"Looks like a typical alcohol fatality, Jim," the policeman bent over the black body bag and peeked inside. "Even smells like some kind of gin or something."
"Looks like the guy passed out up on the ledge up there," Jim motioned to the ledge above the highway and used his pencil to draw an invisible line. "And toppled over the cliff. TOD is 16-17 hours ago, so it was about one o'clock in the morning when he fell off the cliff, skid across the road, and landed in the sand grass here."
"What is with the burns though?" The other questioned, observing the distinctive third-degree burns that covered the man's body.
"Most likely friction and road burns from the fall." Jim shook his head and sighed. "I don't know. The point is this poor fellow is dead, and he was only... How old, Tom?"
"24. His name was Adam Ziegler. From what we've turned over, he is (well, was) a college student at American River College. Smart boy, he was."
Jim tsked, "It only takes one mistake, doesn't it?" He put a comforting hand on his new-to-the-job companion's shoulder and called the morgue nurse over. "We're all good over here. Take this poor guy away. We'll contact his family once we're back at the station."
"What about them?" Tom pointed to the teens all huddled under a stress blanket, talking to a fellow officer. "They're just kids."
"I know, it's awful. They'll never forget this." Jim opened the door for his new deputy.
"I hear one of them is from England or something. First time to America. Way to make an impression, right?"
"Yeah, it sure is not the way to start out a visit. Come on, Tom. We'll talk more on the way to the station. Our work here is done."
Anthony's Point of View
Lucy stared off into the hills of the beach, her face blank and emotionless. The police officer repeated her name and tilted his head down. "Lucy? You with us?"
I placed a soft hand under her stress blanket and onto her shoulder. She jumped at my touch and spun her head around. "What?" she gasped.
"Lucy," I said in almost a whisper. "Officer Mason asked you a question."
"Oh," Lucy swallowed and looked up with only her eyes to the officer. "I'm sorry. I...didn't hear you."
"I asked you if you remember seeing anything out of the ordinary here at the beach."
No, nothing out of the ordinary besides the fact there was a dead corpse just twenty feet away from us! I thought to myself, but Lucy answered no.
"There was nothing different," Lucy replied. She shook as she spoke, and I squeezed her shoulder for support. Lucy instantly stopped shaking and relaxed. "It...seemed...like any other beach I've been to. Here, or at home."
The officer jotted down notes, and Lucy's last comment raised his eyebrows. "Right, I wanted to talk to you about that. It would be understandable if you wanted to go back to England after...all this." My heart saddened as I knew this would be true. I held my breath and rubbed my tired face. If only we never came here. None of this would have ever happened. I just wanted to go home and forget. "We could-"
"No!" Lucy sprang out of her seat and eyes widened. Everyone was shocked at her response and quieted. The spur of the moment ended and Lucy slightly blushed. "I want to stay. I'll be fine, really." The officer seemed dubious. He shook his head and pushed the talk button on his radio.
"Please," Lucy begged with a solemn whisper. "Let me stay."
The officer stared at her in stupidity and through his hands in the air. "Whatever. Fine, Ms. Lylles. Let's just get you all home and try to forget this all happened. We've all contacted your parents to let them know in advanced. You won't have to worry about breaking this to them once you get back."
Oh, great. Mom knows. Now I REALLY wanted to go home...
Lucy's Point of View
The car ride to school a week later was as long as ever. Partially because I was anxious to get there, but mostly because Mrs. Lucia glanced at me with pursed lips and a shaking head every few seconds (as if I hadn't noticed). We both knew what she was thinking, and when she pulled into the school parking lot, it poured out of her mouth like a bucket.
"Lucy," Mrs. Lucia's voice cracked and she stiffened a cry. Oh, good Lord. Not again!
"I…I really don't think going to school today is a good idea." Mrs. Lucia sighed of relief as if she had been holding in that 'dirty secret' for years. Her eyes gleamed and, in triumph, she nodded in satisfaction. "It's not a smart idea and you should stay home today. Maybe for the next couple days, I don't know! What you went through last week was…was…" Her lip quivered.
Hiding my annoyance from hearing this speech are multiple times, I gulped my argument and placed a gentle hand on hers. "Mrs. Lucia," I gave a warm smile that brought a calm one on her tear-stained face. "I promise you that I am fine. I am a big girl who is ready to face the world again. Yes, what happened was very scary, but I refuse to let it ruin the rest of my time here."
Mrs. Lucia squealed and pulled my into a gigantic hug. I stopped myself from being 'rude' and gasping for breath. Lifting my wrist, I checked my watched and realized I was already going to be late. Now, I REALLY don't have time for this. I rolled my eyes and tapped her slowly on the back. "There, there…"
"Alright," Mrs. Lucia sniffed and pulled herself together. "Go and have a great day."
Relieved, I nodded obediently and thanked her for the ride. Mrs. Lucia drove safely away as I, once again, waited anxiously at the sidewalk, staring at Del Campo's school campus. What the day had in store for me today, I had no idea. And I wasn't going to know until I took another step forward. Here we go again.
The second day. First block: Study Hall. Stepping blindly into classroom, I spotted the two people I had tried my best to avoid: Ian and Anthony say on top of a table in the back room.
I expected whispers followed me as I walked with a spring in my step through the halls. I expected word to have spread about the 'incident' that occured a week ago, and everyone to know who was there. But nothing came. It seemed the police hadn't released what happened to the media yet. The only outsiders who knew about Ziegler were Ian, Anthony, our parents, and myself. We all hid the scary memory from everyone else, pretending nothing had happened. And it wasn't easy, at least not for me. I wonder how Ian and Anthony are dealing…
Oh, shit. Ian and Anthony! What do I say to them? What will they say to me? I haven't come to school for a week; they probably thought I changed my mind and went home. Are they mad? What am I supposed to do? Dear Lord, maybe Mrs. Lucia was right. Maybe I should have stayed back at the house today. Maybe I have some time to think about an escape plan.
"Lucy!"
Son of a bitch! "Oh, hey guys!" Ian and Anthony both bear-hugged me from behind. Questions filled the air of where I was and what had happened.
"I told you she didn't go back to England, Anthony!"
Anthony looked to the floor, shyly. "I thought you did."
"Mrs. Lucia had me on lock-down at the house." I explained as each guy grabbed one of my arms, intertwined theirs with mine, and lead me off to study hall. "She didn't even want me to come today. She's been a little bit paranoid ever since…" By their faces, I saw they got the picture.
"Right, we wanted to talk to you about that." Ian nudged Anthony to attention and they both cleared their throats. "You see, we wanted to say~"
"Ms. Lylles!" A firm but happy hand plopped onto my shoulder. I spun around and stood to see Mr. Sievers gazing down at me with his signature smile. "How great to see you! I need you for study hall today. You missed a lab this week. I need you to finish it as soon as possible so I can get rid of the leftover chemicals for good."
"Oh~!" I began, looking back at Ian and Anthony.
"~Sorry, old boys!" Mr. Sievers piped, leading me down the opposite way. "I'm afraid it can't wait any longer. She's a smart girl, though. It shouldn't take long." And with that, I was whisked away once again.
Hands and mind busy, I was able to clear my mind of all the drama of the last week, and I whipped through the chemical combination in no time. A simple experiment involving the recovery of by-products from hardwood carbonization with proligneous acid; I had done it before. The other students also in the classroom slumped over their failed projects as Mr. Sievers congratulated me on another job well done. Full of pride, I began to clean up my success. I was back in my mojo, and it felt right.
Still, the hollow feeling in my gut refused to cease. I set down the test tubes by the sink, rested my weight on my wrists, and sighed. What am I going to do? I complained. If only I had gone on that stupid trip planned by the committee, none of this would have ever~
My thoughts were interrupted by the shift of my hand. My finger rubbed over something small and grainy. Salt. I figured.
But wait. This experiment didn't call for salt. I looked down and lifted it up. It was white and wet, as if someone had tried to wipe it up. My heart raced and jumped to my throat as I realized what it was.
It wasn't salt. It was sand, and my eyes closed as a flashback overtook me.
A hand covered with beach sand turned the sink on to full power as it rinsed itself off. But it shook with fear, disgusted at what deed it performed. But the hand did not know it hadn't washed itself off completely as it reached for the hand towel. Drops of wet sand stuck to the table without sounding any alarm. The hand moved on (thinking all evidence was already down the drain) to the vile on its right. They were almost empty of the dangerous liquids they contained. What power that bottle held.
Shaking, I knew what I had to do with the vile on my right, that sat there, half-empty with dangerous fillings as well. With a sputtered breath, I prepared myself with the vile my right hand. With a small twitch of the hand, a drop of proligneous acid slid out of the vile and onto my finger. The acid ate through my skin as I cried out in agony, despite my biggest will to keep quiet. My eyes flooded with tears as I gripped my wound. Eventually, I opened my eyes to see what I had been looking for.
And once again, my scientific knowledge was right. As I had guessed, it was a match. The wound on my finger was the same as the burns on Adam Ziegler's body. He wasn't a drunk; he didn't pass out on a cliff, and I knew because those weren't pavement burns. They were proligneous acid burns.
Adam Ziegler's death wasn't an accident. He was murdered.
And I knew who did it.
And I jumped out of my skin when I heard his voice.
"Lucy! Are you alright? What happened?"
I jerked my hand behind my back and felt the blood drain from my face. "Oh god…" I breathed.
Mr. Sievers leaned over and retrieved my burnt hand. His tsked. "Well, it's not too bad. You don't need a chemical bath or anything. Just head to the restroom and wash it with warm water. Would you like me to walk you there?" He motioned toward the door, and I took a quick step back in fear. Mr. Sievers wore a confused face. "Is there…something wrong?"
My heart beat in my ears and my breathing quickened. "Nothing," I lied through my teeth. "Nothing at all. I just… I'll be right back, then."
Trying not to faint on the way, I walked smoothly out of the classroom; when I reached the hallway, however, I went into a full out sprint towards study hall. God, please let him be out. PLEASE let him be out.
My prayers were answered. As I turned the corner, I spotted Anthony, walking the hallways during class. With a loud, wheezing whisper, I called his name as I speed up from behind him. Confused, he spun around as I gripped his arm and dragged him into the nearest girls' bathroom.
"Lucy!" Anthony immediately blushed at his surroundings and giggled. Once he caught a glimpse of my pale and stricken face, he whipped the smile of his. "Lucy, what's wrong?"
My knees gave out and I fell to the floor, but Anthony caught my shoulders before I could collide with the ground. My lips quivered. No words came out.
"Lucy!" He screamed and lifted my face to him. "What. Happened."
A single, scared tear fell from my eye. "Anthony, you have no idea."