Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 8

Rachel had taught Calla her most important lesson: how to blend in. How to survive.

And how did Calla repay her? By breaking that simplest of lessons.

By killing her damn cousin.

Calla's mind wandered to her sock drawer. The sock drawer, of all places. It had

seemed like a great idea at the time. Where better to hide a murder weapon?

Calla still couldn't believe she'd found that knife, buried barely

six inches in the ground under the old oak tree. She hadn't had time to analyze it.

She'd barely had time to wash it off before stowing it, frantic to hide the evidence.

But she had no doubts: the knife would be a match for the missing blade from the

Smith's kitchen. Which really left her with only one conclusion.

I killed Tracy Smith.

On her left, Rosalind buried a sneeze. The jolt brought Calla back to the present. She

blinked. Warm bodies surrounded her, pressing in.

"And yea," the preacher boomed out from the head of the church, his gelatinous

arms outreached toward the crowd, "though I walk through the valley of the shadow

of death, I will fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort

me."

"Tracy didn't even like church," Rachel murmured to her right, tears catching in her

throat. "She said people who went to church were sanctimonious pieces of—"

"Rachel," Patricia Smith hissed from her other side. She gripped her daughter's

hand, hellfire in her hazel eyes.

"She would hate this." Rachel's chin jutted out defiantly.

She would, Calla thought, her eyes straying over to the sleek black casket, the base

blanketed with a thick layer of white roses. And she'd hate those tacky white roses,

too.

Calla said as much under her breath. Rachel choked back a horrified laugh.

The preacher made a few more closing remarks. Rachel held her tongue just long

enough for him to bid the mourners farewell before turning back to Calla, her eyes

gleaming with tears.

Yet the words that spilled out were fierce and full of loathing. "Guess who didn't

show?"

Calla raised an eyebrow and twisted around, one arm braced against the back of the

wooden pew. She scanned the crowd; most of the faces were familiar to her.

"There's a lot of people here, Rach."

"Gareth," Rachel hissed. She pushed Calla's cheek to the right, steering her line of

sight. "That pig."

Calla swallowed back a retort. Of course Gareth hadn't shown his face. The kid had

been screwing Tracy behind Astrid's back since the eighth grade. The whole town

knew about his indiscretions. Calla imagined he didn't relish the thought of sitting

through a funeral service for his side piece.

She kept her thoughts to herself as she turned back to Rachel. "Well, yeah. He's a

piece of..." Her eyes flickered over to her mother, who had stood to give Patricia a

hug. "You know."

An angry tear spilled down Rachel's cheek. Before she could sweep it away—and

destroy her makeup in the process—Calla reached up and dabbed at her skin with a

spare tissue.

Rachel softened almost immediately. "Calla...I don't think I can do this." Her eyes

darted to a spot just over Calla's shoulder. "Jess and Astrid—"

" You're the one who's grieving." Calla forced the tissue into Rachel's hand. "You

don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to. They'll understand. I can go over and explain, if you want me to."

The relief translated to more tears. Rachel gripped her in a fierce hug, her voice a

whisper when she said, "Thank you."

"No problem." Calla stood and readjusted the hem of her dress. She gave her

mother a one second gesture before squeezing through the crowd that had gathered

around Tracy's coffin. She reappeared on the other side, unscathed. Stephanie

flagged her down, standing to grab her attention.

Calla approached and allowed Stephanie to pull her into a hug. "Hey."

"This is awful. " Stephanie stepped back. Jessica took her place, pulling Calla

into a stiff, awkward embrace.

"Rach is upset." Calla wasted no words. "She wanted to come over, but..."

"We get it." Jessica gave Calla a superficial smile. Something in her expression

made Calla think she was trying to come across as sympathetic.

Her efforts were wasted.

"We can grab coffee or something after practice one day. That'll cheer her up,"

Jessica went on, oblivious to the somber atmosphere hanging about the church like

a wet blanket. "Ugh. But your practice runs so late , Cal Gal. I guess we can always

wait," she added, as if this simple act of decency was worth any praise.

Calla gritted her teeth against the sound of Jessica's pet name for her: Cal Gal.

Jessica had been playing this game with Calla since middle school. She, Stephanie,

Astrid and Rachel had been on the cheer squad together for years; Calla, on the

other hand, had taken to the four hundred meter dash. Shaking pom-poms simply

wasn't in her nature. Chasing down her competitors, on the other hand...

It gave Calla a deadly rush.

Nevertheless, Calla's resistance against cheer had driven a wedge between her and

Jessica. For reasons unknown, the other girl simply couldn't let the matter go. Every

topic, no matter how inconsequential, tied back into cheer. Tied back into the fact

that Calla was not of their cheer cult.

She was separate.

Calla offered a warm smile. "Coffee would be great. I know she'll appreciate it."

Rachel would hate it, in fact. She would view the gesture as shallow. Let that be a

problem for Jessica to fix. Far be it from Calla to let her take the fall for her own

vapid stupidity.

"We could grab a coffee now," Stephanie offered, her eyes bouncing between the

two girls.

"Don't be insensitive," Jessica said, aghast.

"Tracy's body is still warm," Astrid agreed, her dark skin lustrous even in the

unflattering light of the church. The two girls shared a look.

Stephanie flushed and said nothing.

"See you guys later," Calla murmured, turning and disappearing back into the crowd.

She wasn't sure what to make of the exchange. Stephanie's suggestion had been

innocent enough.

The crowd had thinned considerably by the time Calla made it back to Rachel's side.

She turned just in time to catch Jessica, Stephanie, and Astrid escaping through the

front door; the sheriff's daughter and longtime boyfriend Steven Lowry were right on

their heels, together with his troublemaking friend Trevor Miles.

She could practically feel their grief fall away as they stepped through those church

doors. Whatever tears they'd shed, whatever lies they'd fed one another...it would

all be forgotten by the time their keys were in the ignition.

Rachel wouldn't be leaving her grief here today. She'd be carrying it around for the rest of her life.

Calla was just about to turn back around when she caught sight of Vincent and

Cooper loitering by the door. Vincent stared ahead, his focus elsewhere. But Cooper

watched her warily, a question in his eyes.