Page 175 of Whistle

Lance swallowed, turning his face to the side. “I’m sorry I can’t make you happy, Emmett. I can’t seem to make anyone happy.”

My head cleared the surface of the water only to be pummeled by another wave, sweeping my body into a nearby rock. I barely felt the hit. My limbs were so cold that every part of me was numb…

“The body of a Westbrook University freshman was found on the edge of Lackawaxen River by a local fisherman early this morning. Authorities were notified, and the body has been identified. At this time, the identity of the student is being withheld until the family can be notified. Details will follow, as this is still an active investigation.”

It couldn’t be. It wasn’t.

Fumbling, I shoved my shaking hand into my sweats to pull out my phone and dial. It rang once and then went straight to voicemail.

“This is Lance. You know what to do.”

Grabbing my keys, I raced out of the dorm room, ignoring the calls from my teammate behind me. My brain was a jumbled mess of terror and optimism as I drove to the river where the body had been found.

The bridge was blocked off, caution tape fluttering in the wind. Red and blue lights flickered through the cloudy sky, and the sound of rushing water echoed from below. I parked on the edge of the road and ignored the officer who told me to get back in the car and leave.

A rough hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me around.

Whatever he saw on my face made him recoil.

“Please,” I rasped. “Just let me look.”

The man nodded, removing his hold on my arm.

I ducked under the tape, my sneaker stepping onto the bridge. Everything looked normal, nothing out of place.

But I knew. I knew.

Unable to cry, I walked along the side, eyes gritty and ears deaf.

I didn’t know what I was looking for. Maybe nothing. Maybe proof. But the more I walked, the sicker I became, and I realized I didn’t need proof.

A pebble skidded across the pavement with the force of my stop, and I turned to the railing to look out over the river and the rocks and trees lining the edges. A sob caught in my throat, scraping over my vocal cords.

I still didn't cry.

Wrapping my hands around the railing, I stepped close enough to feel the cold metal through my clothes.

“Excuse me.” A woman wearing a uniform approached but knew enough not to get too close.

I didn’t look at or acknowledge her, just continued to stare.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“What happened?” I heard myself ask.

“I can’t discuss details of an ongoing?—”

“I loved him.” I wet my lips. “Just tell me it wasn’t him.”

“What’s the name of the person you love?”

“Lance Black.”

She said nothing, but her silence was loud.

I leaned heavier into the railing, hanging my head over the top.

“Hey,” she called, alarmed and quickly stepping closer.

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