Slain by Livia Harper

Pastor Kent has always been very pro-spanking. Paige doesn’t talk about it a lot, but I’m pretty sure she still gets the belt. Mike has a look on his face like that’s exactly what he’d like to do to me right now. I try not to remember how big he is, how quickly he could snap me in two with those fingers if he wanted to.
    “You need me, Emma,” he says.
    “Really?” I say.
    “You think I don’t know what’s been going on with you? That the police are looking at you for June? Terry Graham tells my father everything.”  
    So much for attorney-client privilege.
    “So what? You suddenly have some sway over the police? You’re just gonna barge in there and tell them to back off and everything’s gonna get better?”
    “I might not be able to make things better, but I could make them much worse. I wonder what the police would say if they knew Jackson was there that night.”
    Did he just say what I think he did?
    Jackson.
    I heard it come out of his mouth, clear as ice.
    How does he know Jackson’s name?

    “Number seventy-seven? Jackson Thomas? From what I hear he’s quite the bad boy. Did you think I wouldn’t look into him after that stunt he pulled giving you his number?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I asked around. Apparently, he has quite a reputation. I hear he’s even done some time, which I’m sure the police would find very interesting.”
    “He was with me the whole time that night,” I say. Well, almost. He did go to the restroom once, but Mike doesn’t need to know that.
    “And I bet you’re just dying to tell everyone all about how he was with you.”
    “You can’t say anything, Mike, you just can’t. That stuff is all behind him now.”
    “You make me sick, you know that?” he says. “You should be begging me for my forgiveness, begging God for His forgiveness, but instead you’re wasting your breath defending someone who took advantage of you.”
    “You think he took advantage of me? Because he didn’t. I wanted him, Mike. I still want him.”
    “Fine. I’ll just call the police right now then.”  
    He pulls the phone out of his pocket.
    “No! Stop!”
    He puts the phone down.
    “Are you ready to stop talking and listen for a minute? Your dad was right, you know. You really need to work on putting your pride aside.”
    His words snarl my anger, but I can’t lose control again. I have to protect Jackson. “Fine, okay. Let’s talk. What do you want?”
    “First, you completely break off contact with him. If I hear of you seeing him, or anyone else for that matter, even by accident, even from a distance, even at a baseball game or something, I go straight to the police.”
    Life without Jackson? Not possible.
    “Second, you have to make an effort to make things work between us. We go out on Friday nights. We sit together at church. You go to prom with me.” The problem to Mike isn’t whether I love him or not. It’s whether other people think I love him.
    “For how long?” Am I considering this? Am I actually considering this?
    “For until I say how long. You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate here.” He stands up straighter, crosses his hands over his crotch like he’s in the military. “So that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
    “I can’t,” I say. Can I?
    He looks at me, shocked. “Think before you talk for once, Emma. Think very hard.”
    “I didn’t do anything wrong.” It sounds whiny, like something a child would say. I know the minute I say it that it doesn’t matter. Right now the truth doesn’t matter at all.
    “Tell that to the police,” he says.
    “Just let me think about it, okay?”
    He steps back, considers.
    “You have until tomorrow morning, or I call the police.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

    I DECIDE TO WALK home instead of going with Mike to meet the other kids. It will take me an hour, but it’s better than sticking around. I need time to think. I make my way across the parking lot and toward the streaks of cars on