The Calling Of Quinn Taylor

Chapter Sixteen

I trudge out of the interrogation room and into the front room where I find my parents sitting with Wes. On the other side of the room, sits a crying Mrs. Milgram with a tear stained shirt and mascara running down her eyes. Every single one of their eyes lock on me. 
    “Stacy,” Larsen says from behind me. Mrs. Milgram looks up, wiping her tears away. Larsen walks up to her. “Come on, it won’t take long… it’s okay.” 
    Why wasn’t she that gentle with me? 
    I sit between my parents and Wes, terrified to know what the two people I’ve looked up to in my life think of me right now. But when my mom leans her head on my shoulder and tells me I’m okay, I know it can’t be that bad.
    “They want to question me,” Wes says, rubbing his hands back and forth on his jeans. 
    Why? Why do they need to interrogate everyone? The crime is solved! It’s done-- it doesn’t need anymore solving! 
    My hand finds Wes’s and I grip onto his, locking eyes. I don’t care if my parents see; this is mine. Wesley Kingston is the man I’ve fallen for and my parents can know that. 
    There’s no need for hiding anymore. 
    “You’ll be okay,” I say. 
    But will he? He’s still falling apart, still hasn’t managed to pick the pieces up… perhaps he’s working on it, though. The thing is, all this will do is push everything he’s worked for away. 
    “But before you go in,” I say, clasping my other hand on his, cupping his in. “Know it was Keller; he’s the one who told her… he told her who we-- who we investigated.”
***
My parents and I sit in silence in my living room until one of them speaks. The tension could be sliced like a cake right about now. 
“You investigated a murder?” Dad exclaims, pacing back and forth. I continue to sit on the couch, staring at the hardwood floor. “That’s why you were at that guidance counselor’s house? Because you needed to know if he did it… not… not because you needed help.” He stops pacing and that’s when the fear really starts to boil inside of me. “You lied to me, Quinn Rose.” 
That night, I find myself alone once again. I’m alone in my room, remembering the foster home and what happened. I think about Keller and how he betrayed me like that… why did he say anything? He should’ve kept his mouth shut. If something happened-- if there’s a law that says we’re supposed to investigate something like this, then I’m done for. Everything I’ve worked for will be for nothing; for no college will ever accept a student with a criminal record. 
If that happens, Keller Avery ruined my life. 
With no phone to occupy my time with, I drift off into a morbid sleep, debating everythingI’ve done so far this summer. Was it for nothing? Did I obsess over something I shouldn’t have. Perhaps my entire life has gone down the drain. 
When morning approaches, the first thing I think of is Keller and I can’t get him off my mind. I wish I could text him… but maybe I shouldn’t.
I crawl out of bed and find the shower, turn the nozzle on and step into the scorching hot area, letting the water pour on me. 
What have I done to deserve this? I’ve obeyed everything… I’ve always listened. I’ve always done the right thing, always gone to things I should… even if I don’t want.
But Brandon’s funeral is today and I don’t know if I can go. I know I should, but I’m the sole reason he’s gone. I’m the reason Mr. Milgram killed him; why he shot him. 
If Dad never took my phone away, I’d go to Wes with this. I’d tell him everything that’s wrong. I can’t go to his house uninvited… I’ve learned it’s not a good thing after doing it various times. 
But I’ve found out that old habits don’t just seem to go away. 
So after I take a shower, I slide on my black dress once again and drive to Wes’s house without saying a word to my parents. 
Perhaps it’s best if I leave them in the dark. 
When I arrive at his house, his mother opens the door. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since the first day I showed up at his house. 
“You’re Wes’s friend, aren’t you?” she says, welcoming me in. She’s wearing a pair of black dress pants with a black shaw to go over her tank top. She seems so much better; with a face gaining color back and eyes that have begun to grow into a brown instead of red. Her ashy brown hair sits on her head in a bun, showing she’s actually taken effort in her appearance… she’s changing. “Oh, he’s here somewhere… just head upstairs, okay? I’m sure he’s up there somewhere.”
So I listen and head up, searching for him. 
“Wes?” I say, knocking on his door. But when I knock, the door creaks open. 
There he is, bent over his dresser, rummaging through his clothes. The thing is, he doesn’t have a shirt on. Instantly, my eyes lock on him. He’s beautiful… even if he doesn’t realize it. 
But what I realize is, is that I’m invading and I jump back, slamming the door. 
“Quinn? What the hell?” he says, opening the door, sliding on his black polo. “You have really got to stop showing up like that.” Yeah. I know. He rubs his shaky hands through his hair, sighing. 
I’m sorry, I want to say, yet for some reason I don’t. For whatever reason, I don’t feel as if I need to apologize to him… like I’m simply comfortable enough to know he already knows I’m sorry. 
“So you’re going to the funeral?” I say. 
“Yeah,” he says, stepping back into his room, allowing me to know it’s okay to proceed. I walk in, examining the room. Nothing has changed since the last time I was here. The brown sheets are still messily lying on his bed, his window sill is full of trash and old food, and dirty clothes lay scattered across the room. “My mom’s making Grace and I.” 
He sits on his bed. 
“But at least she cares… before she wouldn’t have even known when the funeral is,” he says. So I am right. She is changing-- she’s beginning to care again. I guess what they say is right; time heals everything. 
“You wanna go together?” I ask, leaning against the doorway. 
He looks up and smirks. 
“Like a date?” He snorts. “A date to a funeral.”
No! No, that’s not what I mean… that’s not what I mean at all. 
“I… I just don’t want to be alone,” I say. “You know, since I’m the literal reason he died.” 
    Woah. I’ve never said that out loud… never let the words seep through my lips. I’ve never admitted it out loud. 
    “Then don’t go!” he suddenly exclaims, making me jump back in fear. What’s wrong with him? I-I didn’t do anything. “Sorry,” he says, rubbing his face with hands that shake vigorously. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 
***
    We arrive at the funeral, stepping out of my car. Wes decided to ride with me and his sister has stayed with their mother. 
    The second we step out, everyone’s eyes lock on us. There’s a line wrapping around the building and once the word gets around that I’ve arrived, all everyone wants to do is stare at me. 
    How do they even know? They can’t. It’s not possible… unless… unless someone told someone else and I know how that goes. If one person finds out, everyone does. 
    The question is, who?
    “Come on,” Wes says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Just ignore them, okay?” 
    I find Mia. She’s standing next to Riley, the girl who betrayed her, and whispering words into her ear, probably explaining how I’m the entire reason Brandon is dead. 
    “Hey,” Keller’s voice says from behind me. Keller. Keller Avery. He let me down. Perhaps he’s the reason everyone knows. He… he lost all of my trust. He knows. Mia had to of told him. 
    “Why’d you do it?” I say, straying away from Wes’s grasp. “Why’d you tell Larsen? That’s my business.” Wes’s hand grazes my arm, but I yank away. 
    “Quinn,” Keller says, stepping back. “It was an interrogation… I couldn’t lie.” 
    So it was him. Good God.
    Keller Avery. 
    “Who the hell else did you tell, huh? Everyone in this damn city knows, Keller. You didn’t have the right to tell anyone!” I yell, my voice cracking. Is this really what everything has come to? I’m not sugar coating it anymore. 
    My own guidance counselor raped Maeve Kingston, took pictures of her after drugging her in her house, almost raped me if I didn’t get out when I did, my best friend told everyone Brandon is dead because I told Milgram what I thought he did, Mia knew everything and didn’t tell a single soul, and I’m on the verge of being arrested for tampering with damned evidence. It wasn’t my fault. I’m the one who found the evidence! 
    “Quinn,” Wes says, grabbing my arm. “Quinn, come on.” But his grip isn’t strong. If anything, it’s the weakest I’ve ever felt. I can feel his boney fingers wrap around my arm, trying to stop me from expressing what I need to.
    “You’re a bitch,” I say, turning around. 
    With that, I get back in my car and slam the door. I can’t stay here. I need to leave. 
    I ram my key into the ignition, but what stops me is what I see in front of me-- Stacy Milgram and Chief Larsen.