Chapter Twenty One
Don't Let the Sun Go Down On Me

"Hey," Warren greeted the moment Max emerged from Mr. Jefferson's class, leaning up against the door leading into the science lab. "How'd it go?"

"I made it through, somehow," she replied, and he came to her side as she walked further down the hall. "How was Chem?"

"Ms. Grant's still out sick, so we just got to work through a few experiments," he answered, scratching the back of his head. "I hope she's doing okay. No one's really sure why, but she wasn't here yesterday either."

"I hope she's okay too."

From her peripheral, she saw Kate rush quickly past them, with Brooke, Stella, and Alyssa keeping a safe distance behind her. Victoria and Taylor had gone off in the opposite direction. The tension between them wasn't lost on Max, but she had more important things to concern herself with right now.

"So did Brooke say anything to you yet?"

Warren shook his head. "It's probably not the best idea to invite her to game night. Might be a little awkward."

"More than a little." She narrowed her eyes. "I think I figured out what that phone call yesterday was about."

"The one in the bathroom?"

Max nodded. "Victoria's Facebook got totally trashed this morning, and there's a rumor spreading about her being in love with Kate. I don't remember Brooke having Jefferson's class this period, either. I think she might have just been in there to gloat."

"You're sure she's the one who started that rumor?"

By this point they had reached the larger hall, and started heading for the exit doors. "I can't be positive. You know her better than me. Is she really that petty?"

"Probably petty enough to go along with the rumor," he admitted, shrugging. "But I can't be any more sure she started it than you are. I can definitely see her doing the Facebook hack, though."

Max sighed. "Proving once again that the only difference between nerds and popular kids is the persecution complex. There's still the same bullshit drama and gossiping, only it's all dressed up in quirky pop culture references and weird hair."

"You're starting to sound more like Chloe, you know."

She laughed. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Nah. She's cool as hell. So are you."

"Thanks, Warren. I actually really needed to hear that."

The double doors parted, and they walked further into the courtyard. Max froze in her tracks when she saw, standing in front of the fountain, arms crossed, David Madsen staring at her with a grave expression on his face. Warren kept walking forward a couple of steps before he caught on, angling himself protectively in front of her.

"Max Caulfield," said David, still staring at her. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Warren looked back at her over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow as if to ask what he should do. After a moment, Max nodded to him and gestured towards the dorms with her head.

"It's fine. I'll meet up with you later, Warren."

"Okay. Just call me if you need anything, alright?"

She smirked. "I'll be sure to do just that."

He walked away, and David waited until he was gone to move closer to her. He stayed far enough away that he didn't tower over her, helped somewhat by the icy glare she was sending his way, arms folded over her chest.

"Do you need something from me, Mr. Madsen?"

He squinted at her, examining her carefully. She remained resolute.

"I just want to know if you've seen Chloe. A few students said they saw the two of you in front of this fountain earlier."

"Sounds like you already know the answer, then." Her glower intensified. "Why do you want to find her, anyway? So you can check out the black eye you gave her?"

David scratched the back of his neck, and his eyes traveled skyward as he turned his face away. "She told you what happened, huh?"

"No shit. She doesn't want to be anywhere near you after last night."

His frown transmuted into a scowl, and he stared hard at her. "Max, you have to understand. Things got out of hand last night, but I do love Chloe, like my own daughter. I just want to make sure she's safe."

"Is that why you hit her? So you can keep her safe?"

"It's not like that. Now I'll admit she said a few things that got under my skin, but…"

"I don't care what she said! You're an adult! You should know better! There's nothing she could have said or done to you that would justify you hitting her!"

By this point their conversation was turning a few heads, but neither of them cared. Most of the expressions that she caught seemed to be a mixture of confusion and awe, with just a hint of admiration. There was a time when Max wouldn't have thought it possible to stand her ground against the school's biggest bully. But that was before she learned that there were much scarier things in life than a security guard with control issues.

"You know, I actually tried defending you to her," she continued. "I thought that underneath all that macho, fascist bullshit, you had a good heart. And maybe you still do. But that doesn't matter if you're just going to keep abusing her."

"Damn it, I know all that!" he shouted. "I'm trying to find her so I can apologize!"

"I don't think she wants to hear your apology right now," said Max, pivoting her torso to the side with her arms crossed, keeping her glare focused on him. "I know for a fact this isn't the first time it's happened, either. Did you say you were sorry all those other times too?"

He turned his face to the side, away from her. "Look, Max. I know you're probably closer with Chloe than anybody else, maybe even closer than Rachel. But there are things you don't understand about our family."

She chuckled darkly. "Chloe doesn't think of you as family. I'm good enough friends with her to know that. To her you're just an intruder, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. A step-douche."

"You think I haven't tried reaching out to her? I've told her time and again, I want us to be family. I'm not aiming to replace her father, and I know how hard it can be to lose someone you love. I went through that in Afghanistan, and ever since I got back, things just… haven't been the same."

"That's no excuse to be treating Chloe the way you have. Three years is more than enough time to seek out help, but you think bottling it all up and enduring it makes you a better man. I don't think I'll ever understand what you went through in Afghanistan. But I've been through hell too. And so has Chloe. Like you wouldn't believe."

The anger left him with a sigh, and he looked at her morosely. "I know. I see a lot of myself in her, believe it or not. I guess that's why I want to see her do better for herself than… whatever her life is now."

"Well this isn't the way to go about it," she replied, keeping her arms crossed. "If you really want to apologize, you should help find out who really put that weed in Rachel's locker. Did you ever actually believe it was hers?"

"What I think doesn't matter," he said, shifting quickly to a stern, closed-off demeanor, as if realizing that he'd let too much of his humanity show. "This is an official investigation now, and you kids need to stay out of it. At this point anything you do is as liable to hinder the truth from coming out as it is to help."

"Give me one good reason why I should trust anybody in charge at this school. Wells is just a drunk who bends over backwards for the Prescotts and lets Nathan get away with anything. You say you care about our safety, but have you even noticed what's been happening with Kate Marsh? Or Victoria Chase? Because it's more than just your standard teenage girl drama, believe me."

Craning his neck back, he narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Just that you should be more concerned with whoever's drugging girls at Vortex Club parties than a bag of weed that was obviously planted by someone who wanted Rachel to get suspended for some reason."

She couldn't tell him the truth about Jefferson. Not after he'd just given her every conceivable indication that he wouldn't believe her. She needed proof, and she wasn't likely to find it at any point during this conversation. But maybe she could point his paranoia in the right direction for once.

"Max," he said with great effort, shaking his head. "That's an awful serious allegation you're making."

"And I'm dead serious. What is it about me that causes all of you think I'm making this shit up?"

"That's not what I—" He took a deep breath, lowered his voice, and continued. "That's not what I mean. The incidents you're referring to are being looked into, I promise. I know you feel like you're invincible at your age, that you can solve all the world's problems, but there are some things you should leave to the adults."

"I don't feel invincible," she revealed. "I feel so fucking unsafe it makes me actually feel sick. And Chloe hides it pretty well, but she does too. So whether you like it or not, we're doing something about it."

"You have to understand," he replied. "Part of growing up is knowing your limits, and realizing when you're in over your head. I don't want to see any of you get hurt, Max. And that's not just because it's my job to keep you safe."

She huffed, shaking her head. He had no idea what her limits were.

"Whatever. Can I go now?"

He nodded, and she walked away without saying another word.

On afternoons like this, when the sunset stained the sky a warm shade of amber, Kate liked to sit by the picnic tables and draw. Recent events hadn't afforded her many opportunities to do so, and for a while she sought comfort in total darkness, confident that no one could see her suffering. But she had been wrong about that. And now that she had been reminded that there were people who cared, she started to return to her old habits.

Her mouth curled downward into a frown as she considered the events of the morning. Stella, Brooke, and Alyssa were her friends, but only in the sense that they shared a few of the same interests and hung out sometimes. They didn't really engage with her on a deeper level like Max or Rachel. Or Victoria.

None of the individuals in question were in sight save for Max, who walked past her on her way to the dorms, not even looking her way. Kate didn't try to grab her attention, having witnessed the tail end of what looked like a heated argument between her and Mr. Madsen. Shaking her head, she returned to her work. Max was braver than she could ever hope to be, but it all seemed to take such a toll on her, as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders and didn't know how to shrug it off.

Victoria at least seemed to be making progress, and was no longer running from whatever this burgeoning friendship between them was. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

She was halfway through a drawing of a theme-park made of marshmallows and other assorted candies when she caught flashes of a red jacket in her peripheral, and someone else sat down at the table. Looking up, she saw Nathan Prescott sitting across from her.

"Uh… hi, Nathan."

"Hey."

A few uncomfortable seconds passed before she mustered up the courage to speak again. "Can I help you with something?"

He glanced to each side to make sure there were no prying ears, then leaned in closer. "It's about yesterday. What you and Victoria told me about what happened at the Vortex Club parties. I might have a lead."

Her fingers tightened around the colored pencil she was holding, and Kate stared at him with narrowed eyes. "What kind of lead?"

"Do you know who Frank Bowers is?"

Kate nodded. "He's a drug dealer. Max thinks he might have been the one who supplied the weed that got put in Rachel's locker."

"Figures she would have told you about that."

"Are you saying he's the one who drugged me and Victoria?"

Nathan shook his head. "No. But he definitely sold it to whoever did." He pulled out a small notebook. "And I have something that might tell us who."

Splaying it out over the table, he turned it so that she could read what was on the page. She saw a ledger of drugs that were sold, along with dollar amounts. She squinted when she saw the column denoting who the drugs were sold to.

"It's just a bunch of dog names."

"Codenames," Nathan explained, producing another scrap of paper. "I have the client list right here. Beagle is Justin Williams, Bulldog is Chloe Price, and it looks like Chihuahua is you."

Kate reared back in shock, not sure how to react to that. "What?"

He showed her the paper. "It says 'Katie' right next to it."

"Must be some other girl. I don't buy drugs."

Nathan shrugged. "Whatever. Here's the important one. Look at Dachsund."

"Where did you get all this?"

"Rachel. Did Max tell you she used to work for Frank?"

Kate nodded. "That doesn't explain how you know all this."

"I'm getting to that, trust me. Look at the record for Dachsund on October First and Fifth."

Squinting, she went through the ledger. "Ninety dollars for twenty-four milligrams of hydromorphone on the First, seventy-five dollars on the Fifth for benzodiazepine and one gram of speed." She looked up. "I don't get it. What do those drugs do?"

"Hydromorphone is an opiate," he replied. "And benzodiazepine is used as a sedative and muscle relaxer. A high enough dose can also cause amnesia. And before you ask how I know that, I've been on a lot of medication in my life. It helps to know what it all does."

"So who's Dachsund?"

He handed her the client list. Her eyes widened when she read the name.

"Stella?"

Nathan stared at her gravely.

"But… how? Why?"

"She was the coat checker at both parties," he answered. "That's means and opportunity. As for motive, just look what happened to Vic's Facebook today. I also heard what went down in Jefferson's classroom. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if she was the one who planted the weed in Rachel's locker."

The events of that morning played over again in Kate's mind, and every path led back to the "intervention" that Brooke, Stella, and Alyssa had attempted in the hall. It was no secret that none of them were fans of the popular kids. Could it actually be true?

"Why me, though? She's my friend."

Nathan shrugged. "She could have been trying to get Victoria at the first party and drugged you by mistake. Or she might not have approved of you being at that party in the first place because she felt like you didn't belong there. Turns out you can be pretty cool when you want to, though. If what Victoria says is true."

Kate suddenly felt a powerful urge to disappear back into the darkness that had been her escape when her whole life got turned upside down before. But she breathed deeply, reminding herself that God was there for her, and so were her friends. Which, she supposed, now included Nathan.

"I never thanked you before," she said quietly, staring at the table. "For getting me home safe."

"Don't worry about it." Retrieving the ledger, he stopped to look at the papers that were scattered over the table. "Are those your drawings? They look nice."

The corners of her mouth tugged upwards into a smile. "Thanks. I'm finally getting back into it after… everything."

"That's good to hear."

"So what's going to happen with Stella? Are you going to tell the Principal or Mr. Madsen?"

"Once we have enough proof, yeah. But with me backing you up, they'll have to listen."

She bobbed her head up and down for a few seconds as she processed that. "Good."

Kate went back to drawing, and Nathan sat there quietly.

Wiping down the hard wooden counter of the bar with a towel that already sported its fair share of stains, Samantha Black Elk soaked up a puddle of whiskey before sliding fragments of shattered glass into a waiting trash bin. The trucker in front of her wasn't even sorry, waiting irritably for his next round. But he knew better than to mouth off.

"That one's going on your tab," she declared after shaking out the rag to remove the final shards of glass, then retrieved another glass and filled it. "Be careful this time."

"Yeah, yeah."

The door opened, and the final bits of fading sunlight framed two figures in silhouette as they passed through the doorway. As they moved closer she could see the cheap suits hiding the sticks up their asses. The woman was dark-skinned with curly hair, while the man next to her was shaved completely bald, tucking his sunglasses into his breast pocket. They each produced a badge, holding them up for her to see.

She stood there, arms crossed, unimpressed. "So I guess you're done spying from a distance, then."

The trucker stood up and moved further down the bar, wisely deciding not to get in the middle of this. The woman stepped closer, tucking her badge away. "Special Agent Maria Acevedo, FBI. This is Special Agent Jerome Bryant. We need to ask you a few questions."

"Ask away. Just don't expect answers."

Maria smirked, letting out a small chuckle. "Can you account for your whereabouts last night between the hours of eight and eleven o'clock pm?"

"Sounds like you already know."

Producing her phone, the FBI agent held it up for her to see. It showed Sam leaning against a chain link fence, taking a drag on a cigarette. Fortunately, the picture appeared to have been taken before company had arrived.

"This was taken around nine o'clock last night," she explained. "From what we understand, you were casing the building across the street, which carries a wide variety of farming supplies, including industrial fertilizer."

Sam's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"Ten bags of fertilizer containing ammonium nitrate were stolen last night," said Special Agent Bryant. "Along with a few gallons of diesel fuel from a trucking depot on the outskirts of town. You don't need me to tell you what those two things combine to make, do you?"

She remained stone-faced, allowing them to spin whatever tale they'd come up with, but didn't respond. No use adding more fuel to the fire.

"When certain members belonging to the Organization for Protecting the Environment Now were arrested, the explosive device they planned on detonating was made of ANFO," said Maria. "And now we've got you standing across the street from a building where the active ingredient for that sort of explosive was stolen."

"Am I under arrest?"

"That depends." Special Agent Acevedo crossed her arms. "Do you have a better explanation for what happened?"

"Let's start with the car that was there," she replied, reaching under the counter and retrieving a folder that she'd been keeping for when this inevitably came up. "I've got pictures, plates, DMV records, all there. If you run all of it you won't be able to tie it to me or anybody else I know."

Maria took a step back, clearly surprised. "Why would you collect all this?"

"Because you're not the only one interested in what's going on in Arcadia Bay," she answered. "We got a tip from a source saying someone was gonna move on the fertilizer in that place last night, so I staked it out. Figured you'd blame us anyway if it went missing."

"That's a nice story. But how do I know you weren't just the lookout?"

"Why don't you ask whoever took that photo of me? I know for a fact there weren't any surveillance cameras."

"We don't betray our informants, Miss Black Elk."

"Like I give a shit who you duped into working for you. Your case isn't strong enough to hold up in court and you know it, which is why you're trying to spook me instead of just slapping on the handcuffs. That's the same reason you went after Chloe Price."

Neither of them could stop their eyes from widening a hair in response to that.

"What, did you think we weren't keeping tabs on her too? You can do better than that punk, believe me."

Special Agent Bryant crossed his arms. "It sounds like you're admitting that your organization is involved in more than environmental protesting."

"So is fucking Greenpeace; go hassle them. The Second Amendment is about more than private gun ownership. It also guarantees the right to form militias, when the local government isn't doing enough to protect people. Everyone knows what your agency did with COINTELPRO, so you can't blame us for keeping an eye on new faces."

"We can blame you when some of your members get arrested trying to plant a bomb, then the materials for making another one go missing," said Maria. "Militias are only allowed when they're well-regulated, and certainly not when they conspire to commit acts of domestic terrorism."

"I think you'll find that, from a legal standpoint, the actions and beliefs of those individuals don't represent the positions of the leadership of the Organization for Protecting the Environment Now," Sam rattled off with practiced ease. "The bomb was their idea, and neither I nor my grandfather had any foreknowledge that they were building it, much less that they planned to use it. They were an extremist faction who have since been cut off from the organization."

"Then why were you standing right across the street from that building last night?"

She scowled and leaned forward. "I'm afraid if you want to continue this line of questioning, it'll have to be with an attorney present. So either bring me in or get the hell out of my bar."

Chuckling softly, Special Agent Acevedo turned around, and her partner followed. The door opened, revealing for a moment that the sun had finally disappeared below the horizon. "Have a good night, Miss Black Elk."

She resumed wiping down the bar.