The Bolt from the Blue (Working Title)

Chapter 31- Everything Goes Wrong

John marched straight down the corridor, through the dining room and towards the front door.

"We need to go," he said, his voice like a train rushing past a station.

"But you just got-" Ralph began before his wife put a hand on his arm.

"Ralph, this is important." Susan said, "You go on ahead, son."

Sam saw a look pass between her and John- not mother and son, just two police officers, with their shared experiences that Sam would never comprehend. And then John was out of the door and Sam had to scurry to keep up.

"How could she have figured it out?" John asked, the moment they were outside.

"Who?"

"Daria. It was Daria. She killed Veronica."

Sam furrowed his brow, "Daria from your work?"

"She attacked Veronica before."

Sam looked hesitant, "John, so did you."

"I never hurt her, I just-" John threw his hands up in the air, "That's not important. How does Daria know about you?"

"Well, unless you told her-"

"Of course I didn't. I swear."

"Then John how could she know?" Sam tried to put a calming hand on his boyfriend's arm.

"I don't know!" He erupted, flinging off Sam's hand, "But she does!"

"John, I don't think-"

"Well, who does know?" John tried very hard to make it sound like he wasn't interrogating Sam, but his anger still seeped into the words.

"Just you and my family." Sam answered, "You know I don't tell anyone." He glanced around- people were beginning to stare at them, standing in the street, having a very loud conversation about secrets. "Maybe we should move this somewhere else?"

"Fine." John grunted, and opened a portal.

Sam stepped through, making sure not to look back at the people staring, and John followed him.

They were in John's room. It was the first place John had thought of, and he entered expecting to resume the discussion and found his boyfriend staring wide-eyed at the wall.

John's web of hatred and conspiracy was still strung up. Sam's mouth hung open as tried to absorb all the malice before him.

"Sam..." John breathed, trying to think of something he could say that would explain away the collage of hatred. Nothing came to mind.

Sam shook his head, trying to dismiss the evidence before his eyes: he didn't want to think that John could do something like this. But the longer he looked, the more it made sense.

"Sam," John reached out, knowing that Sam would twist away. He did.

"How could you?"

"Sam, I didn't hurt her."

"You wanted to." Sam's world was crashing down around him. He'd seen John burst into Veronica's room, it was true- but that was a moment of passion, of confusion, of shock at the sudden reappearance of this woman in his life. This was cold, calculating. This was vengeful. This was cruel. And then something else occurred to Sam, "You used me."

"What?" John's mind raced. When had he ever done anything like that?

"The night we had the picnic. You tried to get me to spy on her."

John considered protesting, but it was true. "I wasn't thinking straight, I- I wanted revenge-"

"And now she's dead." Sam couldn't help but add this; even saying it gave him a lancing feeling in is chest, but he couldn't avoid it.