The Blackout Girl ✔️

chapter twenty-one

She was Quinton's designated driver when they visited Cal. It's not that she minded it, but she stopped coming when the group started asking too many questions. Her history was off-limits, and she liked to avoid it as much as possible.

"How'd you find out?" she asked him.

Cal's jaw twitched, a muscle winding up. "The news. I thought I deserved a phone call, but I guess I was wrong about that."

"It's been hard—"

"I know that, but it's been hard for everyone who loved Quinton. I was his best friend, Lexi. That means something, doesn't it?" he demanded.

"It does," she said, her voice cracking. "It does."

Cal changed the subject. "Where's your mom?"

"I don't know," said Lexi. "We were at dinner. I needed space, so I left. I couldn't deal with it, I guess."

"I've been skipping class," he told her. "Pretty sure I haven't come down from a high since it happened."

She wished she could say the same.

"Did you see him?" he prompted her. "Like that. All bloody. Did you see him?"

"Calvin—" she started.

"Did you?" he pressed.

She grimaced, ashamed. "I found him."

"Christ," Cal hissed. "Oh, Lexi, I'm so sorry. Is it true, what they're saying on the news? It's the same chick, right?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I don't know what she would want with him. I don't know why she would pick Q. It doesn't make any sense."

"She's fucked in the head. I doubt anything she does will ever make sense to anyone. Even the feds. If they could figure her out, they would've found her by now," Cal remarked. He fell into the couch and changed the channel, his movements forced and aggressive.

"They're trying," Lexi said.

"They've been trying for a while, and it didn't save Q," he shot back. Realizing his tone, he softened. "Sorry. You're not a cop. It's not like I can be mad at you."

He came back from the kitchen with two cans of Coke. She cracked hers open, using it to ease the lump in her throat.

"How much do you know about the case?" he wondered aloud.

She went to war with herself, wondering what to tell him. She'd been a suspect, up close and personal with the intimate details of the investigation. If she were bolder, she would tell him about the photos and mutilations. She might mention what her brother looked like, carved up and left to rot in his own home.

"Not much," she lied. "They brought us in to ask the standard questions. It's pretty closed up. They only tell the public what they need to."

"I saw the profile they gave to the news," said Cal.

"If only they had a suspect to go with it," Lexi muttered.

"I'll say. Aren't the feds supposed to be good at their jobs?"

She knew they were doing their best. She'd met most of the team working the case, and even forged some relationships with each of them. It still wasn't much to go off of. She couldn't make a statement for or against them. Not really, not when so much went unanswered. What she needed to accept was that she was on the outside looking in. They all were.

"They're better than the cops," she replied. "That's why they called them in, right?"

There was an awkward pause. Lexi did her best to move past it, rather than allowing herself to overthink.