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His eyes brightened and a low growl left his lips. “Because I’m not a snitch.”
* * *
Della’s mom pulled up and parked in front of the Shadow Falls Academy sign. Something about this trip back to school felt different to Della. More permanent.
More painful.
It was the right thing, even what she wanted, but it stung knowing she wasn’t wanted at home, knowing those trips home might very well be coming to an end.
She had known her dad would jump at the chance to send her back, but for God’s sake, three minutes after he’d hung up with Burnett he’d told her mom to inform Della to pack her bags.
Her dad’s insistence had sparked an argument between her parents. And given credence to what Della was beginning to suspect.
In the end, her mom relented to her dad’s demands. Della didn’t blame her. Not really.
No doubt her mom was upset about Mr. and Mrs. Chi in addition to being devastated over the fact that her husband was accused of murder. She simply didn’t have much fight left in her.
But it would have been nice if she’d had just a little. A little for her daughter.
Marla, on the other hand, had fought. Not with their parents, but with Della. “Just go. Just go and leave me here to deal with all of this!”
Della had wanted to scream at her sister that she was doing everything she could to help. And that going back wasn’t her idea, but her father’s. He didn’t want her there. She’d longed to say it wasn’t her fault. But it was her fault and she knew that. The reason her father was awaiting trial was because Della had inadvertently gotten the file pulled and the cold case reopened.
But guilt or fault didn’t matter. So she just let Marla think that leaving was Della’s idea.
“Should I come in?” her mom asked, bringing Della back to the present—sitting in the car.
“No.” Della looked up at the iron gate, swallowed the lump that kept appearing in her throat, and reached for the door handle. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.” Or she prayed she would. Prayed her father wouldn’t take away those short visits from her too.
Her mom caught Della by her forearm. “If you would agree to return to your old school, you could stay at home.”
No, I can’t. Della swallowed. She’d spent all morning thinking about her father. Trying to figure out how it could be. How could he know?
“I love it here, Mom,” Della said, hoping the truth sounded in her voice and not the pain. Her mom was hurting enough. She didn’t need to borrow Della’s pain.
“And I love you,” her mom said, tears filling her eyes.
“I love you, too,” Della answered and it came from the bottom of her heart, where it hurt the worst.
“I don’t understand,” her mom’s voice shook. “A year ago, our life was so normal. Now my husband’s being accused of murder, my oldest daughter lives at a school for troubled kids, and my neighbors are being slaughtered. How did life get this way?”
Della reached for her mom’s hand, forgetting about her temperature. Thankfully, her mom didn’t seem to notice, but she pulled it back quickly. “It’s gonna be okay. Dad’s not going to get convicted. I’m almost eighteen, so I would have been leaving the nest soon anyway. Right now this is the best place for me, and … the people who killed Mr. and Mrs. Chi are going to pay. I’ll make sure of that.”
“You?” She blinked and a few tears escaped. “How are you—”
“I mean the police,” she answered in a rush.
Her mom got a sad smile on her lips and wiped her tears from her face. Then she reached out and touched Della’s cheek. “Sometimes you look so different, and other times … I still see the same ol’ Della in there.”
“I’m still here,” Della said, fighting to hold it together while she wondered what her father saw when he looked at her. Did he ever see the old Della? Or did he see the monster in her?
Her mom shook her head. “You’d better go. And study. Your dad said that Mr. James said you were falling behind.”
“I will.” Della grabbed her suitcase from the back and stood by the gate, the cool wind blowing her hair, as she watched her mom drive away—watched until her mom’s gold Malibu was only a speck in the distance.
“You back?” a voice asked, and Della turned to see John, a shape-shifter, walk up.
“Yeah.” She bit her tongue to keep from smarting off that it was none of his business, because that would have just been rude. It wasn’t his fault she was in a piss-poor mood.
