Chapter 4

My stomach kept rolling over and over, and I imagined my tissues folding into themselves to form a tight, convoluted mass of pure anxiety. The air conditioning was at optimum temperature, nearly mirroring the chilliness of the outside world, yet a trickle of hot sweat ran down the length of my back. I know I can be cowardly most times, but the angst this time was a result of the tension enveloping the room, especially the one brewing between Don and Mr. Fremund, and a tidbit of guilt welled up in me for bringing the older man into the picture, but someone had to talk sense into Don.

Mr. Fremund cleared his throat, causing everyone to hone their attention on him, and he stared meaningfully at Don as he began, “I’m going to cut straight to the chase and tell you how disappointed I am by the reports I’m getting about your recent behavior.”

Beside me, Don huffed and bounced on his seat but said nothing. The lawyer continued, “You know how much we fought to resolve the case and save you from a wasted life behind bars, but for some reason, you’re insistent on pursuing this...this quest.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together and lowering his voice, “Tell me, son, what is it you want? Attention?”

I gasped as Don immediately burst up from his seat and yelled, “How about revenge?! How about a desire to find out exactly what led my girlfriend to fucking jump to her death?!”

Sam mumbled between bites of her food, “And the bipolar devil shows up...” and trailed off when I cut her a nasty look.

I lifted my hands to Don’s elbow and tried tracing my fingers across it soothingly, but Sam was right—he was far too gone to be pacified. His face was a blooming red bordering on purple, and the veins in his forehead popped out starkly as he glared furiously at Mr. Fremund.

He reached out to point a shaky finger at the man as he kept shouting, “You, of all people, should understand this! I can’t eat, sleep, or fucking think without the thoughts consuming me. And the rest of you...” I actually jumped in my seat when he looked at me and Sam with his blazing cerulean orbs, “seem to be just fine with it. As if Amelia deserves no justice, but guess what? She does! And I’m gonna fight with every fiber in me until I uncover this mystery.”

Well...that isn’t the worst thing I’ve heard him say.

He glanced at Mr. Fremund once more, daring the man to respond. Which is exactly what the older man did. He rose from his swiveling chair and silently padded over to one of the many figurine shelves on the wall, reaching up to pick up a slim brown envelope encased between the decorative items before coming over to Don and handing it out to him.

My handsome but oh-so-stupid friend eyed the package warily but snatched it anyway and, with painstakingly slow motions, proceeded to open the envelope. When my line of vision shifted entirely, I knew I was leaning far into Don’s seat, and from my periphery, I noticed Sam leaning forward, too, her nearly finished sandwich encased loosely in her hand.

“You want to get to the bottom of this?” Mr. Fremund asked, annoyance already blatant in his tone. “Then read the letter and tell me what you think.”

I raised my gaze in a split second to meet Don’s, and the apprehension in his blue orbs mirrored the one I felt thumping in my veins. I couldn’t get a proper look at what the letter contained; I could only make out a jumble of letters, but whatever Don saw inside made him leap to his feet and spit at Mr. Fremund, “Fuck you!” before sweeping past the rest of us and slamming the door on his way out.

I looked from the door to a blank-faced Mr. Fremund and opened my mouth to ask what just happened when the lawyer beat me to it,

“Trust me. He won’t be messing with any of this for a very long time.” His lips quirked up just slightly at the corner, betraying his apparent satisfaction, and he went to sit down.

Sam wolfed down the rest of the sandwich and planted her hands on the rests of her seat. “So... Don’s cured?”

Mr. Fremund tipped his head to her and replied, “More or less?”

We sank into a bout of silence and waited for the lawyer to continue. The elegant clock on the wall ticked on and on and on, and my fingers began tapping an unconscious rhythm on my seat. Mr. Fremund was relaxed into his swivel chair, seemingly lost in thought as he ran his pale hands along the length of his jaw in slow, repeated strokes. Sam looked outright ready to burst out of her skin with how twitchy she was, and her eyes were bright with impatience.

She blinked once at me, and I returned the gesture. Something told me that whatever was inside that envelope wasn’t meant for general eyes, and I had no intention of asking Mr. Fremund to tell, no matter how badly I wanted to know.

“Asher!”

I ignored Sam’s urgent whisper and rose to my feet, turning to Mr. Fremund and muttering, “As long as Don is gonna stop his foolish quest for revenge, I’m perfectly alright.”

The older man looked up at me with a now morose expression as he rumbled, “I wouldn’t be too certain when it comes to Donovan Miner. That lad has a penchant for standing firmly on whatever he deems important to him. Still, what he just clearly witnessed should be enough to deter him from furthering his actions.”

I started to nod and say my thanks when Sam stumbled up to stand beside me and breathed ever so curiously, “And what, pray tell, did he witness?”

I grabbed the hem of her hoodie and hissed, “Sam!”

She swatted my fingers away and stared intently at Mr. Fremund as if her gaze was going to make him talk. The lawyer just blinked at her and said coolly, “It’s nothing you should concern yourself with.”

“But I want to know,” Sam insisted. She stared to the side at me, sporting an appealing look. I knew she wanted me to join her in pressing Mr. Fremund for details, but I wasn’t going to. That would just make me Donovan 2.0.

Mr. Fremund shook his head regretfully and sighed, “The less you know, the better for all of you. In the meantime, keep an eye on Don, and don’t hesitate to inform me if he runs off playing detective again.”

I nodded and managed a grateful smile at him. “Thanks a lot, Mr. Fremund, and don’t worry, we’ll keep you posted on everything.” I grabbed Sam’s hoodie again and started pulling her to the door.

She dug her feet into the ground in an attempt to resist, but my toned arms easily forced her to keep up. She sputtered, “A-Asher? B-but...”

I opened the door and turned to wave at Mr. Fremund, “Bye, and thanks again!” Then I pulled Sam out and shut the door.

A breath of relief whooshed out of my lungs when I stepped out into the street. At last, Don was going to leave all this behind him, and we could go on to have a blissful school year. He was already slacking behind...well... everything; his academics and soccer, and if he would just be reasonable and leave the past for the past, he could pick up from where his life seemed to have literally hit the pause button. I, on the other hand, need a good vacation from all the Don hunting I’ve been doing for the past weeks.

We finally reached the car, and just as I was about to open the door to the passenger seat, something, or rather, someone, rammed into me and made me pivot around a full 360 degrees.

Now to face Sam.

I kept my face blank as I took note of her fuming expression and mentally began scrambling the nearest burger shop so I wouldn’t get it too bad. Her slender arms were crossed gracefully albeit tightly over her chest, and I swear, her bottom lip jutted out a little bit.

“You better start talking.”

I raised my hands in a motion of appeal and explained, “You heard what Mr. Fremund said; the less we know about...whatever happened there, the better. Don has already snooped around far more than he should have. We can’t join the bandwagon as well.”

Her face softened as she sighed, “I get it, Asher. I really do. But if we want to see to the end of all this, we have to be a step ahead of Donovan.”

I raised my eyebrows at her, “Use fire to fight the fire, eh?”

She railed me in the bicep and stalked to the other side, opening the door and sliding in. I did the same, and when she started the ignition, she sighed, “You know what? You’re right. Let’s just forget about all of this.”

I smiled and nodded at her.

“But you owe me dinner for the way you dragged me out of Fremund’s office,” she continued, “You had a girl looking like a mess. A hot one, but still.”

A giggle escaped me, and I reached across to hug her.

“I owe you the world for being such a good friend, Sam, and of course, you’ll have whatever you’re craving. My treat.”

Something in her facial expression made me feel like I said something wrong, but before I could ask what the issue was, she brushed it off with her signature mischievous chuckle and wiggled out of my hold before singing, “Yeah yeah,” and zooming off.