Flawed Plan (A Crimson Falls Novella) Read online

  Copyright © 2019 Amabel Daniels

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editing by: C.J. Pinard with Expression Editing

  Cover Design by: Alora Kate with Cover Kraze

  Formatting by: Tadpole Designs

  Contents

  ABOUT CRIMSON FALLS

  2000

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  THANK YOU!

  THE CRIMSON FALLS NOVELLA SERIES

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ALSO BY AMABEL DANIELS

  ABOUT CRIMSON FALLS

  The worst place to be in early October is the town of Crimson Falls.

  In the late 1800’s, two brothers stumbled upon an unnamed village, surrounded by thick forest and fresh water to keep them protected and alive. The brothers were cruel men who wanted a home to call their own. In their darkest hour, the brothers slaughtered the villagers, dumping their bodies over the waterfall at the edge of town. People say the water ran red for weeks, giving the town its terrible name.

  Ever since that horrible anniversary, Crimson Falls is haunted by its past with a present filled with violence and danger. Every October is filled with fear...and for good reason. On October 13th, the dreaded Founders Day, all the town’s crime comes to a head. And by the 14th, fewer will be alive than before.

  Crimson Falls is a fictional town, created and shared by 8 mystery, suspense, and thriller authors. Each novella paints a picture about life in Crimson Falls and the insanity that takes place leading up to Founders Day.

  Do you dare to read them all?

  2000

  CHAPTER ONE

  OCTOBER 7, 2000

  Fifteen minutes remained until freedom. So few ticks on the clock, but still too long of a wait. To make sure time hadn’t reverted as some byproduct of Miss Bleason’s earlier lecture on derivatives, I glanced back at the clock. Nope. Still fourteen and a half more minutes to go.

  Sigh.

  I wasn’t ordinarily the type to begrudge my obligation to come to school. Sue me. I liked to learn. In a dinky little town like ours, what else was there to do but absorb as much information as possible before ditching home as soon as graduation?

  Since Miss Bleason had decided we’d earned some free worktime on today’s homework—which I’d already finished—I wasn’t learning anything here. Seemed no one else was gaining much education in the closure of this last period of the day either. Most of my senior classmates gossiped in little huddles, a couple of the richer kids played Tetris on their cell phones, and a few students attempted naps on their desks.

  It felt too much like an opportunity for socialization, and that was one disaster I’d always avoid. High school could be hell. In a small place like Crimson Falls, it really wasn’t that bad. Most days. All the lines had been drawn since kindergarten. The nicknames and types were assigned long ago. I’d been an outcast since six, and once I accepted my status, it was easy, more or less going with the flow. Going with the flow, however, meant avoiding the others.

  As I sat in my seat, I tried to mind my own business. If my best friend was in class, he’d welcome a chat. But no, Jackson was in another room for a free period since he’d already taken Pre-Calc at the school he’d transferred from.

  I couldn’t just sit here. First, I checked the shopping list Mom had written out for me—the essentials, and maybe that Neapolitan ice cream we liked, if it was on sale. Then I ensured I had the right books in my backpack since things sometimes fell out when the zipper didn’t work. After that, an unnecessary sip of water. Anything to keep me preoccupied and seemingly busy. I knew better than to think the bullying would only hit when I was idle. But busyness was a handy prop in deflecting the ugly words they saved for me.

  Yet, as the hand circled the clock at the slowest speed of all eternity, it seemed I didn’t need to worry. Around the curtain of my hair, I peeked at the worst instigators of trouble and relief whooshed out in a deep lungful. Whatever the trio of terrors could think to say or do to me must have fallen on a back burner, because as I studied them again, pushing my curls out of my vision to see them clearer, it seemed they had better prey.

  Better prey than me? Almost unbelievable. Yet, as they leaned their heads in closer to one another and spoke rapidly, I knew they weren’t discussing variables and equations. Only one thing put that glimmer of thrill in Ashlyn’s eyes, that devious curve of a grin on Tim’s lips, and the giddiness in Meg’s giggle.

  That was precisely what the three terrors of Falls High always looked like just before tormenting someone they deemed inferior. Read: everyone except them. Now, though, they hadn’t once glanced my way. So who would be the lucky recipient of their bullying this time?

  Narrowing my eyes, I let my backpack slump on my lap and watched them more closely.

  You’d think after twelve years of being in school with a hearing-impaired student they’d have learned that no discussion in the open could possibly be private. Resisting the urge to scoff, I read their lips, eager to know who they schemed upon, if not me.

  “Why Jackson, though?” Tim asked.

  Ashlyn huffed. “Because.”

  Jackson?

  I felt my forehead wrinkle.

  My Jackson? Jackson Gault, the “new” boy in town who’d started in the fourth quarter last year?

  I couldn’t fathom a single reason why Miss Perfect would target him. He had no flaws. Well, I was biased. Jackson had never once viewed me as a walking disability. He’d let me watch him practice playing the guitar occasionally. Sometimes he’d grab a late dinner at the diner when I was on a break. Jackson was my buddy. Maybe the single one I had in our hometown.

  Of course, he had no faults. Why would they pick on him?

  He was tall and muscled from his work on the farm. So smart, and wickedly awesome at covering AC/DC and Def Leppard hits. His ambitions knew no bounds, and he had his heart set on a scholarship for college out of state. When he wasn’t helping at home, he picked up shifts at the gas station, contributing to his family’s income. It would never make sense to me, but he was a die-hard Bruce Willis fan, but he abhorred Tom Cruise. Just last weekend I’d suggested we check out the new Mission Impossible when he said it was my turn to pick, and he’d smiled that goofy, tight-lipped grin and wrestled me in that one-armed hug—

  Well, okay. In short, he was perfect.

  A perfect friend. Worshipping the ground he walked on was a teensy little habit I’d prefer to keep to myself. Everyone had a crush at some time in life, right? Jackson was mine. First love and all that. But never anything to act on. I wouldn’t dare. How could I? We’d stuck each other in the friend zone from day one. I had no idea how to explain that he’d become so much more.

  “Jackson Gault…because why?” Tim asked and frowned at his twin sister. His downturned lips twisted up, creating a menacing sneer identical to his sibling’s.

  “Because he thinks he’s the shit, that’s why.” Ashlyn crossed her arms and stared at her nails, her inspection of her nail polish more worthy of her direct attention. Even though she didn’t need to look at her two partners in crime, a knowing smirk crossed
her face, an exact copy to Tim’s.

  I glowered. Jackson did not. He kept to himself and seemed not to care what others thought of him. He was politely jaded. Wisely cynical. Tough… See, he had no flaws.

  Meg laughed over Ashlyn’s words. Her perfect, too-white teeth flashed in the room’s lights as she cackled loudly. “What does it matter, Tim? Nothing else is happening around here.”

  “When is there ever anything happening here?” Ashlyn said.

  Nothing? Plenty of things were going on. Of course, their idea of boredom was something of a whine only the mayor’s spoiled kids could have. Meg shushed her. “You know what I mean. Everyone always gets all paranoid and hyped up with Founder’s Day coming.” Her brown curls bounced on her shoulders as she shrugged.

  “So let’s give Jackson a scare.”

  “What exactly are you thinking?” Tim asked.

  Scare? Huh. They were mixing up their MO. Normally, their goal was to put down others and absorb some self-gratifying pride from being able to do so. An osmosis of happiness. A scare, though? I wouldn’t put it past them, even if it had no clear gain for their pathetic esteem.

  “A prank,” the blonde announced to Tim and Meg.

  “Like how the chem lab burned down years ago?” Meg asked.

  Tim chuckled. “That wasn’t a prank. The chem teacher forgot he left a burner on at the end of the day.”

  Meg mock-gagged. “No, he didn’t. Rumor was some guy wanted to get back at someone and set his stuff on fire. On purpose.”

  “Oh, those are both rumors. Besides, I have something else in mind for Jackson.” Ashlyn’s lips curved in a Grinch grin so hard her eyes were lost in the smoky makeup.

  Meg patted the desk like a drum roll. “Come on, Ash! What’re you planning, then?”

  “Let’s egg his car.”

  Oh. Oh. All right. I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t a prank after all. This was jealousy. Jackson’s pride and joy—besides his guitar—might be a sore spot for the Vensel twins. Tim and Ashlyn both had very nice new cars. But neither of them could ever have the wow factor that Jackson’s vintage Vette did.

  “In the parking lot?” Tim jerked his chin in the direction of the school’s lot.

  Ashlyn shook her head. “Too many people to see.”

  “I’m not sneaking all the way out to their family farm in the boonies,” Meg said.

  I heard Mrs. Bleason speaking in the background, nagging with reminders about homework, but I crouched over my desk, refusing to stop witnessing the diabolical conversation across the room. No matter that they had to lower to whispering, I could still see their spoken words just fine.

  “How about on River Road? Let’s wait out on that old bridge stand and then—” Tim gestured throwing something, imitating how he’d wind up for his fast pitch on the varsity baseball team.

  Meg stood and slung her backpack on. “What time?”

  “Tonight, when he’s done at work. It’ll be dark by then.”

  Tim nodded at Ashlyn. “So…let’s say ten.”

  Ashlyn got to her feet. “Okay, we’ll—”

  Someone’s butt blocked my view as students moved to exit the room.

  Damn it.

  I craned my head around the obstacles of bodies, but Ashlyn and Meg were already walking away. Still talking, but their backs were to me. Tim rushed after them.

  Well, I’d gotten the gist of it. Egg his car? It seemed like a double meaning, to egg the car of someone whose family ran a farm that reared organically fed poultry.

  As I left the building and headed for where I’d locked my bike, I let my mind run with the questions and anger. How much could yolk damage a car like Jackson’s Vette? The paint? It couldn’t break a window… Could Tim even reliably hit a speeding car in the dark like that?

  Those close-minded, small-town, selfish, pain-in-the-butt bullies.

  Fury and annoyance with the Vensel twins and Meg Renard rose into a boil as I pedaled away from school and toward the diner. Why I still let them bother me, I’d never know—

  No. That wasn’t it. I was used to it. When they’d make fun of me, it was the same old. I’d realized long ago that they held no power over me. Their words and taunts wouldn’t break me. They’d never stop me from leaving this town and making something of myself somewhere else, in another place where having a slight lisp and not being able to hear high-pitched noises wouldn’t be ammo for ridicule.

  But this wasn’t about me, for a change. They’d set their bored attention on Jackson. He didn’t deserve this little trick. Heck, no one in Crimson Falls did. But especially not down-to-earth, wouldn’t-harm-a-fly Jackson.

  As I rode my bike past the gas station where Jackson would be starting his after-school cashier shift, I resolved to foil those bullies.

  Although I kept a tight schedule, I flicked my wrist to show the time. Damn. I’d have to save the day later. My shift of washing dishes at the diner would begin in ten minutes, so there was no chance now to inform my friend of Ashlyn’s plan for evil. After the dinner rush, I’d get my one break for the night. It’d be my only slot of opportunity to grab the items on Mom’s grocery list, chow down something of a meal for myself, and bike over to warn Jackson.

  Easy peasy. He could just drive home another way. Might take him a half an hour longer to circumvent all of Crimson Falls, but it’d be safer.

  And that’d show Ashlyn and her little cronies. A grin split my face as I anticipated the glee of knowing I’d deprive them of satisfying their stupid prank.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A frown tugged on my chilled skin as I pumped my legs to pedal faster that evening. It wasn’t often, but occasionally there were actual dinner rushes at the sole diner in town. Of course, one had to happen tonight. Something about a power outage and downed phone lines on the nicer side of town, which naturally set tongues wagging that it was the curse and ancient jinx on Crimson Falls. God. They were all a bunch of superstitious old folks. Probably something related to the wind and rain from the storm passing through. Sheesh. There was no denying crime happened everywhere—though, perhaps more in Crimson Falls than other towns—but I’d never been one to believe in the paranormal nonsense.

  I was, however, a firm believer in my inability to be in two places at once. Which was why I was biking as fast as I could to get to the gas station where Jackson would be ringing in the infrequent customer. Or maybe the power outage got him there too? Maybe he’d already gone home for the night.

  What I wouldn’t give for a cell phone. Only a handful of the well-off teens had them.

  If the lines weren’t down, I could have asked my boss to borrow the diner phone and call Jackson. But that would’ve meant explaining this stupid prank in front of all the old-timers eating at the diner’s front counter. Not exactly on par with my whole avoiding-people gig. And if I dared to speak ill of the golden Vensel twins, I’d be the bad guy. Like I always was when I thought to report their mischief. Biggest reason why I’d adopted the avoiding townsfolk motto to begin with.

  So here I was, biking in the night chill to rush into the gas station. Lights shone from the small station’s building, but once I ran inside, I found the owner flipping through the pages in a magazine at the check-out counter, not Jackson.

  “Renee?” He stood a little straighter and flicked to the next page. “What’re you doing here?” Perhaps recalling Jackson was my friend, and hopefully not the fact I tagged along with him every chance I could get, he shoved off the counter some more. “Ohhh. You looking for that boy?”

  Wipe that cheesy grin off your face. I nodded, still gasping for air.

  You’d think I’d never ridden a stinking bike before. I yearned for a phone? Okay, well, a vehicle was on my dream list too. Not seeing Jackson tripped my adrenaline, and an uneasy dread coiled in my stomach. Kind of lousy conditions for catching one’s breath.

  “Mrs. Sloan ran out of gas on the other side of the park.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I asked Jack to run some out to her
.”

  “Jackson.”

  “That’s what I said—” He coughed. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

  Yeah, yeah. I was supposed to be “deaf.” Did Crimson Falls folks think Principal Davis was blind because he wore glasses? No, he was just nearsighted. But me, oh, I was the “deaf girl.” Deaf, my butt. All that was missing from my auditory ability were the higher-pitches, like pronouncing the letter s. Everything else? I heard more than I cared to hear, and I heard him fine. “His name’s Jackson.” Jackson. Not Jack.

  “Uh huh.”

  I cleared my throat, raw from the exercise in the chilly air. “When will he be back?” And how could an elderly woman who never left town run out of fuel? Jeez.

  It was still pointless to ask. If Jackson didn’t reappear in ten seconds, I wouldn’t have time to warn him and make it back to work.

  The gas station owner shrugged. “Fifteen minutes?”

  I winced. Could I write it down? What would I say? Anything I penned would be read by this nosy doofus. Don’t drive home on River Road after work. Trust me. Or, maybe: Watch out for flying eggs! And that would be assuming Jackson would even receive the message.

  “Okay…” I didn’t have time to stand here and dilly dally. I shuddered, the brisk ride in the October air leaving lingering goosebumps under my layers. Biking wasn’t much fun during this season of the year, but it sure beat walking or mooching rides from Jackson. There wasn’t a moment I regretted whenever I could be Jackson’s passenger, but the dependence on him, the possibility of his pity? I hated it. Then again, he’d never expressed anything but friendly companionship. “Um, what time is he off tonight?”