not to be too close anytime she or Ollie were near. Plus, it wasn’t like Archer was in the mood for any sneaking around. The boy was just too sad.
I couldn’t blame him. His life had literally started to fall apart shortly after I came to Midpark. I was probably a reminder of everything that had gone wrong, all of the stress that had been dumped onto his life.
Early Saturday Ollie got the call that Melinda had woken up in the hospital. The doctors were worried there was some brain swelling, and she’d been unresponsive until now. After getting the okay from the doctors, the police questioned her, asking her if she remembered anything—if there was a guest, how she’d fallen down the stairs, if she remembered anyone pushing her or trying to get at Bernie Vega.
Her answer? Her answer was the same no matter which question they asked, I guess.
She didn’t remember. She couldn’t recall anything that had happened that day. It was all too fuzzy in her head. But, apparently when the police informed her that Bernie had died, she freaked out, crying and all that. Melinda had no idea Bernie was dead. I didn’t know if that proved someone had killed her or not.
I sat in Ollie’s office, fiddling with my hands. Archer and my mom were downstairs, as was Jacob. He would be spending a lot of time here as well; the more eyes on us the better.
Ollie stood with one hand in his suit jacket, the other held onto a cell phone near his ear. He spoke with Detective Wilde, who was working on Bernie’s case. But, from what I overheard, it wasn’t good.
My spirits sunk when I watched him hang up the phone and sigh as he sat in his high-backed leather chair. Being in this office still reminded me of the time Vaughn and Markus were here, when I was so ignorant of everything going on.
“Not good?” I asked.
“No,” Ollie said. He set his cell phone down on his desk, leaning back in his chair. “The knife that was used to cut Mrs. Vega’s wrists only had one set of prints on them: hers. With Melinda not remembering anything, the department is closing the case, saying it’s a clear-cut suicide.”
“And there’s nothing we can do?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Unless Melinda suddenly regains her memory—which is possible—there’s nothing. Still, I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I agree with you that this is all connected. We will have to be on guard at the funeral tomorrow.”
I nodded, knowing he was right. Not knowing what else to say, I got up, about to head out, but Ollie’s next words stopped me.
“If something happens tomorrow, I want you to focus on keeping yourself safe. Do you understand?”
Looking back at him, I wondered what he was going on about. Did he really think the killer would try to come after me at a public funeral? I supposed a monster was a monster; they wouldn’t care what they were interrupting.
I took my time in nodding. “I will.” After Ollie gave me a sad smile, I turned and left, heading to my room. My homework sat on my desk, untouched since Friday. I’d told Vaughn and Dante about the funeral, that they could come if they wanted, but they couldn’t approach me. Not now. Not with all of this going on.
Someday, if we all survive, I do plan on telling my mom about my multiple boyfriends. One battle at a time.
I was standing before my closet, going through my clothes when I heard a knock on my door. I’d left it open, so anyone could walk right in. Archer had followed my mom’s rules so far in that he refused to step inside my bedroom, even with the door wide open. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was scared of her.
That, or he didn’t want to piss off the mother that had taken care of him these last few days and made him remember what having a mother was like.
But it wasn’t Archer.
Jacob stood near my door, leaning on the door frame as he watched me. He had his thumbs hooked in his pockets, his hazel eyes taking me in as if he hadn’t seen me in ages. His light brown hair was starting to look a bit scraggly, like he needed to cut it and was dragging his feet instead of going to the barber.