Page 85 of Nowhere Good

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME

Claire lay flat on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts sloshing around inside her head. The fact that no one was home when she got back, and no one had called her cell, lulled her into a sense of safety. She’d gotten away with talking to Seth.

For now, anyway.

She leaned up on her elbow and caught her reflection in the full-body mirror leaning against the wall. Her legs, exposed below her denim shorts, long and smooth; her tank top, fitted nicely across her chest in a way she hadn’t thought about till now; her hair, spilling over her bare shoulders.

She’d seen that look on Seth’s face when she made that joke about her chest. The way his stare lingered. The subtle flare of interest. Then the hint of embarrassment as he realized he’d been caught.

God, her dad had been right. He was sweet on her.

A man as easy on the eyes as him—as good as him—no, it still didn’t feel real. Desire pooled into her like a warm liquid, simmering through her veins. She thought of his hands, his eyes, how he might look at her if she were to undress in front of him; his deep, smooth voice, how he might sound if she did something to make him feel good.

The exact kind of thoughts Claire had wanted to avoid.

But maybe it didn’t have to be just a fantasy.

Her phone buzzed on the bed beside her, and she snatched it up. Clementine was calling, which was a rarity—usually that girl operated on a text-only basis. Confused, Claire answered.

“Clem, you—”

“Did you see the news?”

“What? No.”

“You need to look. It’s Trevor, Claire. Like our Trevor. From the farm.”

Putting the phone on speaker, Claire maneuvered to her internet browser and looked up the local news. The Fairview Police had released something.

PUBLIC WARNING:

SUSPECT WANTED IN CONNECTION TO MULTIPLE HOMICIDES

NAME: TREVOR SLOANE

AGE: 28

DO NOT APPROACH. DO NOT ENGAGE.

Claire’s hands shook. Seth must’ve figured something out.

Below the warning was more information, but Clarie found herself staring at the photo of Trevor’s face, the same one from the Belleville website. He looked so soft and kind. She remembered him being soft and kind, aside from the odd emotional outbreak. Sometimes he’d storm off, angry and upset, but Claire had never been privy to the whys, and lots of boys had temper problems. She never remembered him as violent.

“Hon, I’m scared,” Clementine whined. “I can’t get a hold of anyone. Marty’s not picking up his cell. Daddy neither. I even tried Dillon. Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” Claire said. Maybe they were out looking for him. If what Claire was thinking earlier could be true, then her dad might have good reasons to silence Trevor.

“And there’s some cop parked outside,” Clem went on. “He said he’s gotta watch the house ‘just in case.’ Do they think he’s coming after me? What about you?”

As if on cue, a knock at the front door rattled the entire trailer. “Hold on, Clem, someone’s at my door.” She stood up and peeked through the bedroom curtains, only to see a cop car parked outside. By her front door, Officer Amy Pereira. “It’s a cop. I’ll call you back.”

She hung up and rushed to the front door, opening it. Officer Pereira apprehensively met Claire’s eyes. They hadn’t seen each other since the whole search warrant fiasco.

“Afternoon, Claire,” Officer Pereira said, tipping her hat. “Nothing to be alarmed about, but I’m gonna be sitting outside your house for a while, all right? Just to keep an eye on you.”

“My sister said there’s a cop watching her too. It’s ’cause of Trevor, right? Do you guys think we’re being targeted or something?”

“We don’t know who the suspect could be planning to attack next, but we want to err on the side of caution, since there’s a connection to you and your family’s farm. I’m sure you want answers, but that’s all I can tell you for now.”