“Any breakthroughs yet?”
Alex sighed at Mercer’s question as they approached the latter’s locker. Ever since they had retrieved Sumner’s pages from Shadows Manor last week, they had been trying to figure out their meanings, but they were coming up short. Now it was the following Monday, and they still had less than zero leads.
“No.” Alex finally told him, while Mercer grabbed some books from his locker and slid them into his backpack. “I understand now why our anonymous friend wanted us to figure it out. If we’re having this much trouble solving it, I can’t imagine what they thought of them.”
“What about the Streetcar thing?” Mercer stated, slinging his backpack over his good shoulder. “Didn’t you say you knew something about a play with that name?”
“A Streetcar Named Desire,” he nodded. “But even if that’s the reference Sumner used to nickname someone, we have no idea where to start.”
“The notes said ‘she’ though.”
“The ‘shes’ of Streetcar are Blanche DuBois and Stella Kowalski, I looked it up. But seeing as we don’t know anyone with those names, we have nowhere to start.”
Bridge and Abram, who had gone to the cafeteria to grab some food for everybody, appeared around the corner of the hall and found them straightforwardly next to Mercer’s locker. They passed their friends some hashbrowns, which were gratefully taken by hungry hands.
“No progress must be contagious.” Bridge added, overhearing their conversation. “The feeling of helplessness must be too.”
“I know.” Alex said, a sigh heaving his lungs for a second time. “I think finding out what the messages mean will help us unravel who is trying to mess with us though.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.” Bridge agreed.
“How?” Abram asked.
“Because I’ve been thinking that they want to understand everything that led up to the cemetery just as badly as they want us to tell the truth about that night.”
Mercer was just about to argue when a familiar face started to saunter up to them.
“Harley?”
The bright redhead smiled at Mercer. He hadn’t seen her since they’d broken up several months ago after the whole Sumner thing went down and Abram had gone away. She looked as beautiful as she always did, with her fair skin and freckles that she shared with her brother. Like usual, her hair was tied back in a ponytail.
“Hey, Mercer. It’s been a while.” She didn’t give him time to react, instead setting her eyes on Abram. “I’ve actually been looking for you.”
“Me?” Abram and Harley had rarely spent time together without Mercer, or even the others, present. “Why me?”
“Well, I’m captain this year and—”
“You’re captain?” Alex interjected, trying his best to hide his surprise.
Back before his transition, Alex had been on the cheer squad and before everything changed, he was the front runner for captain. Of course, he’d left cheering behind but he never figured Harley, who hadn’t been on the team for very long, even when he was on the team, would take his place.
“Weird, right?” Harley laughed, admitting to the abnormality. She focused once again on Abram. “As I’m sure you know, Homecoming is this week and Troy, one of our cheerleaders, sprained his ankle and can’t do the pep rally Friday. I was wondering since you used to be on the team…”
“You want me to cheer in the pep rally?” Abram scoffed. “And learn the routine in four days?”
“I know it’s really short notice and you quit the team after what happened with...Sumner, but we’re really desperate.” She then looked to Alex. “I could use your help too, if you’re interested.”
“Thanks, but I’ve left that part of me behind.” Alex stated.
“Yeah, I don’t know.” Abram shook his head. “Four days—”
“Is plenty of time, I swear. I’ll practice every day with you personally. You always were really quick with choreography and I’d really owe you one.”
Right when Abram was about to politely refuse Harley’s request, Willa turned the corner, noticed their gathering, and ran right over in an instant. “Before you say no, you should remember that I'm on the team and you’ll be helping out your little sister.”
Sighing, Abram finally nodded, quickly giving in. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Willa hugged him in a fit of joy. Harley smiled behind them and said, “Thank you so much, Abram. I’ll meet with you after school in the gym?”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”
As Harley and Willa retreated in a fit of happy hoorays, Alex gave Abram a head tilt and a questioning gaze.
“Are you really sure about doing this? We already have to find out what these notes mean, do you really have time to cheer?”
“I’m not letting this person completely run my life, Alex. It’s just for the pep rally. Plus, it’ll help me take my mind off of everything we’ve got going on. Cheering always did help me focus.”
Alex wanted to protest, but he knew how hard Abram had fallen after the confrontation with Sumner underneath Arclan weeks ago. He’d been so vulnerable and on the verge of another breakdown. Alex, despite still not really knowing what the future held for the two of them together, just wanted Abram to be happy. And if cheering in the pep rally helped him gain some focus in his life, there was no way he was going to stand in his way.
“You’re right. You have a right to your life, we all do.” he finally said.
“We’re no closer to figuring the messages out anyway.” Bridge nodded. “Maybe until we do, we can have some semblance of a life.”
“Maybe. I’m still going to hit the library and look through past yearbooks for clues, for anyone named anything remotely ‘Streetcar’ adjacent. Maybe we’ll get lucky and figure this out before something bad happens.”
Alex left them in the hall, retreating to try and find out what the pages meant and, in correlation, find out who was holding the truth over their heads, worry lacing its way into every emotion he had until they figured out who was trying to get them to tell the world their innermost secrets.
Later that night, as the sky grew to a dark shade of eggplant purple, Athena Wheaton was pulling brownies out of the oven and setting them on the kitchen counter for Kirby and Mercer, whom she had invited over so she could get to know her daughter’s boyfriend.
It made her apprehensive to meet Mercer, given the string of events that came with Kirby’s last boyfriend back in New York. But during dinner, Athena’s worries had been severely lessened upon getting to know the pseudoinfamous Mercer Meadows. It also didn't hurt that he had saved her daughter’s life that night under Arclan. Mercer was a really good kid, and she knew that he was good for Kirby, especially with everything she'd been through.
She poured them a glass of milk each and set them down next to the brownies.
“Thanks for the brownies, Ms. Wheaton.” Mercer beamed as he reached for the dessert. “And thanks for inviting me over for dinner.”
“Yeah, thanks Mom.”
“No problem.” Athena smiled, giving them genuine approval. “So, Homecoming is pretty soon.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna ask this guy in my history class to go with me.” Kirby commented sarcastically.
“Ooh, he’s hot. I say go for it.” Mercer said with a laugh, Kirby joining in quickly.
Athena smiled and shook her head, a knock on the front door breaking all of them from the warm comfort of laughter and good food.
“I’ll be right back.”
She left the teenagers in the kitchen, hastily making her way toward the front of the grandeur house. But when she made her way through the foyer and opened up the door, she was met with the dark of the growing night. She surveyed the street, not seeing obvious signs of anyone, at least not anyone that wanted to be seen. Grabbing the doorknob, she turned to go back inside when her eyes caught on a folded piece of paper on the welcome mat.
Bending down to pick it up, Athena opened
it, a gasp leaving her lips as she read it over. Athena looked back inside, where she could just make out Kirby and Mercer, laughing and feeding each other pieces of a brownie.
Her eyes returned to the letter, then back into the night, frantically seeking the sender with cautious optimism. She was about to call their name, but knew that it was a mistake to do so. They gave her this letter as a warning, a last resort. And she couldn’t just do that to them, for the owner of the letter was someone Athena knew very well, someone the police were very interested in finding.
Because the one who had sent Athena Wheaton the message, was the escaped patient from Arclan Asylum.
The next morning, Abram and Alex lazily walked into the Meadows residence. Mercer and Bridge had asked them to come over after overhearing Mercer’s dads talking to Dagger, who wanted them to go down to the station after school again.
“Good, you’re here.” Bridge said, turning down the small TV in the kitchen.
“So what’s going on?” Abram said, taking a seat at the kitchen island with the others.
“Dagger called my dads this morning, saying that he needed to see us after school today.” Mercer regaled. “Then he mentioned that something was being released to the public this morning that he wanted to talk to us about when we get to the station.”
“It’s too hopeful to think he found something on Sumner.” Abram sighed.
“Guys, I think we should reconsider telling Dagger about the night at the cemetery.”
All eyes clung to Alex, mouths agape with dripping discomfort.
“You’ve lost it, Alex.” Bridge yelled. “This isn't some eye witness report we’re keeping from the police, it’s murder!”
“I’m not saying right now,” Alex sighed, trying to explain himself. “But if we can’t figure out who is doing this to us, we’re going to need a Plan B. We can make a deal with Dagger and—”
“No.” Mercer grunted. “Dagger knows we’re holding something back. Even if he says we have some sort of understanding or plea, murder is murder.”
“Not to mention obstructing justice or whatever it’s called when you withhold as much information as we have.” Bridge said, malice and annoyance sparking on the end of his tongue like firecrackers.
“Just as our saving grace, guys. It wasn’t our fault. Sumner planned everything, every event that went on that night. I don’t want to relive any of it by retelling it, believe me, but if we’re backed into it by our stalker, at least we can do it on our own terms.”
Abram patted his hand tenderly, grazing his knuckles gingerly. “Let’s worry about that later. We won’t have to go that far. We’re gonna figure this out. We have to.”
“Breaking news in the Sumner Shadows case...” The TV’s low voice whispered in quick drawls, taking the reins on their attention.
“Turn it up!” Mercer roared.
Bridge scrambled to find the remote, pounding the volume button until it sounded like they were in the newsroom.
“Police have finally released this image of the escaped patient from Arclan Asylum.”
The screen went to a picture of a young woman instead of the newscaster, a very pretty brunette with blue eyes, eyes that looked like they could hold massive, damaging secrets.
“Police have identified her as Blanche Baxxen, who was sent to Arclan Asylum just shy of two months ago. After further investigating, this image was found.”
A pixelated picture of Blanche and some guy at a bar, with only half of the guys face visible, showed up on the screen. But they could tell that the guy in the photo was Sumner.
“It is believed that the person with Ms. Baxxen is none other than Sumner Shadows.”
The newscaster went on, putting up pictures of both Blanche and Sumner, asking anyone with any information to contact police immediately. They continued to talk about Sumner and Blanche’s possible connection and how it played into her escape from Arclan, while they tried to digest the news.
“This is it,” Alex said with more vigor than he thought possible. “Blanche is the one who helped Sumner. She’s the one Sumner talked to when Hugo saw him the night he went to Straton for help.”
“She’s Streetcar.” Mercer said in disbelief.
“So Blanche was working with Sumner, but broke away once she discovered his psychosis somehow, just like we did.” Abram determined.
“Then how did she end up locked away in Arclan?”
Pondering on Bridge’s question, they knew that this was huge. They knew one piece of the mysterious messages laid between the lines of the pages Sumner left behind, something that was connected to the entirety of why Sumner snapped that night and turned their lives into a parallel universe of normal.
All day at school, each of them had thought about the novelty of finding Blanche Baxxen, while still keeping it from their siblings and romantic interests. A part of all of them was very eager to get to the police station, but once they arrived, nerves overcame them, like some sort of antibody mind control. They had no idea what exactly Dagger wanted out of their visit, and they hoped he’d at least be considerate of their communal state of mind when it came to the news.
Once they were back in the interrogation room they were overly accustomed to, they waited for Dagger to join them, since the room was vacant for the first time since their meetings with Dagger had started.
“Well this is weird.” Bridge scoffed. “Dagger’s always here before we come in.”
“Do you think they found Blanche?” Alex asked.
None of them wanted the police to find Blanche, not at first. Blanche had answers, answers to almost every question the friends had. They had to find her and get some solutions before the police or Dagger got ahold of Sumner’s exaccomplice.
Dagger burst into the room without preamble, looking at them once before taking a seat at the table. They stood frozen, standing in front of their seats and staring at Dagger with uneasy masks of agitation.
“Take a seat,” His voice shook with demand, causing them to pull back their chairs and sit down at the table before he opened up his mouth again. “There’s a lot going on today.”
“Is this about Blanche Baxxen?” Alex quipped, piquing the detective’s interest, judging on the height of the man’s eyebrows.
“Indirectly, I suppose.” He adjusted in his seat. “Once we realized that the patient that escaped Arclan Asylum was Ms. Baxxen, we searched for her face everywhere, and found security footage with Blanche and who we think is Sumner.”
“It is Sumner.” Abram said.
“His face may be half visible, detective, but we’d know it was him if his chin were the only thing we could see.” Bridge stated, folding his arms across his chest, a failsafe sign of his growing irritation.
“No question.” Mercer dipped his head, coinciding with the unanimous declaration.
Dagger fiddled with his fingers, fidgeting his digits while his brain’s gears churned faster and faster. They just sat there, waiting for him to talk again.
“How sure are you?” He cut his eyes at them sharply, stabbing jagged stares in their direction.
“A hundred percent.” They answered all together, proving to the detective just how positive they were.
“Alright, good. That’s one thing covered.” Dagger had a more comfortable look, like he was finally at a place of ease. None of them were surprised when his facade changed to one of stern determination. “Now I have to ask. Do any of you know anything about Blanche Baxxen?”
“Why would we? We’d never heard the name until this morning.” Mercer nervously cracked his knuckles as he spoke.
“I think Blanche was helping Sumner,” Dagger said, telling them what they already knew to be true. “They’d have to be pretty close, don’t you think?”
“Detective, we severed ties with Sumner when he tried to kill us.” Abram told Dagger, starting to get angry at the underlying accusations. “When are you going to get that we don’t have anything to do with him? We don’t know where he is,
we don’t know who he’s been in contact with, and we sure as hell don’t know some girl he tricked into aiding him with whatever plans he concocted in that massive murdering brain of his.”
Abram’s nostrils retracted like a metronome, fed up with these investigations and feeling like he was still connected to Sumner.
“Abe, calm down.” Alex told him in a low voice.
“It’s okay.” Dagger gave a brief grin. “I’m sorry, Abram. I didn’t mean to make you think I’m suspicious of you and your friends helping Sumner. I’m just trying to crack this case, using every angle I can to try and get this thing closed, for good.” He cleared his throat, glancing at the clock, looking back at the four friends. “Which is why I was wondering if you’d continue telling me more about Sumner.”
“That’s why we’re here?” Bridge scoffed.
“You’ve demonstrated the beginning of Sumner’s hidden psychosis,” he nodded. “But you guys forgave him.”
“We told you, he—”
“Gave a compelling apology, I know. Just tell me about the time you brought him back into the group, when you let him back into all of your lives.”
Forgiving Sumner was one of all of their greatest regrets. After the pool drowning incident, they were free from him in every encompassing way. But when Sumner told them why he was the way he was, he’d appealed to their deepest sympathies, and they’d committed a dark crime against their once promising selfworth.
Bridge craned his neck, letting it pop a couple times, eyeing Detective Dagger evenly, while his friends tensed up and shifted uncomfortably in their chairs to await the flashback to their lives.
“Ironically, the day Sumner convinced us to award him a fresh start, we were all by a pool.”
For Sumner’s former best friends, being free of his constant pranks and hijinks proved to be what each of them needed. They all felt free to be themselves again, like before Sumner ever infiltrated their lives upon his arrival to Armor Falls. Freedom was their new adrenaline, and that was all they needed to sustain their newfound cautionless friendship.
They were at the community pool, enjoying some time to themselves. Mercer had brought his girlfriend of almost three months, Harley Krcmaric, who was busy talking to Lissa while they went to grab some snacks from the concession stand, leaving the boys tanning in reclining chairs by the pool.
“This is perfect,” Mercer smiled behind his Ray Bans. “Who knew ending a friendship could make you feel so good?”
“It’s been a perfect summer.” Bridge agreed, flipping down his shades as he ogled the insanely hot lifeguard. “Isn’t that Orry Hatchet from this year’s graduating class?”
“Keep it in your pants, B. Orry doesn’t bark up your tree.” Abram said, reapplying some sunscreen to his vulnerable face.
“He hasn’t met me yet.” Bridge smirked, his mouth upturned on its back in a illustration of selfassurance.
As they laughed off Bridge’s advances, Lissa and Harley sauntered back from the concessions when they all noticed a familiar face through the crowd of random poolgoers. A face they hadn’t seen since that fateful spring break day almost four months ago.
Sumner made his way through the shocked faces of the strangers around him, until he strode up to his former friends and saw the frightened turned irate features that they bore.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Abram leapt up from his chair, inches away from him. “Go home, Sumner.”
“I just want to talk,” He put his hands up in mock protest, shifting his dark eyes to set upon each and every one of them, but finding nothing but disdain caking around their corneas. “Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking for.”
All of them were a little too stunned to say anything at first. But then Lissa cleared her throat and eyed Harley with extreme seriousness.
“Harley, can you give us a sec?”
She gave them a nod, gave a look to Mercer, and went toward the deep end of the pool. A few feet away was a stone patio table, complete with a rainbow umbrella. It was a little more secluded than their current position out in the open where they were already collecting several staggering stares from various onlookers. Lissa led them over to the patio set, everyone trying not to make it too obvious that they were sitting as far away from Sumner as they could on the stone seating.
“I know you guys hate me,” Sumner began, sighing idly. “And honestly, I don’t blame you. But I came here for one reason, and I just want to do that and I’ll be out of your lives. Permanently.” They sat silent, gaping at him and waiting for him to continue, so he took the cue. “Nothing can ever excuse what I put you guys through, but I told my therapist that I at least had to apologize for the things that I’ve done.”
“Therapist?” Lissa stated, mirroring her friends’ looks of misperception.
Sumner nodded, remaining in a total state of calm and peace, which to the friends was an opposite archetype for him. “I’ve been seeing one for a while now, since summer started. I’ve really been trying to focus on my issues and working to move on from them.”
“You expect us to believe this after all the shit you pulled?” Abram scoffed.
Rather than getting mad, Sumner just sighed. “No, not really. But I have.”
“Are we done?” Mercer huffed, sharing Abram’s feelings as he searched for Harley among the crowd.
“Look, I’ve done a lot of terrible things to you guys, with the pranks and everything. After talking my issues over with my therapist, she thinks that I might be bipolar. Getting used to taking meds every day is a little strange.” He laughed a little, trying to ease the tension he felt emanating from them, but when he arrived at the deduction that it was useless, he went on. “And with talking everything over with her, I realized that I kept in a lot of stuff from...when my mom died.”
The bipolar diagnosis made a little bit of sense, though they hadn’t expected it. Even more unexpected was the mention of his mother’s passing. Sumner never used to talk about his mom or her abrupt death. All they really knew about it was that she had passed away here in Armor Falls, when Sumner was six and before he and his father had left New Hampshire to get away from the pain.
They saw tears bubbling to a boil against his dark eyes. For a second, as just a passing thought, they felt sympathy for him. But then they thought better of it and kept their stoic facades pasted on their faces.
“I think I kept a lot in about her death,” Sumner coughed the lump forming in his throat away. “And I think that moving back to Armor Falls brought back too much, way too much for me to handle alone.”
“Sumner—”
“Let me finish, Lissa. I’ve come to the conclusion, and Dr. Croft agrees, that I felt like I had no control over my life with my mom being gone and coming back to town really intensified that. So I found you guys and controlled you. And nothing can justify my actions, but I’m so sorry. I’m so deeply sorry about everything that I’ve done. I may not have any friends anymore, but I think maybe that’s what I need. I just want to move on from the past and finally be happy. That’s what I want for you guys too. I just want you to be happy. And now that you’ve got me out of your lives, you finally can be.”
Sumner looked over to see Harley wading around in the pool, talking to someone from school and laughing. He gestured over to the redhead and then set his eyes on Mercer. “I’m really happy for you and Harley.”
“Thanks.” Mercer grunted, not really committing to the response.
Lissa shifted in her seat, which enabled Abram to wrap his arm around her in an effort to comfort her. Sumner took notice pretty quickly.
“Wait, are you guys—”
“Yeah,” Lissa gave a weak grin. “For a while now.”
They all thought they saw a flicker of rage behind the calm exterior of Sumner’s countenance, but they must have imagined it, because it was swiftly swapped with a huge teethy smile.
“That’s great.” he said. “But listen, I don’t expect your forgiveness, I just wanted
to apologize.” He stood up from the table and smiled nervously. “I guess I should head back to Sunshine Shack.”
“I’m sorry, to what?” Bridge asked, his brows wobbly with weak interest.
“Sorry,” Sumner laughed. “I’m talking about Shadows Manor. It’s this little code I came up with that I do sometimes, coming up with the opposite of what I actually mean. I need to work on that too because my therapist says it’s not helping my bipolar symptoms. Anyway, I’d say I’ll see you around, but, you know.”
He left them sitting there at the patio table, intending to leave the swimming pool, but Lissa beckoned him back.
“Sumner, wait.”
While he turned around, her friends gaped at her with new shock.
“Liss, what are you doing?” Abram whispered harshly.
“All that stuff about his mom, it makes sense.”
“And if he is bipolar, he can’t help that.” Bridge said with shaky confidence.
Sumner was beginning to walk back over to them while Mercer hurriedly argued. “He’s a liar.”
“He’s sick.”
“Exactly.”
“I mean clinically.” Lissa told him. “And he lost his mom. I can’t even comprehend how I’d react to that.”
“Same. Who knows how I’d be if I lost either of my parents.” Bridge nodded.
He was in front of them again, looking uncomfortable just standing there like a defendant in front of a very biased jury.
“Probation.” Lissa decided, seeing a nod from her friends in her peripheral. “If we ever hung out again, you’d have to prove to us that you wouldn’t ever treat us like before.”
Changing from confusion to astonishment, Sumner scoffed in spite of himself. “You’d actually do that, give me a practically millionth chance?”
The friends gazed at one another. Trying to mend things with Sumner was complicated, especially with how liberating their lives had been since they’d ditched the rocky friendship. But if Sumner was suffering from bipolar disorder, they owed it to him, and the late Marjorie Shadows, to see if he really was attempting to rehabilitate himself.
“Maybe we’ll hang out next week as a trial run.” Lissa gave him a beaming smile, full of hope.
A glowing glaze over his now cheerful face, Sumner smiled at them. “I can’t thank you enough. But I really should get going. See you next week?”
They shook their heads positively as he faded into the sea of people, while his soon to be best friends again wondered if they were making a monumental mistake they'd live to lament in the years to come.
Alex finished retelling the memory and Mercer stood up from his chair, his eyes wide with recognition.
“That’s it.”
Joining the friends, Dagger sent a look of displaced understanding at Mercer. “What’s it?”
“Detective, can we be excused for today?” he urged.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s good.” Mercer grunted. “It’s just,” he craned his head, thinking of an excuse. “We’re in the pep rally Friday and we really need to practice. Are we good?”
He could tell by the detective’s expression that he didn’t exclusively trust this claim, but Dagger just let out a sigh and stood up, delivering a positive reaction.
“Alright, you can go. I’ll talk to you all soon.”
“Thanks, detective.”
Mercer almost ran out of the door, provoking his friends to ponder the reasons for his earlier exclamation while he beckoned them to hurry up and follow him outside. It wasn’t until they were down the sunset lit street and away from the police station, in a pretty secluded side street, that they confronted their friend.
“What was that all about?” Alex folded his arms over each other as the chilly evening air blew over him.
Bridge snickered. “Whatever it is, we skipped out before Dagger started his usual rambling, so I say bravo.”
“During our remembrance with Dagger, I got an idea and I think I might be onto something.”
“About what?” Abram asked.
“The other message Sumner left behind.” Mercer said. “When we forgave Sumner that day at the pool, he told us about his opposite code thing when he described Shadows Manor.”
“So?”
“So, what if that’s what he did with the second page? We haven’t been able to find anything about anyone with the name Oscar Runner. Maybe it’s because we have the wrong one.” His eyes were lit up and his heart was slathered in excess amounts of excitement. “I’ve watched enough award shows with my dads to know that, since the Oscars are for movies, the equivalent to it is its TV counterpart, the Emmys.”
“Hold on.” Abram breathed slowly. “So we should look for Emmy Runner?”
Mercer scrunched up his face. “Not what I was thinking exactly, but that’s an option we should explore. But I think both names are part of the code.”
“And the opposite of runner is what, stander?” Bridge scoffed.
“I was thinking of a more popular last name, B.” Mercer stared at them with extra vitality, finally sure of himself. “We don’t need to be looking for Oscar Runner.” he shook his head. “We need to be searching for Emmy Walker.”
The evening sun was starting to set behind lilac clouds and dusk initiated its process to the sky when Straton Jacobs got back from the gym. He was half surprised, half notatall when he found the dorm room empty. A part of him envied how easily Hugo was able to make friends. Straton did okay, but he was too focused on school to go out drinking during the week.
Setting down his gym bag, he absentmindedly turned on his TV while he got ready to hop in the shower. Some news report droned on in the background, grabbing a towel when he heard the news program mumble something about Sumner Shadows.
“What the hell?”
He careened toward the television, seeing what looked like a repeat report, talking about a new development in the case involving Sumner. Straton was about to just go shower and catch the report later but a face popped up on the screen, one he immediately recognized, as they talked about the escaped patient from Arclan Asylum that caused a gasp to fall from his dropped jaw.
“Blanche?”
Upon continued listening of the news, he learned that the police believed that Blanche Baxxen had helped Sumner in hiding in Armor Falls. Then they unveiled a gritty, foggy photo of Blanche and Sumner at a bar.
Straton grabbed his phone, needing desperately to contact someone else who knew Blanche Baxxen when a series of erratic knocks ricocheted across the surface of his door.
He raced to open it, revealing a face he hadn’t seen since before his summer semester at Heartmyth had started.
“Sterling.”
The young woman fell into his arms, basically collapsing against his currently sore frame. Sobs erupted forth from her nude shaded lips, concern and worry tangling up around Straton’s already accumulating emotions. When they parted, Straton stared down at his younger sister with wide scared irises as her eyes reddened with previous sentiment.
Sterling Jacobs fixed her newly dyed honey brown hair, wiping her face so it was free of stray tears. “You heard?” she ultimately spoke, her voice teetering with unstable uncertainty.
He nodded lightly. “Just now.”
Sterling shook her head. “This person the news and police are describing, this isn’t Blanche. You know that.”
“I know. How did she even meet Sumner?”
“I wish I knew,” she cried again. “It must have happened during this summer, following graduation. But she wouldn’t do this, Straton. She wouldn’t help someone who tried to commit murder.”
He inhaled an intense breath, exhaling the carbon dioxide twice as hard. “Dagger is sure to bring us in for questioning soon. Or in my case, further questioning.”
“What? You’ve been interrogated by the police for the Sumner Shadows case?” Sterling’s cries quit instantaneously after learning of her brother’s apparent criminal involveme
nt. “What’s going on?”
Straton heaved heavy yet again, preparing to tell his little sister about the night an attempted murderer dropped by his dorm room, and all the encapsulating events that had aspired from the bloody late night visitation from the infamous Sumner Shadows.
15
A VESSEL AND HER SKELETONS