The Return

Chapter Eight

"He's not on Twitter, not on Tiktok and his Facebook profile hasn't been updated since the incident." She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

She couldn't imagine a life living under a rock. A life that didn't involve her social media presence. She wasn't one of those people who posted content every waking moment, she already built a reasonable enough following. Sufficient for brands to reach out for collaborations here and there. Enough to make some extra cash. "He couldn't have disappeared. He's the only lead we have on this case."

"Detective Steinfeld." Kyle placed a lazy smile on his face. He was laying on his stomach propped up on his elbows. His computer is open by the head of the bed to a website detailing the gruesome facts of March 3rd, 2019. He sprawled a pile of newspapers by the device, each one speaking exclusively and extensively of the day of Scarlett Leighton's passing. "Have you thought of what you wanna become?"

She hadn't.

"And I don't wanna hear the cliché Doctor, Lawyer thing. What do you really want?" The slow rumble of his voice turned her to mush.

What did she really want? Counselling didn't seem too bad. She enjoyed her sessions with Dr. Williams. He was conventional, dependable, and always ready to listen even when she wasn't ready to talk.

She rolled onto her side facing him. "I want... to get to the bottom of this case." She sat up. "Can't you call some of the seniors he went to school with, weren't any of them mentioned in the article?"

"Maybe we're looking at things the wrong way?" He rolled off the side of the bed in one swift move.

"What do you mean?" She reached for her pillow and clutched it to her chest.

It was dark out. Her watch read 7:30 P.M. Georgia and Vaughn were long gone.

"No kid is going to undergo that level of trauma and wanna talk about it. Their parents wouldn't even let them." She knew her parents wouldn't. Georgia would throw a fit if she knew what story Holly was digging into. "In the official police report, there was mention of a teacher on duty that night. He was the chaperone."

"Yeah, I saw that, he was the History teacher at the time." He paced her room.

"Think he'll be easier to get a hold off?"

"I hope." He whipped his phone out.

According to a source, Scarlett was wildly popular. She had friends that would trail her like a posy. That easily meant there must have been at least one opportunity for undue influence.

Other sites claimed that Scarlett was top of her class. She didn't have time for friends, but always made time for her high school Sweetheart; golden boy Malcolm Kent.

Holly could tell why reporters latched onto him. The morning after her passing was the biggest game of his high school career. It was the game that would determine what colleges would be rooting for him. He wasn't supposed to show up, to strike a home run, to lead his team to victory as if his girlfriend hadn't died.

"Will you be joining her?"

Kyle looked up from his phone. "Your mother in Miami." She clarified.

"And miss out on an opportunity to fight crime with Lincoln Lane's own bad girl?" There he went again with the Goddamn label.

She frowned.

"This is why I don't do labels. I've been there a day and I'm already boxed in." He probably had a category for all the girls in his life. Claudia Jonathan would be the popular girl. Didn't his last article say she was most likely to win prom queen? Heaven would be the good girl like her name implied she was the closest thing to the pearly gates Lincoln Lane had.

"It's not necessarily a bad thing. It means you're you, a wild card." He was digging himself a deeper grave.

"What if I'm a good girl in disguise?" She tossed her pillow at him. He dodged it easily.

"Please, you got detention on your first day. Good girls don't get detention."

They also don't fantasize about undressing the lead editor for the school's newspaper.

"I don't like labels. Can you respect that, please?"

He nodded.

"I gotta know, what's your deal?" He dragged out her desk chair and whirled till he was facing her. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He eyed her suspiciously.

"Are you always this nosey?" She pulled his laptop onto her legs.

"I'm a journalist."

"An editor." She corrected.

"Potato tomato."

"And no, there's no story." She was a horrible liar.

"Err...Anyway, about my mom," He rubbed the back of his neck. "She made her choice. She knew she had a family in Illinois and she up and left us for work. I'll be here. My Dad's not getting any younger, he could use the help."

"You're an only child?"

He nodded.

They lapsed into a weighted silence with Kyle on his phone and Holly on his laptop.

She scrolled past sites they already visited. All she needed was another name. Another clue. Anyone that could connect her to the victim.

"Shit," Kyle hissed, a myriad of expressions playing out on his face. "Guess who was on duty the night of Scarlett's death?" He turned the screen of his phone to her. 

"Principal Jenkins." Her blood ran cold in her veins.

He had to knowsomething about Malcolm Kent.