Page 16 of The Sweetest Note

Derek physically shudders, and I watch him with concern.Now or never.

“About that,” Derek says, clearing his throat. “I followed Lennon out to the parking lot, and Carrie O’fucking Reilly was waiting for us. I know it sounds insane, but she faked her death somehow. Lennon said she sold everything and left, but I thought it was odd when she was telling me this before that it was so easy for her to do without a death certificate. Even in our small town.”

Greg opens his computer with a frown. “Has anyone thought to look up her death certificate? It has to be filed somewhere, even if she died in a car accident, miles from home,” he muses. Greg starts to do a search on his laptop, and I assume he’s looking for some kind of death certificate for Carrie O’Reilly.

“There was never any need to,” I tell him with a shrug. “Lennon said her mom died before she left town to start her own life, and I never questioned it. Her mom wasn’t the best parent, and I think Lennon felt free once she found out. Someone sent her a letter that said her mom had died in a car accident. Her mom skipped town in a manic episode, and Lennon waited to see if she would come back or not.”

Layla takes a deep breath as she listens to us. “I get the feeling that Lennon is very loyal, and she didn’t want to leave if there was a chance her mom would come back.”

“Exactly,” Derek says with a nod. “I got the feeling Carrie’s been watching her for a while. I also think she drugged Lennon’s candy because it’s her habitual guilty pleasure. Her mom mentioned that she had tried once before with her water bottle. Wait, didn’t you or Turner say there was a woman with Larsen when you were checking security cameras?” he asks with a frown.

Jordan nods and starts pulling it up on his computer.

“Selfish cow,” Turner growls. “Lennon was so loopy from those drugs, and we found her in an alley hours later. She must not have expected her to leave the stadium and not had time to take her then.”

“I remember,” Derek mutters under his breath ruthfully. “Carrie said she needed to disappear, and that’s why she sent Lennon the letter. She said she needed her now, and Lennon needed to remember her promise. I don’t know what that promise was, but our girl fell to the ground about that time from the effects of the drugs. I was fucking done with her shit, and went to Lennon to get her away from her mother. But… Carrie fucking tased me, and the last thing I remember was Lennon’s wide eyes filled with horror. I couldn’t save her. Fuck, I couldn’t save myself,” he sighs.

Derek stares down at his feet, and my heart hurts. This wasn’t his fault, but he’s taking it really hard. “I started to wake up right before Larsen went to toss me out of their car into the middle of nowhere.”

Derek raises his eyes to ours and there’s so much pain in his gaze that it takes my breath away. “Fucker tased me again for funsies, and I woke up in the desert with a coyote contemplating if he should take a bite out of me.”

Jordan turns his computer around and Derek gets up to look at the stills that were pulled from the cameras. “Yeah, that’s her. She looks almost exactly like Lennon outside of her hair color and eyes, but also has the tiniest hands,” Derek scowls at the phone, pursing his lips in disgust. “God I fucking hate her so much,” he mutters. Collapsing back into his chair, he continues to stare unseeingly at the computer screen. “I scared the coyote away, and then started walking. I hitchhiked back, and I still don’t know where they took Lennon. I was passed out for most of the ride out of town,” he explains.

“Shit,” Jordan says, blowing out a breath. “What about—”

I never find out what he was going to say, because his computer beeps loudly. Frowning, Jordan taps on the notification pop up and his eyes widen.

“Turn on the news. Channel six, right now. That was a notification that Lennon is being talked about in a story,” Jordan barks. I scramble for the remote, turning on the news.

Fuck, please be good news.

A reporter is standing in front of the stadium we played at, speaking as I turn it on.

“We got a tip at the station this morning that Lennon O’Reilly was checked into a private hospital last night. She was found walking through the streets of Albuquerque in a manic state, hallucinating and talking about her mother. Lennon’s mother passed away ten years ago in a car accident, so there’s no way she could have seen her,” the reporter continues and I snarl in anger. This woman is lying.

“There’s no fucking report or death certificate,” Greg yells at the television, and somehow it makes me feel a bit better to not be the only one angry.

Turner squeezes the glass he’s holding so tightly that it breaks and he curses, dropping the pieces on the side table. I can’t bring myself to ask if he’s alright, my eyes glued again to the train wreck happening on the screen.

“Lennon has had a very rigorous tour schedule, and there are rumors her fans were worried about her pace. Prescott Jones, her previous manager, stated that Lennon almost fell off the stage when she played in San Francisco. Prescott is no longerThe Darkest Nights’manager because she spoke out about how worried she was about Lennon,” the reporter says, smoothing her hair as if she’s not lying her ass off. A collage of photos begin to fill the screen, and a few look damning.

Lennon dancing in traffic, the night she was drugged are a few of the photos and I swallow. There weren’t any photos on social media afterwards, so I figured no one had recognized her. There are others of her laughing in my arms at the concert between Turner and I, and another of when she got dizzy on stage. They tell the very untrue story of someone who was spiraling.

“That fucking snake,” Derek gasps.

My phone rings and I glance down at it. “Yeah, Albert?” I answer, having a feeling I already know what this is about. I lift my phone, making eye contact with Derek to remind him to set his up. Rolling his eyes he goes to grab it, only to have Jordan snag it from him, fingers flying across the keys to set it up with his phone number. Smirking at how efficient that was, I focus on Albert.

“Channel six is talking about Lennon right now on the news, and it’s not good. It’s also a crock of shit,”he says angrily.

“Yeah, we’re watching now. Thanks, man. I’m hoping we find some direction to start looking for her from this. Good looking out,” I tell him before hanging up.

Jordan quietly passes the phone to Derek once he’s done setting up the new phone, and we all turn back to the television.

The reporter simpers to the camera, and I want to wrap my hands around her throat and fucking squeeze. I am rarely this violent towards women, but goddamn I hate this one.

“Her label has not had any comment for us, but we promise to continue to push for answers. Lennon is a young and promising artist, and it’s very sad to see her like this. We don’t know what hospital she was checked into, but we are thankful for the Good Samaritan who noticed how erratic she was behaving.”

The reporter’s eyes widen as she listens to something in her ear piece before looking back at the camera. “It appears Lennon was transferred to her home state by a relative. We are unsure who the relative is, but I got word there’s more information on her well-being, so we are going to switch over to our sister station.”

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