- AHMED -

It was cold outside, the frigid and unforgiving breeze whipping against my face while I hugged my body with both arms. I noted a light throbbing behind my eyes as I glanced to the right, where Steven was talking to a fireman dressed in a brown uniform streaked with neon reflectors.

"Sure is one heck of a night you boys've had," I heard the man say to Steven.

I turned back to the apartment, sniffed some of the smoke as it escaped through the front door. A set of four more firemen stood on the sidewalk, spraying pressurized water inside to douse the remainder of the flames.

"I'm just glad you guys made it here when you did," I faintly heard Steven's reply. "How'd you even find us?"

"A lady called it in, said she was driving by and saw a fire break out."

Wait. I swiveled my head back to Steven, walked over to him and the fireman.

"You good, kid?" the man asked me.

"What? Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."

He nodded.

"Who was she?" I asked. "The lady who called."

"Name was...Charity, I think? Very nice lady. Said she was on her way to pray when she saw everything."

On her way to pray? This late?

I thanked the man, then shoved my hands in my front pockets and inhaled icy air. The fireman gave another nod, then headed to help the others blast away the rest of the flames.

"I still have 'em," Steven whispered to me. "The photos." He fished a set of soggy pages out of his pocket. "The file's ruined, but the pics are still pretty good."

I exhaled, exhausted. "Nice job."

Steven looked pretty beat, and I figured I must have too. I was about to give a long sigh when a pair of bright white headlights shone through the darkness, landing directly on me.

I squinted under the glinting rays.

"Who's that?" Steven mumbled, shielding his eyes with his left hand.

"It looks like...like James." I released a fearful breath.

The car parked haphazardly, straddling the yellow line drawn between two spaces. The door swung open in seconds, and James stood to his full height. "Ahmed!" he called. He ran over to me, Katherine following behind after exiting the passenger's seat.

"Ahmed, where have you been!?" Katherine was demanding. "I can't believe this! We've been so w—!"

"Katherine," James whispered, placing a hand softly on her shoulder. "Give him a minute, honey." His gaze rose to the seared apartment behind me, and he shook his head. "From the looks of it, he's been through a lot."

"You guys..." I began. "Look, I—I know I should have said something, but I just..." I glanced at Steven, who quickly bowed his head and took several steps back.

Katherine folded her arms across her chest. "Do you have any idea what we've been through? I've been on the phone all night trying to find you—Principal Turner, Landon Rhymes, Myra Gravestepper...even your father." She pointed a finger at Steven. "I guess it was just luck that Ms. Vaughn-Daley happened to recognize your car."

I lowered my eyes. "She—she called you guys too?"

"Well, of course she did! Why wouldn't she call us!?"

"Katherine, please," James mused in her ear as he tried to rub her shoulder.

She pulled away.

James turned to me, sighed. "Bud...what were you thinking?"

I turned my head left, couldn't look him in the eye. "I—I needed to know what happened. To Lane and Marissa and everyone else. I just...I had to."

"And look what that's gotten you. You almost died tonight." He reached out, placed both his arms on my shoulders. "Ahmed, look at me."

I lowered my head as I turned to face him, gulping when I met his gaze.

"I was so scared," he said to me, stared down earnestly into my eyes. "I was terrified that something'd happened to you. And I—" He paused. "It really hurt me that you ran away from us."

My lip quivered.

No—he doesn't get to play that card. Not this time. I could feel tears building at the base of my eyes. I blinked once, and then I shook them away. "Well, what was I supposed to do?" the question came out as almost a whisper.

James held his stare, eyebrows lifting slightly.

"What was I supposed to do!?" I screamed this time. "You say you love me, that you care about us being a family, but you never tell me anything! What is so hard about just telling me the truth!?" I exhaled heavily, my breathing suddenly irregular.

James sighed. "O-okay," he said with a tremor in his voice, eyes growing heavy. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Just please—come home with us." He squeezed my shoulder. "Come home."

****

I lost count of how many minutes I stared out the window and held my silence, content to watch the moon as it hung stilly and cast rays of light through the trees, peeking between branch and leaf.

As that thin white crescent retreated to the darkness, shielding itself behind layered arms of thick foliage, James cleared his throat in the front seat.

"So, I'm...I'm not really sure where to start," he quavered from behind the wheel.

"Landon," I answered quickly. "Why was he at our house with that girl? What did they want?"

"That girl is a grown woman," Katherine barked from the passenger's seat. "Her name is Shelby Bark, and she and Landon are dating."

"And why do I feel like there's more to the story than that?" I shot back.

Katherine crossed her arms.

James sighed. "Landon said he came on behalf of Marcus, that the church wanted to back my campaign for mayor."

"But...but why?"

"That file you saw—that's why. Landon told me Marcus has been trying to get all records of Lane removed from the Internet. But after what happened twelve years ago, those files were made legal records and placed under the jurisdiction of the state government. The only way to get them cleared from the public database is for the mayor, any mayor, to petition for them to be sealed and redacted."

No way. "W—whoa," I managed. "James, that's insane. Are you gonna—?"

"No," he cut me off. "I should've just told Landon that I wasn't interested."

I hesitated. "...Well, what'd you tell him?"

James stopped at a red light. "I said I'd think about it, just to get him to leave me alone—to leave us alone. But...I never should've said that." He gave a heavy sigh. "And now that all of this has happened, I'm just—really, really out of sorts." He turned to face me in the back seat, pain written all across his face.

I lowered my gaze. "I know what that feels like," I muttered.

James paused. "Well, I'm not going to do it, Ahmed. I've made my decision. Monday morning, I'm withdrawing my candidacy. I can't do this, not if it's just going to endanger the people I care about."

Katherine gasped, drew her hand to her mouth and stared with wide, disbelieving eyes at her husband.

"What? No!" I practically yelled. "James, you don't have to—"

"Yes, Ahmed. Yes, I do. The fact that Landon even thought he could come to me and that I'd say yes—that speaks volumes in and of itself. I can't take this job and pretend everything's fine, knowing Marcus means to buy my silence."

"That doesn't mean you have to quit," I tried. "It just means the church won't back you."

James sighed. "That's basically the same as quitting in this town. And even if I had a shot, I'm still not sure if it's safe for us to stay here."

The light turned green, and James returned his eyes to the road to drive, but not before pausing and gripping the wheel tightly. "Ahmed, if I lost you or Katherine, I don't know what I'd do. I can't let whoever's doing this get to either one of you."

I shrank back into my seat, exhaled, flattened my palms against the cushion beneath me. "James," I spoke up after a moment's pause.

He was silent, grip still ironclad against the steering wheel.

"Do you know what happened? What Pastor Hall did to Lane?"

His shoulders squared. "That depends on who's telling the story," he said. "The official police report was that Lane committed suicide after getting kicked out of EdgeWay. They found her clothes near the falls at the edge of town, so a lot of people just assumed she jumped. Others thought she may've just run away, but...she never resurfaced."

"And what about you?" I pressed.

"I didn't know what to think for a long time. I never wanted to believe that Marcus was involved. He was my pastor, my leader...my friend. But I'm starting to think that maybe his hands weren't so clean after all."

I swallowed hard.

"And after tonight," James continued, "after that visit from Landon, I just can't shake this feeling."

"...What feeling?" I shuddered to ask.

"That he killed her—that that poor little girl's been dead this whole time...and Marcus got away with it."