The Calling Of Quinn Taylor

Chapter Eleven

A long time ago, I learned how sometimes it’s better to lie than tell the truth. I learned that sometimes, the truth hurts. It feels like getting stabbed and falling to the floor in utter pain, bleeding until the moment when everything stops-- the moment of death. 
    Staring at the wall in my closet, I remember yesterday in the bathroom. 

    “H-h-hurt her?” Keller said. His words had nearly driven me to insanity. Telling him was a mistake; so why did I do it? I couldn’t tell him my truth… that’s why. “Who would do that? And w-w-what do you mean by ''hurt?”
    “Keller!” I exclaimed, pivoting around to face the wall. “I. Don’t. Know. All I know is that she was hurt somehow and-and I don’t know who or- or how!” I spun around again, facing him. “I am by no means a detective.” 
    “I don’t want to be a part of this,” he said, rubbing his hands throughout his messy hair. “Just-- just leave me out of it.”

    I hurt Keller.
    I hurt him by telling the truth. 
    This is why I hid it from him! I knew exactly how it would play out! He can’t handle stuff like this-- he’s not strong enough. Once something tough gets thrown his way, he distracts himself with other things so he doesn’t have to handle them… he shouldn’t have found out. 
    “Hey,” Mia says, entering my room. “You ready? I just saw Wesley pull in.”
    I stand up, giving one last look at my wall.
    With Mia’s help, we can solve this. And it’s about time I let more than two people in. 
    And after today, I’m getting help.
    I need to tell someone.
    “Have fun at the movies,” Mom says, grinning ear-to-ear. If she knew what we were really doing, I’d be grounded for life. She’d tell me it’s a job for the police and that I’d be putting myself in danger. 
    And she wouldn’t be wrong.
    “Thanks,” I say, slipping on a pair of sandals. “We will.”
    With that, I grab my phone and we take off. 
            The three of us pile up in Wes's car, taking off to Jessie's house in hopes of finding him there. 
            The car is screaming of silence, begging for someone to speak -just once- entire way there. 
    When we pull up into his driveway, I instantly remember the night of the party; I remember staring at his door, debating to walk in. Then I finally did, and Skye was the first one to say something. She welcomed me, let me know it was okay. But now, I’m investigating her for a murder.
    “I’ll uh--” Mia says, opening the door. “I’ll go knock… he should be alone; his parents work and his sister lives five hours away.” 
    She steps out and we watch her as she makes her way to the door. She hesitates at first, but then decides it’s okay.
    Then she knocks. 
    But Jessie doesn’t answer.
    Instead, a girl with brown skin and hair as black as night answers, wearing only a t-shirt reaching to her knees. 
    Riley Anderson.
    Instantly, Mia flashes around with painful, wide eyes-- it’s like she’s seen a ghost. 
    I thought she hated him; why is she upset? If she broke up with him, this shouldn’t be a surprise. 
    “Well shit,” Wes says, climbing out of the car. 
    I follow him out, facing Riley. 
    “He doesn’t wanna’ talk,” Riley says, starting to close the door, but is instantly rejected with the strength of Mia’s hand, full of force. 
    “You bitch,” she hisses, clenching her fists. 
    I peer at Wes, shaking inside. What’s about to happen? I need to leave-- I need to flee the scene. 
    “The second I break up with him, you come crawling back to him like a fucking dog-- when were you gonna’ tell me, Riley? You were just gonna’ keep going behind my back, betraying me? God…” she sighs, bringing her head down. “I thought you changed.” 
    “Babe, what’s-” Jessie’s voice begins, but suddenly stops when he appears in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. 
    What did she mean when she said Riley never changed? Has this happened before? Maybe… maybe with Maeve.
    “Enough with your bullshit,” Wes says, opening the door wider. He steps in front of Mia, who backs away, straying away from the two people who’ve hurt her the most. “We need to talk.” 
***
    Waiting for Jessie to put on clothes, the four of us sit in silence until Mia opens her mouth. 
    “It wasn’t the first time, you know?” she mumbles to me, so Riley can’t hear. “Before Jessie and I dated, he was with Maeve.”
    “What happened?” I ask. 
    But Wes answers. “He had sex with Riley behind her back.”
    Oh. So now she has a motive; wanting Jessie all to herself… no one to get in her way. But that means… that means Mia would be next. Mia hasn’t been hurt, she’s okay. 
    It couldn’t have been Riley, right? She wouldn’t do something like that. 
    But neither could anyone else. 
    Everyone wears a mask. 
    “So why are you guys here?” Jessie says, glaring at me with agonizing eyes. “You gonna’ make Riley break up with me too?”
    I shudder, wanting to run away. I shouldn’t even be here right now. Jessie is dangerous-- he could hurt me… just like he hurt Keller. 
    “I didn’t-” I mumble, but Mia jumps in. 
    “She didn’t do shit; you’re just an asshole.”
    “Why’d you cheat on my sister?” Wes says, staring at the wood floor. He falls quiet and doesn’t even flinch when my hand rubs back and forth on his thigh, in hopes of showing him comfort. 
    “Riley,” Jessie mumbles. “Can you please go? I’ll be back up in a second.”
    And with one last snarl, she heads upstairs.
    “Look,” he says. “If you’re here to question me like you did with that pink haired freak, just know it’s useless. I didn’t do it; it was a fucking accident.” 
    “Bullshit,” Mia exclaims. “You know just as well as everyone else that it wasn’t.” 
            "Oh my-- why would I even-- I don't have a reason!" he shouts, burying his head in his hands. 
            He's right; he doesn't have a motive. We're going in blind, trying to find a simple answer-- who?
            "To make it easier," Wes says. "You know she loved you. After a whole year, she still loved you… but you didn't love her. You wanted someone to play with, someone to not take things serious."
           "Riley," I whisper under my breath, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. 
           I glance at Mia, finding her sinking into the couch with a tear dripping down her face; it was all for nothing. She was with Jessie because he wanted to break her.
           "And to make it easier, you needed to get the girl who was still chasing you out of the picture." 
           It all makes sense now. 
          Jessie McFall never wanted Maeve. He wanted Riley. 
          And to get Riley, he had to kill. 
          "Listen," Jessie hisses. "You go to the police with this… and I'll kill you. I don't care if your sister is dead. I don't care if your mother would literally die from losing the both of you. If you tell anyone, I will end you." 
         My stomach begins to ache and I instantly stand up, searching for Wes's hand. 
         I want to go home.
        We have to get out of here.
        We're in the presence of a cold blooded killer… and he could strike any minute.
        My heart races, threatening to jump out of my throat. 
       Come on! We need to leave! 
       I want to speak, but nothing comes out. I'm left with a closed throat and words begging to leap out. 
       "I didn't lay a hand on Maeve," Jessie continues to insist, but we all know better. 
       "Come on," Mia says, jumping up. She wipes off her tears and pushes Wes away, shielding him from the violence. "We're getting out of here." 
       When we reach outside, the door slams shut and the three of us stand in silence, processing everything that just happened. 
       Wes leans against the house, with his hand hovering over his mouth. His eyes start to puff and the tears seep out… all at once. 
       His cadaverous face runs pale, leaving his color to be his red eyes. 
       "Hey," I mumble, wrapping my arms around him. "He's not thinking straight, okay? We don't know if it's him. We don't know if he did it." I try to tell the truth; we don't know. We don't know for sure. "Look at his car," I say, turning around to see the res Mustang parked in the driveway. "No dents; there's absolutely nothing." 
    And in reality, it’s true. 
We have no way of telling who’s telling the truth.