Not Guilty

Chapter One

This was going to be his winning year—the championship, the scholarship, and the right girl. Devon already had one win chalked up—Kristen Wright. In a few weeks, he’d nail that championship. Then he’d reel in the basketball scholarship. School of his choice.

Yo, champ! Colin’s shout came from down the hall.

Devon shut his locker and raised his arm in a salute. Not yet. But oh so close. He could feel it. He tipped his head toward the cafeteria. Come on. I’m low on fuel.

On the way down the hall, he barely felt the floor underfoot. He didn’t try to cover the grin. He’d hovered over earth ever since last Saturday’s awesome game. No, last Saturday’s more than super-awesome game. The Tsunamis had controlled the ball almost the whole time, and he’d never missed a basket. They were on their way to the varsity state basketball championships, and Oceanside High all but held that trophy by its silver-plated handles. Devon’s palms tingled, already feeling the excitement. The high point of his junior year was only a little more than four weeks ahead.

Devon pushed through the cafeteria door and stopped short when cheers drowned out the buzz of the lunch crowd.

Go, Carlyle!

Go, Tsunamis!

Colin stood alongside him and pumped his arms.

Knock it off, grandstander. He soft-jabbed his friend, and to damp down the excitement inside, Devon took a plate and started with a generous plop of mashed potatoes. He’d carb out today. With trays loaded, the two of them made for their usual table.

They passed Simon, who scowled at them then turned his back. He’d been off his jump shots during most of the game. The more mistakes Simon made, the worse he played. Devon would have felt sorry for the guy if he wasn’t always such a jerk, on and off the court.

Once Coach took Simon out, the Tsunamis won in a walk.

Pinky McCloud gave them the thumbs up on their way past his table, but Devon acted as if he hadn’t seen it. Pinky was nothing but trouble.

Colin patted Devon on the back. You couldn’t miss a shot out there last night, man.

Nothing made Devon feel better than kudos from his best friend. But he already knew he’d been at the top of his game, exactly where he meant to stay.

We’ve got it made this year, Colin said, pulling out a chair and straddling it with his long legs.

Devon set down his tray. We’ve worked our butts off for this. Here’s to the Tsunamis! Numero Uno!

Silently, he saluted himself. College scouts would be at those playoffs, including one for every school he planned to apply to. All he had to do was play like he had Saturday night, and he’d have a scholarship in the bag. By the time he graduated next year, he’d have everything he’d always wanted: a great college, basketball, and money to help out with his room and board.

Leaning across to Devon, Colin whispered, Susan at eleven o’clock.

Devon choked and swiped at his mouth. There was no place to hide, and he couldn’t duck out the door because Susan stood in the way. She still stalked him even though he’d broken up with her months ago. He shielded his eyes with one hand. Please tell me she’s not coming our way.

No can do.

Devon got to his feet, but Susan blocked him.

Hi, Dev. She stood there with that look of How can you possibly not want me anymore? Her blouse gaped, showing off some sexy lace, and her jeans snugged against her thighs. Skin couldn’t be any closer on a body. Before he could duck, she stroked his chin. You can’t stay mad at me forever.

He took her wrist and was pushing her hand away when he looked up into Kristen’s dark eyes. She hurled sparks across the cafeteria. Before he could stop her, she stomped out of the room.

Damn it, Susan. Thanks a lot.

Better go after her, Dev, Colin said. Then he took Susan by the arm and guided her away. You are a very bad girl. You know that, don’t you?

Devon caught Kristen at the lockers. Her face streamed tears. He tried to pull her to him, but she pushed him away. Come on, babe. That was Susan being Susan. You know how I feel about her. Besides, I’d never hurt you by cheating. She taught me how that feels.

I’m through. This is the second time I’ve caught you with her—her breath caught in her throat—since we’ve been together. So much for your so-called breakup.

You’ve got it wrong. Susan’s and my breakup was absolutely real. I mean, her with Renzo Costa? On the couch in front of everybody? He reached for her again, but she dodged him. All right. What do you want me to say? I care a lot about you. You know that. You know we have something good together.

Had. But not anymore. From around her neck, Kristen tugged the chain with the heart-shaped locket he’d given her. She held it out. You can take this back.

I don’t want it. It’s yours.

I don’t want it. Kristen hung the chain on a locker, and before he could stop her, she fled down the hall.

The second time? What was she talking about? Then it hit him. Susan’s battery was dead after school one day and he’d jumped her car. He’d do that for anyone. Hurt by her blaming him unfairly, he slammed his fist against the locker, drawing blood across his knuckles, then he snatched the heart-shaped locket. Kristen! he shouted after her. Let’s talk.

She didn’t stop or look back. He called after her again, but she turned the corner and was out of sight.

Damn it!

The bell rang, and the hall filled with kids on their way to class. The day had gone from one of his best to one of the worst. He shoved the locket into his jeans then stomped down the hall and into class. Of course, today, good old Peabody would give a pop quiz on the short story he’d only skimmed. At the moment, he could care less about F. Scott Fitzgerald. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about Dexter Green or his failed life. What he cared about was losing the one girl he’d come to really care about. To trust. She’d put him back together after what Susan had done to him, and when he was with her, she made him happy. She was beautiful, yes, but really fun and definitely not all into herself, like Susan.

He couldn’t think about anything except the empty desk in front of him where Kristen should’ve been. She was really upset if she was missing class. She never cut. He itched to sneak out and search for her. Maybe she’d calmed down a little by now and she’d listen—

Are you with us today, Mr. Carlyle, or visiting another planet?

Devon looked up at Peabody, who stood rapping his knuckles on Devon’s desk.

Uh. Yes. I mean, no. Sorry.

Then how about handing in your test as I requested?

Oh, yeah. Devon scribbled his name on the paper and gave it to Peabody. He’d answered some of the questions. Enough to get another low C.

To get through the rest of the period, he doodled hearts. Broken. Dripping with tears. He wished his hand would stop throbbing. He wished he hadn’t hit that locker so hard. At the bell, he shuffled into the crowded hall. He searched over the heads of everybody but couldn’t spot Kristen. For a while, he stood outside the girls restroom, but she didn’t come out when the bell rang. Where was she?

He couldn’t sit through another class without talking to her. Instead of heading to science, he shoved open the main entrance door and jogged around the student parking. She might be in her car.

No sign of it or her.

Maybe she’d driven to school with Briana. They carpooled a lot. He’d go to her house in case she’d ditched the rest of the day.

Before getting into his Mustang, he tapped out a quick text and waited. No answer. Come on, Kristen. He didn’t want to lose her. He couldn’t.

He was out of student parking and onto the road in minutes. After two, it would be jammed with traffic, but right now, his was the only car. He floored it and sped down the street. He’d no sooner skidded around the corner of the cross street than red lights flashed behind him.

Perfect. Just perfect. Pulling to the side, he rolled down the window.

A tan-suited deputy’s unsmiling face peered in at him. License and registration?

Devon handed him his driver’s license then dug in the glove compartment.

Emergency?

Yes. Well, kind of. Devon passed the papers through the window then waited while the cop returned to his car, lights still whirling. This would be his second ticket since he’d passed his driver’s test last year, and this one was going to cost a lot more than the one for an expired meter.

The officer returned. What’s your ‘kind of’ emergency?

I forgot my science homework that’s due next period. That was almost true, but he’d already decided to take the lower grade and turn it in tomorrow.

The officer chuckled. Yep. That’s kind of important, but so’s your safety and that of the people in this town. He keyed in information on his hand-held device while talking then printed out the ticket. Forty-five in a twenty-five is about $175. I’m writing you up at forty, so you’ve got to come up with $99. Slow down from now on, and don’t forget that homework next time.

Devon drove the speed limit the rest of the way to Kristen’s. He had $99, but he sure hadn’t planned on paying a speeding ticket with it. Dad would be grumpy for a while. Mom would figure out a way to make him remember this ticket for a long time.

He turned down Wave Street and stopped at Kristen’s house. She always parked in the driveway, but her car wasn’t there now. Damn it. Where are you? Where would you go if you were upse…

He had the answer and made a U-turn toward Sugar Cove. Since they’d been together, they’d gone to that beach a lot. It might be exactly where she’d go to vent. A tiny glint of hope flickered inside him. It might be exactly where she’d go so he could find her.

In only fifteen minutes, he parked his Mustang in the almost empty beach lot. Her car wasn’t here. He’d been so sure, and he’d been all wrong. Bummed, he leaned back in his seat, thinking about Kristen and how great they’d been together. The feel of her next to him. Sometimes she’d send him supportive messages with the smallest smile or a squeeze of his hand, enough to get him through a game when he wasn’t playing in top form. He’d like to throw Susan under a bus. He pounded his hand on the steering wheel then shoved the driver’s door open.

Although it was a gray March day, he took off his shoes and tossed them in the backseat. He thought through problems better walking barefoot on the beach.

After taking the stone steps down, he plunged his feet into the damp sand then skirted the water and made his way along the shore. Winds gusted and ruffled his short dark hair. Nobody would be out today. Not even the most gung-ho California surf bum liked waves breaking that close out.

For a long while, he stared at the rough white caps crashing and then sucking back into themselves. Inside, he felt the same wild, thrashing motion. First, Susan had betrayed him, and now Kristen had turned her back on him. At the moment, the only thing he had going for him in his junior year was basketball.

He kicked at the sand and sent damp clumps into the air. Pulling out the locket, he held it in his hand, remembering the night he’d given it to Kristen. How he’d helped her fasten it at the back of her neck. Their kiss.

He was about to set his foot down when he spotted what looked like a piece of metal. Before he came down on it, he jumped to the side then bent and scooped a knife out of the sand. It had already caught someone else’s foot because it was smeared with blood.

He shuddered, thinking how that serrated edge would feel slicing into his flesh. Could his day turn uglier?

No garbage cans were nearby, so Devon dug a hole under a boulder and buried the long, thin blade, making sure it was deep enough to stay. It was only an ordinary steak knife someone must’ve dropped after a picnic, but it damn well shouldn’t be lurking in the sand where people walked.

He moved farther down the deserted beach, but now he watched where he stepped. This early in March, the sun dipped low and shadows rippled along the sand. They hid pointy driftwood and sharp shell hazards. When he reached the jetty, he turned around and retraced his steps. It was colder, so he pulled his sweatshirt closed at the neck.

Where was Kristen right now? Was she okay? Maybe she’d thought about what happened, decided she’d read the situation all wrong. Maybe she’d texted him. He pulled out his phone and checked in case he hadn’t heard the alert. Nothing.

With the sun slipping toward the horizon, he turned away from the water and climbed the rocky path to his car. A small dark object off to the side caught his eye. A shoe. Someone must’ve dropped it. He started past, but the famous logo, a silhouette of Michael Jordan, stopped him. Someone was going to hate losing an Air Jordan. A quick search of the area didn’t turn up a mate, so he picked up the lone shoe and crossed the paved lot to the barbecue area. He set it on the nearest table. Someone might find it easier if it was in plain sight.

A couple huddled at one of the picnic benches and glanced up briefly before nuzzling into each other again. With the picture in his mind of the two lovers, he hurried to his car. He’d call Kristen again. Right now.

She picked up on the third ring. I’m only answering this to tell you that I’m done. I really am. So don’t call me again.

He pictured her sitting on the edge of her bed, gripping her phone.

I won’t let you be done. You can’t––

It’s not just what happened today.

Then why? You tell me because I don’t understand.

I think you do. This isn’t a big city, you know. People see and hear what’s going on, and they don’t keep it to themselves.

He could tell she was holding back tears. So there’s some gossip I don’t know about. If you’d tell me, then I can explain.

She was silent, except for the soft sound of her breath.

Come on, Kristen. Give me a chance.

Your car. It was parked at Susan’s. Briana saw it last week, but she only told me about it today. You know, when she found me blubbering like an idiot in the hall.

I wasn’t—

Briana lives right down the street from your girlfriend, so that was pretty stupid, Devon. Or did you want to hurt me?

But that’s not—

So my best friend lied? Is that what you’re saying?

No!

The phone went dead. He redialed, but the screen went to black. Damn. He’d forgotten to plug it in it that morning, and he didn’t have the car charger.

He’d call Kristen again after he got home. His car hadn’t been anywhere near Susan’s last week.

After shoving the locket into the glove compartment, he slammed the door. He drove into the funky beach town he’d known his whole life, and on his way past the Oceanside Sweet Shop, he was surprised to see a cluster of people on the sidewalk. Usually, it was pretty quiet this time of year mid-week.

At the end of town, he was about to turn onto the main street when flashing lights and the high-pitched shriek of an ambulance came at him from the opposite direction. He veered to the side, almost sideswiping a parked car.

Crap! First Kristen, then a ticket. Now I almost nick a car? All in one day? What next? I get arrested?

Chapter Two

That next morning, the radio alarm woke Devon, blasting news about an assault on Sugar Cove Beach yesterday afternoon. Without opening his eyes, he fumbled for the sleep button. He didn’t want to think about yesterday afternoon. He didn’t want to think about Sugar Cove. He didn’t want to think about anything. He pulled the covers over his head and fell back to sleep.

When he finally got out of bed, it was too late to shower or eat breakfast. He barely made it to class in time for first bell.

The rest of that day came special delivery from hell. Kristen still wouldn’t believe him. She’d double-checked with Briana about his car and Briana was positive. He lost his temper, said something about Briana that he shouldn’t have, and Kristen stomped away. Every time he tried to corner her at school, she dodged him. He texted her. She didn’t text back. He called her. She hung up twice, and then she stopped answering.

At dinner that night, his parents were super-pissed about the ticket and tossed around the idea of mothballing his car, his dad’s Navy vocabulary, until the end of the term. His sister saved his bacon when she started in on the assault at Sugar Cove. He tuned it out, glad that his ticket wasn’t the big news anymore. He owed Mia, but he’d never cop to that.

The Tsunamis played okay the rest of the week, but without his head in the game, they weren’t the stars they’d been last Saturday. When Coach put Simon in, Devon hated to admit it, but Simon The Scowl played a better game than he did.

By Sunday afternoon, he was looking for a long vegging-out day with popcorn and a marathon of TV basketball.

His parents were at a movie and Mia was at a friend’s house. Finally, he had the TV room to himself. Except for Buddy, but all his dog needed was his spot on the couch and a rawhide bone. He never hogged the remote.

He’d poured extra butter over the steamy bowl of fluffy white corn and had a handful of napkins to sop up the grease when the doorbell rang.

Buddy pranced ahead of Devon on his way down the hall. Cramming some popcorn into his mouth, Devon opened the door. Two men stood outside.

Devon Carlyle? The man on the porch wore a tan shirt and pants with a sheriff’s badge pinned on his jacket.

Because his mouth was still full, Devon nodded.

He recognized the man behind the sheriff as the one who’d given him the speeding ticket.

We have a search warrant. The sheriff held out an official-looking paper. Are your folks home?

He swallowed. Uh. No.

Then show us your room, please. The sheriff stepped forward.

What are––

Your room? Which one is it? the sheriff asked.

Buddy stayed close to his side, whining as Devon led them upstairs. He stood in the doorway, watching the two men open his desk drawers, shuffle through his closet, and search under his bed. Buddy paced, nudging Devon’s hand. He’d picked up on stress signals from his kid.

With each drawer they opened in his room, Devon flinched. He felt stripped, exposed. What are you after? Tell me!

The sheriff straightened from examining behind the dresser. Anything? he asked the deputy. The deputy shook his head.

We’re looking for a wallet.

Before he thought what that might mean, Devon pulled his out.

The sheriff glanced at it, shook his head. We’d like you to come to the sheriff’s office.

What’s––

Hold on. Before you say anything, you’re not a suspect.

Susp—

We’d just like to clear up a few things.

Devon listened, but his mind spun with questions, like how serious was a speeding ticket in Oceanside? Were they taking him in to pay a fine?

Are your parents due home soon? the sheriff asked.

Dazed, Devon murmured, Later, I guess. After the movie.

Do you have a contact number?

Yeah.

Give it to us. We’ll call them.

Devon gave them his dad’s cell. That would only postpone a Mom Meltdown, but his dad would soften the news. He was always the cool head, but he cut no slack when Devon screwed up, so Devon was already getting ready for the squall about to hit him.

While the deputy put in the call, the sheriff stayed next to Devon. Right now, there are some questions about last Wednesday.

What kind of questions? Devon quickly ran through the day. He hadn’t gone over the speed limit after the ticket. He’d come straight home from the beach. Was this about cutting school? Are you arresting me? I only missed a couple of––

No. You aren’t under arrest. We only want to talk to you.

They returned downstairs, where Devon set the uneaten popcorn on the entry table and took his sweatshirt off the chair. After putting Buddy in the garage, he locked the front door then walked between the sheriff and his deputy to the car. He was almost in the back seat when Mrs. Shipley peered out her window from across the street.

Wonderful. The Oceanside Weekly can’t beat Mrs. Shipley with breaking news.

Devon sat behind a wire screen, seeing his town from a very different perspective. This can’t be about cutting class. So what’s it about, then? Did I nick that car when I swerved out of ambulance’s way? I didn’t feel so much as a tap. I should check my front bumper. He swiped his forehead and his breath caught in his throat. Hit and run?

When he stepped out of the sheriff’s car, he was in the Civic Center, and the three of them walked up the steps into the Sheriff’s Department.

This way. The sheriff held an office door open.

For a moment, Devon imagined Coach, his arms crossed, chewing on the inside of his mouth while his star forward explained his trip to the sheriff’s office. Then he heard his mom. His mouth went dry, and he tried to swallow, but he couldn’t. Before he sat, he tried again to understand what was going on. Look, I cut class. I admit that, but––

Take a seat and we’ll talk. The sheriff gestured to the chair in front of the desk and waited until Devon sat down. Let me make it clear that you’re not under arrest. We’re only interested in asking you some questions.

Okay.

With his hands folded on top of his desk, the sheriff asked, Where were you about four o’clock Wednesday, March first? When Devon didn’t answer immediately, the sheriff said, You do understand that you do not have to answer any questions unless you want to?

His dad had always told him the truth would never hurt him. No. I can answer that. I went to Sugar Cove.

The sheriff glanced at the paperwork. You were issued a speeding ticket at 1:49 PM that afternoon. At that time, you told the officer you were on your way home to collect homework you’d forgotten. Did you change your mind?

Yes. Well, no. I wasn’t after my homework.

Why were you out of school at that time then?

"I had a fight