Page 68 of False Idols

“Our problems don’t exist because of Nevaeh.”

“I don’t care! I hate her!” My mother explodes and I hear her throw something onto the floor, it’s glass, whatever it is. I hear it shatter. “She should have been the one to die last night, not a good boy like Jordan. It should have been her! She should have died, not Carrie! It should have been her!” My mother’s scream ends ragged and raw and I sigh.

“Are you going to tell me what happened at Morris Hall?” I ask, even though I could just as easily search it. If I do that, then I’ll have to call her back. It’s better to stay on the line with her for now. Besides, my mother is well connected enough in Bloom that I know she knows something that won’t be in any search engine. The police chief came to our Fourth of July cookouts and my parents went to school with half the force.

If there’s anything important to know, she’ll know it.

My mother takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly before she begins to speak. “The Reaper chased that girl to Morris Hall. He tried to get in, but she fought him off. The cops arrived in time. Everyone is talking about that. What they don’t know is that for the first time ever we know what The Reaper looks like.”

There. That was the insider knowledge my mother was going to deliver on. Holy fucking shit.

“They got him on security camera, didn’t they?”

“Yes, the dorm’s security system was able to film about five minutes of footage. That and Nevaeh’s a true eyewitness now. From what I heard, she was at the station all night helping them compile a sketch.”

I stop walking. “Where is she now?”

“How should I know, I’m not her keeper, Beau.”

“You know if she’s been released. Did they let her go?” I press.

“I don’t know why you’re so concerned with her. She left you to rot in prison while pretending she was perfect for four years.”

“I’m not concerned, I’m obsessed. Learn the difference. Because Nevaeh isn’t going anywhere, mother. Not when she’s going to be your daughter-in-law.”

“What are you talking about?”

My mother is a fucking dead end. If she knows where Nevaeh is she isn’t going to tell me, but that’s alright. I’ve got another connection that will tell me exactly what I want to know. I start walking again. I need to get to my answers.

“I have somewhere to be,” I say and end the call. She’ll call back and it’ll blow up into something I have to smooth over later, but maybe I won’t. I’m tired of pretending to be the perfect son my parents remember. That version of me is gone and it’s taking far more out of me to keep him alive than I care to do right now.

What’s the point anyways? I’ve got what I want. Nevaeh.

“I love you, Beau. I always have.”

The second she said those words, she sealed her fate. The intensity of what I’ve felt for her, the obsession, the bone deep need to own her, to force her into something stronger than she is. All of that bloomed into love when Nevaeh said the words I couldn’t. I’ll say them now though, because I’m not going to torture Nevaeh. I’m going to marry her. I’m going to spend my fucking life with her at my side. We’re fucked up, I know. But other couples have had worse starts. I’m sure of it, even if it doesn’t seem likely.

In front of me I see the telltale signs of police at Nevaeh’s dorm. There’s yellow tape and police standing guard at the entrance, but I see students coming and going from the side door. On either side of the door, there’s a couple of cops and a woman checking student IDs and writing down the names of every student that enters and exits on a clipboard. Not great for hiding the fact that I was here today, but it’s doable if I’m pushed to explain.

I approach the woman at the door and plaster a smile on my face. I already have my ID in hand and hand it over to her when she reaches for it. One of the cops nudges the other and I know they’ve recognized me with how they’re leaning together and talking.

“Good morning,” I tell her and she smiles at me.

“Morning, son. You visiting or live here?” she asks as she starts to flip through the papers on her clipboard.

“Visiting a friend,” I say.

“We’re real glad you’re out, Beau. You settling in all right?” The cop to the left asks me. He doesn’t look familiar but I bet we’ve had him over at a cookout.

I nod at him. “Yes, sir. Everyone’s been nice and accommodating. Feels like I was never gone.”

“You’re Beau Du Pont,” the woman says, staring at my ID with wide eyes. She looks up at me and swallows hard. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“Nothing to apologize for. Glad someone didn’t recognize me for once in Bloom. It can be a lot,” I tell her and take the ID back with an easy smile.

She nods at me apologetically. “We’re keeping all visits to a thirty minute limit today, Beau. I hope that's all right. We’re sorry if it’s an inconvenience.”

The cop that spoke, puts his hand on his belt and makes a show of adjusting it. “I’m sure we can bend the rules for Beau, just this once, Brenda.”

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