CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ROLLING IN THE DEEP — ADELE
The scars of your love remind me of us
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all
STELLA MADE JJ leave early in the morning, instructing him to head back to the Chateau in case John B returned home. He gladly went, as he was also worried about his best friend, leaving his girl with a kiss on the cheek.
Once JJ vacated the premises, Stella left her room in search of her mother. They had gotten in late last night and Emma was asleep. As much as Stella wanted to wake her up, she decided against it, settling to wait until the sun came up.
When Stella found her mother, she was met with an unexpected sight. Her mother was sitting at the kitchen island with her cell phone in front of her, staring at the wall like she had just seen a ghost.
"Mom," Stella started in caution, walking closer to the woman. She wondered what it was that could have her mother so spooked. Maybe one of her patients passed away. "What's wrong?"
Emma jumped at the sound of her daughter's voice. Shaken from her thoughts, her gaze left the wall and she faced Stella with a smile. It was forced, not quite reaching her eyes. "The cell towers are back up on Figure Eight," she said, standing up from the barstool she was sitting on.
Stella's eyes followed her figure as she moved from the island to the stove. Her head tilted in confusion at her sudden switch in mood. "Did you get a call?"
Emma turned and the second her eyes met Stella's she let out a sigh. She couldn't keep this from her. "Why don't we sit down?" she suggested, pointing to the barstools by the island.
The young girl fiddled with the ring hanging from her neck and made her way over to the counter. Something was definitely wrong and her mother's tone of voice only solidified that. She was speaking to her in the same tone she spoke in when she had to tell someone their loved one died. "Mom, what's going on?"
Emma sat beside her and reached for her hand. "Early this morning, your father was admitted into the hospital."
"Why?" Stella questioned, a minuscule part of her still caring about him despite claiming to hate every fibre of his being. "Was it drugs or something? Alcohol poisoning?"
Emma shook her head. "He came in with a head trauma and lacerations all over his body. He was rushed into surgery," she continued, sticking to the rules of breaking bad news. Be straightforward, answer questions, be honest. "He made it through, but it was touch and go for a while."
Stella studied her face. She felt like there was more to what her mother was telling her. "Okay... and?"
"I got a call from Dr. Thornton saying he woke up and that he's conscious, but—" Emma took a deep breath, "he has retrograde amnesia. He doesn't remember the past six years."
If Stella wasn't already sitting, she'd probably need to hold onto something to keep her up. "Retrograde amnesia? How... How is that even possible?" She came to a quick realization and suddenly wished JJ was still in the house to comfort her. "Wait. Six years, that means he still thinks I'm ten and that... that you're still married to him."
Emma didn't say anything. She nodded her head and pulled her hand away from Stella's before running it down her face tiredly.
Stella tried to remember what her father was like before they left him. Memories of a distant past where he'd bottle the sun for her was chased out by the clouds of his growing resentment. He was unpredictable, angry. She understood why her mother looked like she had seen a ghost. It's because in a way, she has.
"So what now?" Stella asked slowly.
Emma rested her elbows on the island and rubbed her temples. "We need to go to the hospital. He's refusing treatment until he sees us. He doesn't believe that it's been so long."
Stella stood from her seat in a flurry of disbelief. "They can't make you see him!" she exclaimed, worried for her mother's mental well-being. "You're not obligated to do anything for him. You're not his wife, or doctor, and you have a restraining order against him that he broke like a thousand times, so that has to count for something, right?"
"He's refusing treatment, Stella."
"So?" Stella paused, thinking over her next words carefully. "What if he just... didn't get treatment? I know it's horrible, but he—"
"Is horrible," her mom finished, not even blaming her daughter for having the thought. "Yeah."
Stella's eyes fell to the ground.
"Stel..." Emma walked back around the island and placed her hands on the young girl's shoulders.
She knew Stella was worried about her—what would happen if she faced her abuser at the peak of his terror. But Emma also knew that she was no longer the woman she was when she was married. Even though the situation was a bit triggering, she had faith that she was stronger than the trauma she had healed from.
"I want you to listen to me carefully," Emma continued, placing a finger under Stella's chin and lifting her head up so their eyes could meet. "I'll be okay. We will be okay. I promise."
There was a beat of silence before Stella nodded her head.
"Okay," Emma said, taking her hands off Stella's shoulders. "Let's go to the hospital."
"YOU SURE HE got everything?" Kie asked, raising her phone in the air.
She, like JJ, had gone to the Chateau that morning to see if John B had turned up. Luckily, he had and the three of them were now sitting on the end of his dock, listening to him as he filled them in on everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
"Every bar," John B confirmed with a bitter tone. "The whole enchilada."
JJ watched as Kie nearly dropped her phone into the water. "Kie," he called in minor annoyance. Here they were, trying to comfort their friend and she was too wrapped up in her phone.
John B looked up at her, squinting from the sun. "What are you doing?"
Kie shot him a look. "Trying to get a signal so I can call Stella and let her know your ass is safe."
"Cell towers are down," JJ stated in confusion.
"Not on Figure Eight," Kie muttered. "The signal might reach..."
John B shook his head, struggling with his cast as he pulled it off. "Look, it's not like I expected a happy ending or some shit."
There was a clattering noise as John B tossed his cast onto the ground. Kie narrowed his eyes at him. "John B—"
"What, Kie?" He snapped. "It's a hairline fracture. Who cares?"
"You should care," she responded, wishing Stella was there to scold him and spill facts about broken bones. "Your arm's gonna be messed up for life."
"It's fine." He wiggled his fingers. "See?"
Footsteps thundered down the dock, causing the three teens to look up.
Pope sprinted towards them, his suit dripping in sweat. "Guys! Guys! Oh! Oh, God," he painted, hunching over to catch his breath. "I ran all the way here."
"You alright?" John B asked from his place on the floor.
JJ lifted his head. "How was the interview, Pope?"
"Don't ask." He didn't want to think about it. If he let his mind wander to the interview, he'd probably cry. He turned back to John B. "JB... Look, I'm sorry, dude. About everything."
"It's fine."
"But— But I don't have a lot of time, and—" He started to pace. "And I have information that is tactically relevant. Wait, wait. Where's Stella?"
"With her mom," JJ replied. "What is it, P?"
Pope shook his head and resumed what he was there for. "So, before I had my interview, my dad said he was going down to the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron's big plane. Because it was too heavy, it needed a longer landing strip to take off. So, I'm there sitting in my interview, thinking to myself, 'Hm. Why would Cameron need a longer airstrip to take off? What could be so heavy to weigh it down?' Gold."
The three other Pogues shared a look. "That's right."
"Exactly." Pope gestured for them to get up. "Guys, this is our chance, but it leaves tonight, and we have to go."
Kie turned to her friends with a hopeful glint in her eye. "Guys, we can't give up now."
JJ turned to John B. "What's the plan, big man?"
The boy stared at each of his friends before responding. "We're gonna steal that shit back."
KILDARE GENERAL HOSPITAL was a place Stella spent a lot of her time in. When she was younger, her mom would bring her into work when she couldn't find a babysitter and when she got older, the majority of her week was spent roaming the halls as a volunteer. She had been a patient here and visited her reckless friends more times than she could count. Point being, a part of her found comfort in the complex building. She grew up here, so it was hard to believe that the very place that helped raise her made her feel like a child all over again.
Stella sat in the ICU with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed into a glare. The man in front of her stared at her shamelessly, making her patience run thin.
"I can't believe it's been six years," her father mused. "You must be, what, fifteen now?"
Stella's jaw clenched as she raised her brow at him, but she remained silent.
"Come on, what did I do to make you ignore me like this?"
Stella took a deep breath. "More like what you didn't do," she said, thinking about all the times he could've been a good father but wasn't. She stood from her chair and shook her head. "And I'm sixteen."
As she walked towards the door, her mother walked into the room. She was wearing a large knit cardigan, probably one she left in her locker, and the lines on her face showed how stressed she was.
"I'm getting a drink," Stella informed. "Do you want anything?"
Emma shook her head and sat down in the seat Stella was previously in.
The golden girl walked down the hall and rounded the corner until she was standing in front of a vending machine. Her mood was low and her mind was running rampant with thoughts.
She knew that amnesia was common among those who suffered a head injury, but she found it odd that her father forgot the past six years. It was an awfully specific time frame and it was too convenient for him to forget the years he spent without her.
She didn't trust him at all.
When her bottle of lemonade fell from the self of the vending machine, she felt a buzz in her back pocket. Pulling out her phone, she saw a rather unflattering picture of Kie flash across the screen followed by her contact name. She pressed accept and put the phone to her ear.
"Hey, Kie," she greeted tiredly. "Did John B turn up? He okay?"
"Finally," Kie sighed. She had been trying to call Stella for the past ten minutes. It wasn't until the group neared the airstrip on Figure Eight that she had gotten enough signal for it to go through. "John B's fine, but—"
"Kie, I can hardly hear you." There was a shouting in the background that drowned out Kie's words. It sounded like JJ, followed metal clanking. Stella had a strong feeling that it was his gun. "What's going on?"
"Ward Cameron took the gold and he's about to leave with it. Can you meet us at the airstrip?"
"What are you gonna do?" Stella questioned with furrowed brows. "Shoot the plane down and steal it back?"
At her silence, Stella knew her answer was yes.
"Are you coming?" Kie questioned.
"I want to," Stella replied, "but I'm... Uh, I'm kinda tied up at the moment."
"Tied up?" Kie repeated in disbelief. "Doing what? Stella, this is four hundred million dollars in gold!"
"I know, but—"
"Where are you? We'll even come get you."
"I'm at the hospital."
"What? Why? You don't have a shift today. Are you okay?"
Stella heard JJ's voice come through the phone. "Why are you asking her if she's okay? Where is she? Kie, give me the phone. What do you mean 'no'? Give me the fucking—"
There was a loud scuffle on the other end of the line that Stella grimaced at.
"Stel?" JJ called, ignoring the glare that Kie was shooting him from across the van. "Why is Kie asking if you're okay? Why are you at the hospital?"
"I'm fine, J," Stella reassured quickly. "Something happened with my dad, I'll fill you in later, but I don't want to leave my mom alone right now."
JJ froze, assuming the worst. "Is she okay?"
"Uh, yeah, she's... She'll be alright," Stella said. "Look, don't worry about me, worry about the gold. And please be careful."
JJ nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see him. "Okay, okay. I will," he promised. "Just meet us as soon as you can."
"I will."
"I love you, Stel. I'm gonna get you that ring, I promise."
Stella looked down at the ring handing on the chain around her neck and shook her head. "Be safe and don't get caught!"
"Yes, ma'am."
The call ended and Stella sighed. Leaning against the vending machine, she twisted her lemonade bottle open and took a long sip.
A bitter huff escaped her lips as she thought about what Kie had told her.
Ward Cameron.
A man who killed an innocent man and stole the treasure he spent his whole life trying to find. Somehow, it always circled back to him.
With the shake of her head, she started walking back to her father's room.
The door was open and from around the door frame, she could see that her mother was no longer there.
As she approached the door, she could hear her father talking.
"Shit," he swore, "voicemail again."
Stella's brows furrowed and she pressed herself against the nearby wall next to the door so she could eavesdrop.
"Hey, Ward. It's Gabe," he said. "Look, we had a deal. I help you and you help me. You brought me out to this shit-hole island to keep Emma busy and off your back. I've done that, so tell me why I'm sitting in a hospital room you put me in without the money you promised me."
There was a few moments of silence followed by a heavy sigh.
Stella's jaw clenched as she processed what she had just heard. She knew from Rafe that her father was working for Ward, and she had a strong suspicion that he was faking his memory loss as well. She didn't expect much from two men who were historically not great people. But what she didn't expect was for her mother's name to be brought up.
What did her mother have to do with Ward Cameron and why does he need her distracted?
Stella had a lot of questions and one way or another, she was going to get answers.
She walked into the room, her footsteps alerting her father that he was no longer alone.
He looked up with a smile, acting as if he were clueless. "Hey, Stella."
"Hey," she greeted, putting on a mirroring expression of false innocence. She approached the foot of the bed and sat down. "How's your memory? Has anything changed in the past ten minutes?"
He shook his head and Stella let out a small sigh.
"You know," she started, nudging his blanket covered ankle, "I read this paper once where they studied two hundred retrograde amnesia patients. They found that about seventy-seven percent of them remembered distant memories first."
Her father tilted his head to the side and raised a brow. "Oh, yeah?"
"Mhm," she hummed. "But considering you were just on the phone with Ward Cameron, it doesn't look like you're a part of that statistic."
Gabe stilled, obviously caught off guard by her confrontation. "Ward?" He faltered, looking away from her. "Ward Cameron? Why... Why would I be talking to—"
"Cut the act," Stella snapped, standing from the bed. "I know you're faking it."
The smile on her father's face fell and a hardened look washed over his features. He seemed to have underestimated her intelligence.
Stella scoffed in bitter amusement and shook her head. "Oh, don't look so surprised. If you're going to make phone calls to your handler, you should make sure the door is closed first. It's like you didn't even try."
Her stare burned into him and she wondered if he felt an ounce of regret for the things he had done.
"You didn't come to the island because you wanted to be in my life again," Stella spat, the faint trace of disgust laced throughout her features. Not that she wanted him in her life anyways, but the thought of him wanting to try, at least, hurt that small piece of inner child that was still trapped inside the depths of her mind. "You came for money."
"That's not true," he denied, trying to think of ways he could talk himself out of the situation.
"Isn't it?" She pressed, tilting her head to the side. Answers, she reminded herself. "Why does Ward want you to distract my mom?"
He averted his gaze, unable to look at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit," she returned, not missing a beat. The disgust amplified and she gave her father a once over, recalling how JJ and John B spoke about getting gaffed. And while Stella was oblivious in all aspects of love, there was none blinding her vision as she connected the dots in her mind and her fathers injuries closely resembled that of a hook. "You just like being useless, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here with what I assume are gaff scars."
Silence and his pathetic averted gaze.
Finding that her father wouldn't give her any answers or explanations beyond what she had already taken, she took a deep breath and stepped closer to the bed. Her hands picked up the oxygen tube that ran down the side of it and four emotions dominated the rest as she became a whirlwind of complexity. Anger, disgust, pity, resolution.
Perhaps she needed closure after all.
"When I was younger," she started, slowly folding the tube in her grasp, "I thought you were everything."
His gaze lifted to meet hers and for the first time in her life, she saw guilt.
Not the kind of regret he had when he tried to make up for a flying fist with a bouquet of flowers in hand.
Not the kind of remorse he had when he'd take her and her mom out for a fancy dinner and tell her she could order anything he wanted.
True and genuine guilt.
She held his stare with unfaltering conviction. "Even after you and mom started fighting, even when you lost your temper, even when you raised your voice, even when you scared me. As long as you said sorry afterwards. But then I got older and realized what a selfish prick you are."
Her father's gaze flickered down to her hand as the ability to breath became harder with every word. She was too consumed by her fury to notice that she had completely cut off his oxygen supply.
His eyes met hers once again and she leaned down with a threatening glare, one that could rival his own on his worst day, and it was in that moment that he realized while she had her mother's eyes, she held her father's fury.
And it terrified him.
"If you ever step foot on this island again, you won't have to worry about Ward Cameron finishing you off," Stella warned. "You'll have to worry about me."
She straightened her back and let go of the oxygen tube. She ignored her father as he struggled to catch his breath and turned to face the door. When she did, she saw her mother entering the room.
Emma gave her an odd look, glancing at her coughing ex-husband before nodding down the hall. She hadn't heard the conversation that just took place, but even if she did, she probably wouldn't have objected. "Lets go get some food," she said.
When the two Marx women found their way to the cafeteria, they decided to share a muffin, neither of them having an appetite.
Stella took a sip of her drink. She was worried for her friends. Kie's words swirled in her mind and the thought of Ward Cameron left a bitter taste in her mouth. She lifted her gaze from the half eaten muffin. "Hey, Mom," she began, curious of her involvement, "what do you know about Ward Cameron?"
"You mean other than him being an asshole?" Emma cracked a smile when she saw the corners of Stella's lips turn up. She then sighed and leaned back into her seat. "I don't know. He was alright in high school, but now... Well, if I had to pick a word, he's ruthless."
"Ruthless?" Stella repeated, remembering Big John's fate.
Emma nodded, thinking about all of the theories she had made up over the past nine months. "You don't become as rich as he is by playing nice."
Stella hesitated. There was no right way to bring Ward's actions into conversation, but she needed to tell someone and her mother was the only adult she trusted. "So... you wouldn't... You wouldn't put murder past him?"
"I'm sorry, what?" Emma stared at her with an analytical eye. "Murder?"
It seemed that she also underestimated her daughter's intelligence because slowly, the pieces starting coming together. If Stella was asking about Ward Cameron and bringing up the topic of murder, that could only mean one thing—that her daughter had the same suspicions about Ward as she did.
Emma knew from the scene at Midsummers that Stella and her friends were getting into some sort of trouble, but she never would've guessed that it had to do with the death of Big John and the danger of Ward Cameron's greed.
Stella could feel her heart rate pick up as her mother turned serious—more serious than she had ever seen her—and she wondered what would come of their conversation.
"Stella," her mother started, her voice low as if she was scared of anyone else hearing. She was calm and collected, but stern and urgent. "What do you know?"
The younger Marx woman took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest. From her mother's tone, she could tell she knew more than she was letting on. "What do you know?" she retorted, using her words against her.
"Stella," Emma warned, but from the look on her daughter's face, she knew she'd have to share her knowledge to get some in return. There was no use in negotiation. Stella was, after all, the most stubborn sixteen-year-old she had ever met.
With a sigh, Emma nodded and leaned forward. "A week before Big John went missing, he came to me asking if I could look over John B if anything ever happened to him," she revealed. "He told me him and his business partner were going after the Royal Merchant treasure. I had no idea his business partner was Ward until he took John B in after Midsummers. I had my suspicions about what happened when Scooter Grubbs died, so that's probably why Ward brought your dad into the picture, to throw me off his trail."
Stella nodded, relieved to hear that her mother was only involved for being nosy—a trait that she definitely inherited from her.
"Now, what have you and your friends been doing this summer?"
Stella slowly lifted her gaze. "We found the gold," she said slowly, trying to gage her mother's reaction. "Big John left a contingency plan. We found it and we found the gold that was on the Merchant. Somehow, Ward found out and... I don't have the details, but I trust John B. He said Ward killed his father and I believe him."
With her suspicions confirmed, Emma ran a hand down her face. "Shit."
"Yeah." Stella nodded. "And now Ward stole the gold and is currently at the airstrip about to get away with it."
Through her fingers, Emma looked at her daughter. "Please don't tell me your friends are there right now trying to stop him."
Stella's silence and the way she avoided her gaze was a good enough answer to warrant a warning glare and a pointed finger.
"Stella-Anne," Emma started, "don't you dare think about joining them. Ward is dangerous and—"
"But—"
Stella was cut off by the sound of her mom's phone buzzing.
Emma looked at the screen and saw that she was being paged to the emergency room. She stood from the table, pushing any thoughts of Ward or Big John to the back of her mind.
"What is it?" Stella questioned, watching as her mom collected her belongings.
"Incoming trauma, it's a GSW," Emma responded in haste. "I have to go. Stay here and don't go and meet up with your friends. I mean it, Stella-Anne."
She took off running, leaving Stella to follow in suit despite orders not to. Luckily, the cafeteria and the emergency room were on the same floor.
When the two Marx women rounded the corner, they were nearly run over by a gurney with Sheriff Peterkin on it. Emma jumped in right away, grabbing a trauma gown and gloves from the boxes on the wall as they headed to a trauma room. Stella was left behind, wondering what happened, when her ears picked up on two male voices.
"Who did it? Who shot her?"
She turned to see Deputy Shoupe and Ward Cameron, and her blood ran cold. If Ward was here, that meant this happened at the airstrip.
"You saw the van that was there," Ward said. "Who do you think did it?"
Stella backed away before they could see her and retreated into an empty hallway, heading towards the closest exit. She needed to find her friends.
She pulled out her phone as she walked through the sliding doors of the main entrance and dialled Kie's number, hoping that she was on Figure Eight and had signal. "Come on, pick up," she muttered. The call picked up and she wasted no time in talking. "Kie, Peterkin was just rushed into the ER with a gunshot wound, what the fuck happened at the airstrip?"
"What do you mean Peterkin was brought to the ER?" Kie questioned, panic in her tone.
"I mean she was shot and it doesn't look good!" Stella exclaimed, her hand fiddling with her necklace. "Are you guys okay? Where are you?"
"We're fine," she answered, hitting the boys' arms as they tried to get her attention. "We're in the salvage yard just off Airport Road."
Stella could hear the rumble of a plane overhead and looked up. Her jaw clenched, assuming that it was the Cameron's plane getting away with the gold.
"I'll be there as soon as I can."
She hung up and took off running, hoping that she misheard Ward's answer when Shoupe asked him who was responsible.
BY THE TIME Stella reached the salvage yard, she was severely out of breath. The distance between the salvage yard and the hospital was greater than she anticipated, leaving her wishing that she took her mom's car instead. It would've been more efficient than running.
"A little weed never hurt no one."
Stella pushed the gate open and followed the sound of her boyfriend's voice.
"JJ," she heard Kie scold.
"Relax, Kie."
"You know he doesn't smoke."
Stella rounded a corner and saw her two friends standing in front of Pope.
"Well, maybe not until today," JJ said, shrugging his shoulders.
Their gaze shifted to Stella as she neared.
"Hey, what the hell happened? Where's John B?" Stella asked, hunching over to catch her breath. She looked over at Pope and spotted the vape in his hands. "Pope, since when do you smoke?"
He looked up at her, a pained expression crossing his face. "I lost my scholarship, Stella," he confessed. "I walked out in the middle of the interview. It's gone. It's not gonna happen."
Stella's eyes softened in sympathy. That scholarship was Pope's ticket off the island. Everything he worked so hard for was just... gone. All the late nights spent studying, all the parties he missed in favour of doing homework, all the volunteer work and essays, it didn't mean anything anymore. It was all for nothing.
"Pope, I'm so sorry," she started softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll help you find other scholarships to apply for, I promise."
Kie stared at the boy in disbelief before speaking. "You did that for us?"
Pope shook his head before glaring up at her. "No, not for us." It seemed that there was still some unresolved anger between them from their previous argument. "For nothing."
JJ stepped forward and sat beside him on the broken couch. "I'm here for you, Pope." He nudged the vape closer to Pope's mouth. "Welcome to my world, okay?"
Kie shook her head. "JJ—"
"What, Kie?" Pope snapped. "He's right. It doesn't matter anymore."
Kie ignored his hostility. "You don't have to do that."
"What do you care?"
Not wanting her friends to have another fight, Stella stepped in. "Can someone fill me in on what's going on?" she questioned, her eyes sweeping over her friends. "What happened at the airstrip, where's JB, and why was Sheriff Peterkin shot?" Her face fell and she turned to JJ. "Please tell me you didn't shoot Peterkin."
He gave her an incredulous look and shook his head. "Okay, I know you know I hate cops, but do you really think I'd shoot one?"
Without missing a beat, the three other teens chorused, "Yes."
JJ contemplated their response before nodding his head and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Alright, that's fair," he muttered. He crossed his arms and leaned back as Kie took it upon herself to explain everything.
Stella listened attentively. What started out as a recovery mission, soon turned into a kidnapping situation where Ward Cameron decided to take Sarah to the Bahamas with him against her will. Knowing her best friend, Stella knew that John B wouldn't let that happen and of course he had to be a hero and save her. The Pogues weren't sure what happened after that because the cops showed up and they had to leave.
Stella was just about to fill them in on what happened at the hospital when John B stumbled into the area with a dazed look on his face.
"Dude!" JJ exclaimed, shooting up from his seat. He placed a hand on John B's shoulder to steady him. "Dude, you good?"
The rest of the Pogues crowded him, bombarding him with questions until they noticed the blood on his hands.
"Is this yours?" JJ questioned firmly.
Kie tried to snap him out of his daze. "Whose blood is that?"
All of them knew the answer, but none of them wanted to say it out loud. The blood belonged to Sheriff Peterkin.
Ward's words circulated in Stella's mind. You saw the van that was there. Who do you think did it?
No matter how guilty John B might've seemed, she knew it couldn't have been him. John B did not shoot Peterkin, there had to be some other explanation for this.
"John B," Stella said, taking JJ's place in front of him. Her hands cupped his face as she forced him to look at her. Patting his cheeks, she said, "Hey, focus up. Who shot Peterkin?"
His gaze met hers and he let out a shaky breath. "It was Rafe. Rafe did it."
There was a sharp and collective intake of breath that sounded under the small shed of the salvage yard. Kie, Stella, Pope, and JJ shared a nervous look, unsure of what to say.
Rafe Cameron was the biggest asshole on the island, always picking fights for the sake of exerting dominance, but they would have never guessed that he would commit murder. Especially not Stella as their previous encounter at the hospital ran through her mind.
It seemed that the apple didn't fall far from the murderous tree.
The teenagers were pulled out of their shocked states as sirens sounded in the distance.
The group rushed to hide behind some fallen scraps of metal and as the police cruisers drove past, Pope let out a single word that all of them were thinking.
"Shit."
RAE SPEAKS !
stella getting the closure she didn't think she needed and finally telling her dad off?? as she should 💅🏼
stella the entire chapter, especially after seeing peterkin wheeled into the ER with a gunshot wound knowing damn well she heard jj's gun when they were on the phone:
also there's only a few more chapters left :(