Lord, Ladies, cats and dogs (deepest apologies if you're a donkey or baboon, or anything else for that matter), once again, I present the younger Navitski brother, Stephan;
° ° °
“Bad Girls Have Bad Secrets.”
The Eighteenth Secret —
Murder
"The car was a navy blue Toyota Corolla." Shane's accusing gaze was on Logan once more, "You drive a Toyota Corolla of the same colour don't you?"
My eyes flickered to the car aside me. It wasn't the car Logan usually drove— which belonged to his elder sister, he'd said — instead, it was a silver BMW. "I didn't know there was only one blue Toyota in this city," I muttered sarcastically.
Mason's phone began to ring, cutting off anyone who was about to speak. He answered, "Conrad?"
A heavy silence fell on us as we listened intently, nervously, unable to make out what my father was saying on the other end. Mason spoke, "I'll be there in a few minutes." He switched the phone off and slipped it into his pocket, "They've released Conrad, I'm going to pick him up— don't do anything stupid." He rushed off into his car before anyone could respond.
I felt a sense of relief wash over me. I had a feeling my father might've known what to do.
Shane continued, "Not every blue Toyota has white rear view mirrors. Are you trying to say someone else decided to have their car exactly the same as yours?"
"No." Logan shifted on his feet, "My car was stolen last week."
"Horse shit."
I took a step forward, having regained some strength. Logan was a shy person and I knew it was difficult for him to have to speak in his defense in front of those who he wasn't comfortable around yet.
"Shane, honestly, stop being a fuckface. Think about what you're saying, okay? What are you even thinking? That a high school student would be working with random fucking thugs off the street to..what? Have my father locked up?"
"Well, it would explain why he showed up so close to all of this happening." Shane narrowed his eyes at me.
"That's fucked."
"I'm not fucking saying he's definitely involved in this, Vicky. Dammit, I'm saying he's a suspect because of the information we just found and we can't rule him out just because he makes you all fluttery inside."
Stephan snorted in laughter but tried to cover it up with a loud cough, eyes widened as he did so. Even Logan coughed quietly aside me, swiping his hand over his face as if embarrassed and in that moment, at the thought of his blush, my stomach had indeed, fluttered. I gritted my teeth in anger.
"I didn't say we're ruling him out. I'm saying you didn't even give him a chance to explain," I snapped. "I'm tired of all this fuckery."
"It's alright," Logan spoke up from aside me, and I finally looked at him. His cheeks were a light shade of pink, and he avoided meeting my gaze. Instead, he looked at Shane as he said, "I suppose it makes a bit of sense to suspect me because of the um," he paused, confusion clear on his face as he shrugged, "Whatever it is you just said, but truthfully, the car was stolen two days before Christmas, we filed a report at the police station for it. It hasn't yet been found."
"Coincidence that it happened to be Blakeson and whoever's working with him who stole his car?" Stephan suggested.
Shane eyed Logan for a few long moments, "I'm not letting you off so easy."
"Oh, okay." Logan fiddled with his keys, "May I leave now?"
I felt bad for the poor guy, being thrown into all the shit that came along with knowing me so quickly. I didn't want him to know about it all, yet he deserved an explanation. "Yes," I said, eyeing him, "Thank you for chasing that guy off."
He shrugged, lowering his head, "I didn't do anything."
"You showed up," Stephan pointed out, "If you didn't, who knows what could've happened, right?"
Shane shrugged a shoulder, "Guess we should thank you."
"Was that you saying thank you?" I narrowed my eyes.
He sent a lazy smirk my way, "Go home, Lance, and stay there where you're safe because Blakeson could have seen you and I hear the gang he's a part of likes to throw people from windows." He was trying to scare Logan, looking for his reaction, but when he hadn't shown any expression, besides raising his eyebrows, Shane backed down.
"I don't think he saw me. I doubt he would've run off if.. if he did."
The corners of Shane's mouth twitched, "You have a point."
I rolled my eyes.
Stephan, on the other hand, furrowed his eyebrows and blinked, "Wait.. I'm not sure I get that—"
"We have neither the time nor crayons to explain it to you, Steph."
I snorted.
For a moment, Stephan's nostrils flared and his lips twitched as though he was holding back laughter, then he rolled his eyes, "You're an ass, you know that? Your ass must be so jealous of the amount of shit that comes out of your mouth."
I snorted again.
Shane sighed and began walking toward the house, Stephan laughing as he followed, "You better hide," Shane was saying, "The garbage truck usually comes by today and we wouldn't want them to take you away..."
Their voices faded as they disappeared into the house and this time, Logan snorted before he went around to the driver's side and got in.
"Oi," he called from inside, and I closed the door, looking at him through it. He stretched his hand out towards me, in it was a small gift box that fitted in my palm when I took it. "I kept it in the car in case I drove by here."
I managed a small smile. "Thank you, Myles. And I'm sorry."
He buckled up, avoiding my gaze as he understood my words. "It's fine, I'm getting used to the see-weird-things-and-don't-question-it thing going on here."
"You look shaken up." Despite his efforts, Logan wasn't very good at keeping his expressions off his face, they were evident. "And a little bit upset, to be honest. I can see it all over your face."
He tilted his head to observe me.
"It's better if I keep you in the dark," I said, "As you've seen, everything about me is fucked up." Before he could respond, we watched Mason's car pull up.
"My lips are sealed," he said, before I could ask him. I nodded, biting down on my lip as I straightened. "And not only because I don't find being thrown out of a window very appealing. Doesn't sound like much fun." He sent a shaky smile my way before he pulled out of the driveway and drove off.
Two doors swung shut and both my father and uncle approached. I met his eyes boldly, and he stared right back. "Are you okay?" He asked, catching me off guard. I blinked rapidly, seeing the obvious signs of anger on him; from the way a muscle in his jaw twitched, to the way his fists clenched.
I shrugged a shoulder and we trooped into the house to discuss plans.
• • •
After half an hour of getting nowhere, I left the house to the Spar nearby, with money from my father to buy something. I was returning to my bike afterwards when my phone buzzed. Logan texted a picture to me;
I bit down on my lip to refrain from smiling — really, it wasn't supposed to be funny. I wasn't even sure if Shane had been serious.
I was about to respond when I caught sight of a navy blue Toyota Corolla driving past. My eyes widened and I hurriedly started my bike, waiting for it to drive out of sight before I followed at a distance.
Some minutes later, the car stopped outside one of the largest houses in the area. It was badly taken care of, with paint peeling from the walls and an overgrown lawn, covered in blankets of snow, as though no one lived there. I parked a distance away, watching as Blakeson got out of the car without a glance behind him. He walked into the house, and shut the door behind him.
I whipped out my phone, pulse racing in my neck as I texted Shane, typing out the address as fast as I could — which was still pretty slow, considering I was new at it. His reply came minutes later.
don't let him see you.
we'll be there now.
I slid my phone into my pocket and felt for the pocket knife Shane had given me that morning and snuck closer, coming up outside the house. I suddenly heard footsteps rushing closer, but they were quickly followed by heavier ones before I heard a thud as someone fell to the floor, crying out in pain.
My eyes widened.
There were sounds of a struggle, his voice was loud as he spoke, it became louder as they entered the room I stood aside. The window was covered with cardboard, making it impossible to see inside.
"No, no," his voice met my ears, "I warned you what I'd do if you tried to escape," he tutted, his voice straining with effort. Another thud and a cry of pain rang out.
"Screw you." I heard my mother, her voice choked.
"Bad things," I heard movement, and he hissed in pain. A loud slap, followed by a feminine gasp. "Very bad things."
"Get the hell off me!" She yelled, and a choked sob left her mouth. My mind was racing, fist clenched as I heard clothing tear loudly.
"Now, now," he hissed, "You're only going to hurt yourself more if you keep moving like this."
A small part of me wanted to stay put, listen to what Shane said and stay hidden, but my feet had already started rushing to the door. I couldn't stand and let my mother be hurt — in any way!
I grabbed a rock off the ground and hurried to the door. I pushed it open as silently as I could, sneaking in. I closed it, praying this would go well for me.
The sound of a phone rang out, further away and I stilled. I heard him speak, "Stay!" His footsteps neared me and I hid aside a closet, holding my breath as he walked the other way, further into the house for his phone.
I tiptoed toward the door, pushing it open. To my luck, it didn't creak. My mother was struggling to sit up, her wrists bound with duct tape. Her hair was dishevelled, eye bruised and filled with tears. Her nose was swollen large and the front of her shirt ripped open.
I rushed forward, peeling the tape off and lifting her to her feet with shaky limbs. Heck if I wasn't scared. "What—" she whispered, but I shushed her, shaking my head as I lead her toward the door.
We made it down the hall when I heard his footsteps again.
"You're even dumber than I thought."
I didn't wait a second, I pushed my mother to run and hurled the rock at him. This time, I aimed for a larger section than his head. The rock slammed into his ribs, knocking his breath out of him.
He recovered quickly, grabbing the same rock and lunging for me. I ran, but he caught me, throwing the rock at my head.
I cried out in pain as it collided with my head. He shoved me aside and took off after my mother who had run out the front door. It took me a few seconds to recover, and by the time I was outside, they were out of sight. His knife lie in the snow and I picked it up. I followed the footsteps to the back of the house, drawing my own pocket knife.
A curse left my lips when I saw that behind was the woods, and took off after them, knowing my feet would dig into the snow, leaving footprints for the others to follow.
Running between the trees, it wasn't easy to not trip over twigs, but the sounds of leaves crunching and twigs snapping lead me in the right direction until I caught up to them.
Blakeson stood at the edge of a cliff, my mother held against him with a knife to her throat. "You back away right now or we're going to see if your mother can fly."
"I can't." she hissed in annoyance, yet her limbs trembled and her eyes were wide and filled with tears.
"Let go of her."
"Or you'll do what?" He laughed. I noted that he was very different from his elder brother in this situation. Where Frank Blakeson had been frantic and nervous, David came off as calm, as though he'd planned all of this and the outcome would be in his favour.
The sounds of people running in the woods met my ears. They were there. I glared at him, "You hear that? Think I'd be stupid enough to come here without making sure the police would show up?"
Appatantly, I was.
His eyes hardened. "You're bluffing."
"You can hear, can't you?" I snapped. "Now let her go, or so help me—" I didn't get to finish before he pushed my mother aside and lunged for me instead.
I gasped, throwing my hand out in front of me. He dodged my right hand and aimed his own knife at me, but I counterattacked, moving and kicking the back of his knee. His knee tipped, but he quickly grabbed me and swung me to the floor in front of him, causing my pocket knife to fall from my grasp.
He kicked it off the cliff as I sprang to my feet, and he jumped toward me. I threw the bigger knife forward and froze when it made contact with his body.
He stilled, eyes wide. It took him a moment to realise he'd been stabbed. It occurred to him only after he'd looked down and seen the blade sticking out of him, my hand clasped around it. His shirt slowly became stained crimson.
His grasped my shoulder, staggering back. He stabbed at me, but his movements were slow and jerky and I shoved him back. I scrambled away when he stumbled backward and even when footsteps approached from behind me, I couldn't move.
Wide eyes, filled with terror was the last thing I saw before he went tumbling off the edge of the cliff.
• • •
And thus,
it was the end
of David Blakeson.
Shame.
On the other hand, yayayayayaaaay, an update two days in a row! Show some love and appreciation, why don't you ♥