Trust the Killer

Chapter Fifty

I pushed the cooked fish around on my plate with a silver fork, my other hand gripping the seam of my dress in a tight, nervous hold. The sight ahead of me was one for the books. My middle aged parents who lived a simple life in a quiet town seated across from a towering and slim boy who's aesthetic was startlingly contrary to just about everything around him. The deep purple indicators of exhaustion under each eye made no sense in the lively warm colors of my dining room. His blacked out ensemble was was like an accidental blot of ink on a crisp, clean page. His somber demeanor was careless in comparison to the mannered posture of my parents.
Wyck spoke finally, I winced in anticipation. "For the same reason Ava is interested in social work. I want to make a difference in someone's life. Her position is much more admirable, though. She can help people before they're life goes- sour. Before they'd run into someone like me... a criminal investigator that is." There was an underlying truth in his words. It caught my attention, I stared at the side of his face trying to unravel the message in his answer before he continued, "As for Wyck, it's just a stupid nickname, there's nothing to it." He waved his hand dismissively.
"Interesting." My mom responded. I relaxed when I heard the genuine sound in her voice, like she was impressed with his response. I shouldn't have been shocked, I could always tell Wyck was smart, it seemed as though he could talk himself out of or into anything. "So what would you be doing? Detective work?"
       "I haven't decided." Wyck responded, I could tell he didn't have an answer for her, he didn't know the curriculum of a criminal investigation major or the careers that came of it. I wasn't sure if it was even an official major but my parents seemed to buy it and that's all that mattered. I knew Wyck was being sarcastic when he mentioned enrolling into college earlier on the porch, I envied his ability to make jokes at a time like this. I could barely keep my hands still as my entire body pulsated with anxiety, it would be impossible for me to swallow a single bite of my dinner, my throat was so tight I could barely get down a sip of water.
I should have been more careful. If I hadn't gone to that stupid party, nobody would know Wyck existed and I wouldn't be here. I couldn't even make the excuse of my friends wondering why I wasn't around as often, they always knew I was introverted. But I had to go, I had to prove a point to Wyck and to myself that I still had the power and freedom to make a decision for myself, attend a party and get messily drunk. And here is where it landed me. More stress, more lies. What I really should have never done was go on that trip, speak to Oliver, I shouldn't have left that night and walked into the store. But how should I have known it would entirely uproot my life? That one extra moment I had before I nearly missed the plane, the seat I chose, the hotel room I was assigned to, the direction I walked after after storming out of the mayflower that night.

     That night.

     Every small choice I made determined the outcome of the rest of my life. My life, it wasn't mine anymore. It's in the hands of the boy sitting next to me having a conversation with my parents. I tuned back into their words, my dad was asking him the same questions he had asked me earlier, cross examining.
       "You two met in Seattle?"
       "Right." Wyck responded matter of factly.
"Is that where you're from?" My mom cued in.
"No." Wyck began. This wasn't something we had discussed earlier today, he told me not to worry about major details, that he would just give my parents the information that was under Jeremy Davis. "Born in Maine." Died in Vancouver. Jeremy Davis was a 38 year old who passed away in his hotel room on a business trip to Canada after a night of drinking and taking an accidentally lethal dose of headache medication. That's the only thing I could recall out of Wycks explanation of identity theft, and how Jeremy Davis became a victim after death. 'Listen, he's dead. What does he need a social security number for? Reuse, reduce, recycle.' Wyck had told her.
"I was in Seattle for a summer road trip with friends, it was a sort of goodbye trip since I moved to Louisiana. It was fate I met Ava there." His voice took on a dreamy tone at the end, mocking the situation.
       "Do you have family here or something?" My dad pressed.
       "Family? They're still in Maine."
        My dad nodded, listening. "So, why Louisiana?"
       My head snapped back and forth between the two of them as if I was watching the climax of an argument, though they were both calm.
       Wycks eyebrow popped up, a mannerism he always had when he spoke. I was impressed by the unfaltering eye contact he was able to hold with my dad, like he didn't have a worry in the world. "School... I was given a scholarship." With that he gave me a pointed look. We had discussed earlier that Wyck was here to pursue a job offer in construction, an easy to explain and common career. With Wycks expression my accidental whim of agreement when my parents asked if he was in school threw a new twist in the story.
"A scholarship? Amazing. Ava had a fully free ride as well. We've always been proud of her great skill in prioritizing school." My dad spoke with underlying meaning, clinking the end of his fork on the table once.
Wycks brows knitted together and a slight smile grew on his face. I leaned forward to bring a glass of water to my lips, distracting myself from the devilish look on Wycks face. "Oh, don't worry, sir. I'll try not to be too big of a distraction." He snickered.
I chocked gently, put down my glass with a thud and cleared my throat. My father blinked once with parted lips, clearly surprised that he continued to fail at intimidating 'Jeremy'.
My mother chuckled, "I guess that's why Ava was so unresponsive while she was in Seattle. I still can't believe she didn't mention a word about you!" My mom was more humorous than serious with her words.
Wyck looked at me again with a smirk and shrugged. If only she new she'd been speaking to Wyck the whole time.
"Like he said hunny, Ava was just making sure he wasn't some kind of criminal. Since he definitely looks like one." My dad began laughing dramatically after his insult.
"Dad!" I finally spoke, surprising myself as I felt offended on Wycks behalf. As well as on edge wondering what Wycks reaction to that might be.
Wyck tilted his head and blew out a scoff with two raised brows, "Well..." he began to respond but there was an odd twinge in his voice as his smirk became an awkward smile, he paused before doubling over and began laughing, leaned over his barely eaten plate of food. One of his elbows moved to rest on the table as he began rubbing his eye with his thumb and middle finger. Wycks tall and thin shoulders shook as he continued to laugh. He looked up at me with slightly pink eyes from the pressure of his fingers and spoke, "Sorry that one got me." He spoke through his laugh breaking the fourth wall, I knew he was directing the comment at me about the irony of my fathers insult. I smiled meekly back, nervous that my parents would somehow see through his illusive words.
"Don't be rude." My voice was small as I spoke to my father.
I saw in my peripheral a smirk linger on Wycks lips, pleased I had defended him.