In the Arms of Stone Angels - By Jordan Dane Page 0,12

I had something to do with why he was there.

I hadn’t actually seen him kill Heather and I didn’t know anything about why he’d done it. But walking away from a boy I had grown to love—and betraying our relationship by siding with the sheriff and turning him in without talking to him—hadn’t felt right, either. I was confused and completely unsure if I had done the right thing. And I knew my mom would have never understood that.

No one would.

“Bren? It’s pretty hot out here. You okay?” My mom’s voice came from behind me. She was coming off the porch, heading toward me.

I sat back on my haunches to stretch my back and said, “I’m good.”

“Yeah, you are. You’ve done a lot, honey.” She smiled and handed me a fresh bottle of cold water. “All these beds were really overgrown. This whole front yard used to be nothing but flowers. Do you remember that?”

I nodded and shrugged before I sucked down the cold water.

“Looks like we have an audience.” Mom stared across the street and caught the movement of miniblinds in a front window. I’d been seeing it all morning. We were the new scandal to entertain the neighborhood. And I had no doubt that we were the subject of countless phone calls. If anyone hadn’t found out that we were back in town, they’d know after today. Bad news spread like an Oklahoma wildfire in Shawano.

“Yeah, it’s been like that all morning.” I grimaced and got back to work.

“People used to be friendly in this town.”

Yeah, but friends dry up when your daughter is linked to a murder. I didn’t have to say it. I knew what she was thinking.

“I don’t want you working through the heat of the day, hon.” She handed me her car keys, a piece of paper and cash. “I need more cleaning supplies and a few things from the hardware store. I wrote it all down.”

“You mean—? Ah…yeah, sure.” I almost smiled when I heard she wanted me to drive. I may have had a restricted driver’s license, but that didn’t mean I had a restricted spirit. Driving the car on my own was still exciting for me. After I looked at the list, I said, “Yeah, I can pick these up. No problem.”

“Good. And I found your old bicycle in the garage. It’s not in bad shape. You could put air in the tires when you fill up my car with gas.”

“A bicycle?” I scrunched my face as an image of Pee-wee Herman flashed in my head.

“Oh, come on. You’ll have it when I’ve got the car. Don’t worry. You’ll get plenty of driving time.”

Mom didn’t give me a chance to argue. And I got over the bicycle thing in a hurry. Only one question remained. Could I run her errands and visit White Bird without Mom knowing it? Having wheels would make a big difference. This was too good to be true and I had to take advantage of my stroke of good luck.

I’d see White Bird today, whether I was ready to or not.

Derek Bast had driven around the block more than a few times in his black Ford F-150 truck with heavily tinted windows. He didn’t want the neighbors to notice his interest in Brenna Nash, so he’d parked down the block. And she’d made it easy for him by working in the front yard of her grandmother’s house.

“How did you know she was stayin’ here?” Justin asked and took a sip of his Sonic Blue Slush. “This is an old neighborhood. I would’ve expected her to be at some motel, man.”

“Word spread fast when that Indian-lovin’ skank came back to town. Like I said, she ain’t wanted here. That’s all you got to know.” He grimaced at Justin through the rearview mirror. “And you gotta quit ordering those blue faggot drinks. Man up, asshole.”

Jeff and Garrett laughed. He knew he’d get a rise out of them. Justin was the guy everyone picked on and it was way too easy. The only reason he let the guy hang with him and his crew was because Justin did everything he was told.

“Hey, looks like something’s happening.” Justin pointed. “She’s goin’ somewhere.”

When her mom talked to her in the yard, she handed over keys and some other stuff. And Brenna had gone back into the house.

“Let’s wait awhile, see what she does.” Derek sent a text message and waited. It didn’t take long for a reply to come back. His cell