Book cover of “It Wasn't Donovan. Book 2“ by Mary

It Wasn't Donovan. Book 2

  • Genre: Young Adult
  • Status: Completed
  • Language: English
  • Author: Mary
In a quest for justice, Donovan Miner's acquittal is just the beginning. Unsatisfied by the court's verdict, he seeks revenge for his girlfriend's tragic suicide. Against all advice, he delves into the neglected mysteries surrounding her death, unearthing a sinister cult with unimaginable power. Now, Donovan and his unlikely ally, Asher, are thrust... 

Chapter 1

“I’m sorry, I’m looking for a guy, ‘this tall,’ blonde...”

“Donovan Miner? The rascal just can’t stay out of trouble, can he?” The restaurant owner leered. “First, it was murder. What is it this time?”

I didn’t expect anyone in this small city to forget about Don. Not much seemed to happen here, so Don was naturally famous for his murder case, especially as the case got twisted at the end...to our favor.

“Well, he’s not in trouble,” I said in his defense. “I just lost sight of him for a while... you know...” My voice wavered when my brain realized the stupidity of the excuse. The chubby-cheeked man stared at me with a brow up in disbelief.

“He just left my shop a while ago. Pestered some men until they threatened to beat him.”

Ahh.

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll be on my way. I think I have an idea where he’s headed next.” Nope, I did not have the slightest clue.

“Eh, boy,” he called out to me as I opened the door to leave. “Don’t get into any trouble with the Donovan guy, eh? He’s a piece of work, that one.”

“I’ll m-ma...make sure not to,” I stuttered and let myself out before I embarrassed myself further in simple conversations.

Where was this guy? It was bad enough that he was missing school more days in the week than there were actually days in a week. I was sure that the threats of beating that the restaurant owner mentioned were the least that might have happened to him. The bruises on his face the last time I saw him said so.

Right now, there were a lot of guesses on my mind but nothing too certain for now. If I was going to find him, I was going to get myself into the case.

Yes, Don was still looking for who murdered his girlfriend...or at least who drove her to suicide. It seemed, for some reason, his very acquittance from the crime wasn’t enough for him. He really just felt like getting himself killed would be the best way to handle the situation. How he had even gotten this far was a real mystery to me. He kept saying he had gotten some leads, digging himself deeper and deeper into the spiral I was sure was going to come back to him because it was a circle. 

The girl had committed suicide.

Plain and simple.

Who drove her to it, I didn’t think would be of any consequence to the law, really, unless we were able to use their circumstances against them— the whole dr*g thing. That, I was sure, I wasn’t ready for. The whole litigation process was going to be too tiring for any lawyer without proper motivation to take up for free, and I was sure Don and I combined didn’t have the money to pay for one.

Mr. Fremund had already made his own stand against the case, so he was on a dead end there. Unless he was planning on bringing the retribution via his own hands, which, of course, against a bunch of dr*g p***lers and barons, I wasn’t sure he’d stand a chance.

‘So, where could he possibly be?’ That was my present predicament. I had already found my next suspicion before the question finished asking itself in my head, but I was going to have to wait till sundown, at least, before going there.

“A stalker three months ago and a lurker now,” I mumbled to myself as I ambled my way to the bus station. Sam had left me to look for something to eat—as usual—and I was sure I had gone more than three miles from wherever I knew. With any luck, I’d catch a bus going north. I was sure I could find my way from three miles north of... wherever I was at the moment.

Alighting at the very heart of St. Avenston, I scanned the parking lot for Sam’s car to satisfy myself with the fact that she had left for home and went to the cafeteria to fetch myself something for my aching stomach.

‘There has to be a better way to live,’ I mentally conversed with myself as I took a huge bite of my cheeseburger, for once not minding the eyes that stared at me in discontent. My stomach was more vexed with me than they’ll ever be.

‘Yeah, maybe when Don is safe.’

‘Why do you even care?’

‘Why do I even care?’

Good question. Why did I care? I guess Don was more than just a crush now. He was my friend. 

‘We care for friends,’ I told myself and took another bite of my burger, practically finishing the whole thing off and swallowing it whole. I needed another one...maybe two more, but for decency and awareness’ sake, I decided to have them to-go.

Armed with my two cheeseburgers, a backpack containing more than I’m sure was necessary to find a guy who wasn’t even missing, and my very own fallible wits and socialization abilities, I headed out into the naked Linconsteinian twilight for the “blalah-somethingth” time hoping to not return empty-handed this time. Before the clock struck eight, I was nestled comfortably in the best seat of the club, my definition of best being the one with the best viewing angles plus one where you’re least likely to be approached.

This place had everything I wanted in a place of entertainment and everything I didn’t. The pulsing lights threw different shades at my eyes, each one tinting my vision for a short while before the shades changed colors again. I felt like an AMOLED screen in an overactive children’s movie...not like I knew what that specifically felt like, but still...

The most prevalent feeling, however, was the nostalgic feeling of oppression. Amelia was tied to a pole just three tables up and coated fully in a white powdery s*bstance everyone concluded to be c****ne, dancing like she didn’t want to. Tears streamed down her face, tainting the otherwise perfect layer of the illicit substance coating her face and all, making her look like the perfect impression of a horror movie. One more thing. She was completely nude.

Those images were going to stay with me forever, and the more I thought about it, the faster I wanted to leave this place.

But now, all I had to do was wait. This could be of two consequences. I either wouldn’t see that rascal, or I’d see him and have to fight him again. I really hoped for the latter. A bird in the hand was better than three in the bush.

Back-and-forth texts were flying between Sam and me, along with pictures and short videos of what I was seeing. The strippers, the dr*gs...everything. I didn’t know whether to be grateful for the morals my parents instilled in me or regret it because had it not been to find Don, I wouldn’t have been here, and once that singular task is completed, I’d have no business here. It did scare me to think I actually looked at the place with more disdain than awe, but just as my nerves were relaxing and I was considering picking a favorite dancer, I spotted the most familiar splotch of blonde.

Don.

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