Chapter 17
“Chelsea, sweetheart, calm down and explain what you’re talking about,” Peter gently tells me.
“It stinks in here,” I cry. I'm seriously in shock. Why is Amy lying near my Mac book? More importantly, why is her throat slit and her skull dented? Who did this? Why did they do this? Why can’t I just get up? Amy’s dead, things need to be done. The proper people need to be notified. Wake up Chelsea! Don’t just sit there. Get up, walk away, and call the police. Someone could still be here. Though, it isn’t likely. A pungent stench is coming from her body. The poor woman had probably been dead for a few days. Well, I can’t actually be sure. Most of my knowledge comes from law and order SVU.
“Chelsea, what do you mean?” he asks. His gentle voice startles me. I’ve forgotten that I’m on the phone.
“Peter, I need you to come here. Peter,” I begin to sob. The tears come streaming down my face unchecked. Nothing is stopping them.
“Chelsea, what’s happened?” he asks.
“Someone killed Amy,” I cry. And suddenly, Peter’s reassuring me that everything is all right. He tells me to take deep breaths and call the police. Part of me is amazed. Is Peter really eighteen? He acts so much older. I guess he had to grow up quick since the cancer plagued him. But still. Adam would have cursed and told me that he had no idea what I was supposed to do. But my Peter always has the answers.
“I can’t deal with this.” It’s the truth, why admit it. Between the fight, Peter and my almost break up, and the argument with Carmen, I’m already an emotional wreck. Add in a murder of someone that has been so kind to me, I’m not sure if I can even breathe again.
“Chelsea, I’m coming,” Peter announces and then the phone goes dead. I still can’t move no matter how much I need to. It may sound ridiculous but nothing at this moment could knock the feeling back in my body. It is as if my muscles have decided to take a nice long nap. But my mind, oh no, it just goes a mile a minute. But it has one sentence on repeat, I need Peter. I need Peter. He can make it all better.
“Chelsea,” the voice is gentle, soothing, and filled with warmth.
“Peter,” I sob.
“Yes, sweetheart. Come on. Let me get you out of here,” he gently says. I look up into his worried brown eyes, and for some reason, his compassion is what undoes me even more. I begin to cry over and over again. He leans down and scoops me up into his arms. His scent is familiar and because his arms are around me, I feel safe. My cell phone begins to ring. I am still clutching it. Since I’m not exactly in the mood to talk, I don’t make a move to answer the call. Peter carries me to my bedroom. He closes the door behind me and gently places me on the bed. I stare up at him and somehow gain a bit of sanity.
“Peter, did you see?” I ask.
“Yes, sweetheart, I saw her,” he says calmly. My angel sits beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders.
“Did you call the cops?” I ask.
“Yes. Chelsea, they are here. They came ten minutes ago,” he tells me.
“I didn’t notice,” I admit right before Uncle Kenny walks in. He takes one look at me and frowns.
“Hysterical?” he asks.
“Maybe shock,” Peter clarifies.
“Maybe both,” I interject as my uncle sits on my other side and places a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“Everything will be all right, Chelsea,” he assures me.
“Amy’s gone,” I say. “It won’t be all right.”
“I know. The officers need to catch whoever did this. Can you tell them what you saw?” he asks.
“I saw what you did, a dead woman. What more could I offer?”
“Give me a minute alone with her,” a female voice requests. To my horror, Peter and Kenny both leave. A woman with beautiful chocolate brown skin and a Bob holds a note pad. She’s in a police uniform and her face is clear and free of makeup. She sits in the love seat and looks at me.
“Can you tell me what happened?” she asks.
“My Mac book was missing so I called Eliza. She said that she didn’t take it. She told me to check to make sure that nothing was missing in her room. I fell asleep so didn’t check until this morning. I…”
“It’s okay,” she says as fresh tears fall down my face.
“She’s gone,” I cry. I just can’t believe the woman that had been so nice to me was dead. She made the mansion so appealing. Now life would surely be different without her.
“I know. Do you know who would have hurt her?” she asks.
“The person that’s been stealing from my grandmother,” I say bluntly. It’s bold of me to point fingers with no proof. Sometimes staying oblivious isn’t the best option. Sticking my head in the sand didn’t stop the thief from taking items from my grandmother. It’s weird how my Mac book is going to be listed as one of the stolen items.
“What do you mean?” the detective asks. She’s friendly enough that I do nothing more than look into her eyes and my entire story springs from my mouth. She heard everything, including how Adam was trying to coerce me into forking over twenty-five thousand dollars. Regretfully, I let the minor detail about me accidentally stabbing him free as well. The detective gives nothing away. She continues taking notes as I talk. My uncle Kenny cautiously walks in a few moments after the entire story is finished and by the outraged look on his face, he has probably heard the part involving Adam.
“Adam tried to blackmail you?” His blue eyes fill with disgust and concern all at once.
“Yes. I almost lost Peter over it,” I mutter. My uncle sighs and stares at the detective who is studying our interaction with quiet interest.
“Sounds like you have a thief on your hands,” she casually says. My uncle clenches his fists.
“Whoever it is hasn’t killed anyone. Why did this person hurt Amy?” His quiet anger is hanging in the air. Uncle Kenny had stuck his head in the sand as well. Maybe if we had been more vigilant the criminal would have been caught. Poor grandmother. She had been the only one besides Uncle Vincent to take any of this seriously.
“Chelsea, Adam’s in prison. So it’s unlikely that he did this. Can you think of anyone else that would have done this?” Right before I can answer my grandmother flies into the room. I launch myself at her and wrap her in a tight embrace. It’s the shock that makes me do this. Her arms are just as tight as mine. Inhaling her floral scent makes me want to cry but no tears fall. I think that I’ve done enough crying for a year.
“Did the other girls come with you?” she demands as we break apart. I shake my head. Grandmother is so fragile. Although it’s mid-summer she wears a white cashmere sweater. Otis is behind her and we simply nod at one another.
“I can’t believe this happened,” I say.
“Neither can I. Chelsea, why don’t you change your clothes and take a bag? Maybe you can drive back up to Connecticut,” she suggests. The thought of being away from Peter sends panic rushing through me. He can make this better. Although Eliza and Danny are great friends, those girls aren’t who I need right now.
“I can’t. Peter,” is all I say. Grandma nods in understanding.
“Then, he goes as well. I will be there shortly. We all can use some time away from all of this,” Grandma says. She’s giving into my demands because I’m a mess right now. I never thought that this would be possible, but I’m actually thankful to the woman. I walk over to my closet and pull out a sun dress. Dressing up isn’t the purpose. A dress is just the quickest thing to change into. Although there is no blood on my skin, I still want to shower. But the police probably won’t allow that. After changing in the bathroom, I walk out to find the kind detective going through my suitcase. She has the piece of luggage on the bed and is taking everything out with precision.
“I’m sorry Chelsea. I have to rule you out as a suspect,” she kindly explains. I nod in understanding and shift from foot to foot. After she’s done making a huge mess, she nods and I repack everything.
“Thank you,” I sa
y, knowing this very woman puts herself in danger to help people. She is the embodiment of strength. I wonder if I’ll be like that someday.
“Chelsea, you don’t have to thank me. I’ll call you if I have any more questions,” she says before I leave the room.
Peter is standing in front of the mansion and quickly grabs my bag. He wraps me in a hug and kisses me on the forehead. It appears that he realizes how close of a call it was. I could have been dead.
“You’re all right,” he whispers. “You’re all right.”
“Yes,” I say. “I am all right.” Just being around him makes me stronger somehow. It’s as if all of his strength is leaking into me.
“Your grandmother told me about the plan,” he says softly. I release him to get a closer look at his face. He looks vulnerable.
“And?”
“And I’m surprised you wanted me to come with you. Chelsea, I was a jerk yesterday. I’m sorry,” he says.
“Apology accepted. Besides, I can’t hold it against you. Not after what I’ve done,” I remind him. I cringe as I remember kissing Adam.
“Still, you needed me and I wasn’t there for you,” Peter says, his dark eyes growing pensive.
“You are here right now, Peter. That’s the most important thing,” I say. He gently kisses my lips and the clearing of a throat makes me spin around. Otis glares at us.
“Your Grandmother wants to see you,” he says. I frown at Otis, thinking that he seems deathly cold for what just happened. I guess I can’t win his approval.
“Okay,” Peter says to dispel the awkwardness. Otis takes my bag and walks over to the stretch limo. Great! He’s driving us up. Peter and I make our way back into the house to see officers moving about. Grandma is standing in the foyer. She sighs at us.
“Peter, I’ve spoken to your mother. She understands why you have to come with us. I sent Sandra to your house to pick up your clothes. Enjoy the ride,” she says before handing Peter an American express gift card. He frowns down at it.
“You shouldn’t have,” he quickly says.
“Happy early graduation!” Grandmother says before gesturing for us to leave. We walk out of the house, go past the police cars and to the limo, which is parked on the street. After we climb in and sit in the back, Peter blinks at all of the luxury.
“Wow!” Peter whispers. I giggle.
“It’s hard to get used to,” I admit.
“Chelsea, are you going to Minnesota?” he asks.
“I’m supposed to be going for Thanksgiving break,” I respond, shuttering at the fact that Teresa would be there as well. It feels like long ago when Tiller revealed that he’s in love with my former best friend. Sometimes forgetting about it all is the best thing.
“But, after that?” he presses.
“I’m not sure. I admit, it’s going to be difficult living far away from you. But I figure that we can make it work. I’m enlisting, either way.” Seeing Amy’s lifeless body on the ground has filled me with purpose. I need to fight, protect, and make a difference in the world. Maybe I will be an asset to the country. Nothing would bring me more meaning than protecting American citizens.
“That’s what you need to do?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I support you a hundred percent. I, of all, people know that life is too short,” he tells me. It’s obvious that part of him doesn’t want me to enlist. But what other choice does he really have? If I’m guessing, Peter would much rather support me than lose me.
“I’m sorry that you got dragged into the whole Adam thing,” I say softly. Peter wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes.
“Chelsea, you do make some questionable decisions. You’re very wild. But I do believe that you will learn from your mistakes,” he says with gentleness in his eyes. “Next time you fall in love, just make sure that he isn’t a gambler.”
“Oh, I don’t plan on falling in love again,” I tell him. All is silent except for the hum of the motor. It’s apparent that for once Peter Jacobs is actually speechless.
“Oh?”
“Peter, I have a perfectly good guy right here,” I admit. Now, this is embarrassing. What if he doesn’t feel the same?
“Oh? Well, that’s a good thing that we are on the same page then,” he responds before kissing my forehead. Apparently, feeling perfectly relaxed causes fatigue to come over me. I yawn.
“I feel so sleepy,” I yawn.
“Just sleep, Chelsea,” he softly whispers and I do.
Oddly enough, the absence of the sound of the engine wakes me up. I glance around and see that Peter’s sound asleep. He looks so peaceful that I gently kiss his cheek before peering out the window. We are parked in front of a blue colonial. Otis must be making pit stops. Well, that’s just charming. My bladder is begging for me to find a bathroom. I’m wondering if it would be rude if I go inside when Otis exits the house, his face full of fear. His eye is black and blood trickles down his chin, staining his white buttoned down shirt red. This isn’t good. I shake Peter awake, thinking that he could break up whatever fight that’s happening. Peter’s eyes open and he looks where I’m staring as Otis trips over a step and crashes to the ground. The door swings open and Adam follows behind holding a baseball bat. I glance around and note that this piece of land looks, well, under construction. There isn’t another neighbor in sight. We are absolutely screwed in a big way. I can’t do anything about this. Adam raises the bat and smashes it into Otis’ head. Peter moves without thinking and rushes out of the limo. I have to help somehow. But the only weapon that I have is a bunch of drinks. I pull out a can of gingerale and slide out of the car. Maybe this will work. If it doesn’t, we all might die. That’s the last thought that I have before the world turns black.