a moment. "I...we need to go back to Marissa's house."

"What!?"

"We still have that file, the whole file—the one we got from Shelby's car."

"Yeah, so?"

"Ahmed, that file proves she was with Lane; she might've even killed her. I mean, you saw all that blood, right? If she refuses to tell us the truth, we threaten to go straight to the cops."

I paused, nodding. "Yeah, okay. That sounds like a plan, but..."

Steven looked at me. "But what, dude?"

"Did you go see Shelby?" I queried. "Is that what happened? Did Landon scare you off, or—"

"It wasn't Shelby."

I hesitated. "...Then who?"

He sighed. "Dylan." His shoulders slumped forward, gaze dropping. "I didn't...I didn't wanna leave without making sure he was okay."

Hold on. What? "Then why'd you fly outta there like a maniac?" The question came out a lot harsher than I'd intended.

Steven gulped, quivered briefly. "I chickened out," his voice cracked as he spoke. "I made it to his room, and I just—I couldn't go in." He gulped. "I stood outside for a few seconds, and then his door creaked open. And...and I ran."

"Oh." I lowered my head.

Steven exhaled. "Anyway," his words scraped out in a craggy wisp, "if Landon won't let us get the truth out of Shelby, then Marissa's our only option."

I nodded again, more firmly this time. "You're right. She has to tell us something."

The rest of the drive to Marissa's home on Garrett Loop wasn't long. A steady succession of green lights coupled with the overwhelming scarcity of vehicles on the road this late at night made the trip a quick one. It felt like only seconds after departing from the hospital, Steven was pulling into the complex. He cut the headlights as we drove up to Apartment 20-A, and the two of us stepped out once he'd parked squarely between the dull yellow lines painted on the pavement.

I was shivering in my seat when Steven turned to me. "Here goes everything." He reached into the back to grab Lane's file, then stepped out and trekked up the sidewalk.

I climbed from the car and followed, every inch of my body trembling.

"Marissa!?" Steven called, then began knocking. "Marissa, open up! It's Steven and Ahm—"

The door flew wide open. "What is the meaning of this!?" Marissa had shed her high-heeled shoes but still towered over the two of us, glaring down through emerald eyes burning with rage. "I thought I told you never to come here again!"

Steven held up Lane's file, this time with the first image of Marissa as the topmost sheet.

Her eyes ballooned. "Where did you get that!?" She reached out her right arm in one swift motion to grab the photo, but Steven whipped it away with lightning speed.

"Hands off, lady," he spat, folding the file and accompanying pictures to unceremoniously stuff them in his pocket. "Now this is how things are going down: You're gonna tell us everything, and I mean everything. And you'd better be convincing. If I don't believe you, I'm going straight to the cops, and I'm telling them I have proof that you killed this girl."

She crossed her arms. "There are worse things than prison. And you'll need a lot more than one picture to secure a conviction."

"You're right." Steven smirked. "I guess it's a good thing that I have a lot more than one picture. I have a confession."

Marissa's eyes narrowed. "A confession?" she asked incredulously. "And just how did you manage to—"

"Shelby Bark was attacked tonight," Steven cut in. "And she said she saw the person who did it—she could never forget those vicious green eyes and that bright ginger hair."

I could tell Steven was lying, but I kept quiet and stood resolutely behind him.

Marissa's face surged red with anger. "That's impossible! I haven't left the house all night!"

"Maybe you have, and maybe you haven't," Steven shot back. "Either way, I'm guessing you can imagine how this's gonna look. Some crazy person's running around town killing people, the only living victim says you tried to ice her, and then this picture of you surfaces where you're raping some grade-schooler in a—"

"I DIDN'T RAPE HER!" Marissa screamed.

"Then what did you do?" Steven pressed, moving in closer. He placed his hand on the doorpost just inches from Marissa's shoulder.

She gritted her teeth. "I was cleaning her."

"Yeah, right," Steven spat.

"It's the truth!"

"Then how do you explain all the blood?"

"She was already bleeding by the time I got there."

"No," Steven shook his head. "You're lying."

"I'm not lying, you idiot!"

"Why was she bleeding?" I interjected. "And where on earth did you find that disgusting tub?"

"Why do you think she was bleeding!?" Marissa barked, her voice finding a sarcastic edge. "It wasn't just puberty—I promise you that." She bowed her head, shaking it from left to right. "But you really shouldn't be asking about Lane. She wasn't the first. If you want the truth, you need to know what happened to Ruby."

"Hold on," I spoke up. "Ruby? As in Ruby Densett?"

She nodded. "Yes, that was her. Everyone in EdgeWay thought she went missing. But precious few knew the truth. Glenn had made a mistake, and Ruby'd seen his face." Marissa's eyes narrowed grimly. "So they had to kill her."