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Chris. The situation of you.”
    “I didn’t do anything.”
    “Why don’t we find Wade and ask him? I’m sure he’d say you did something.”
    “So you don’t believe me?”
    “Ross gave me a nice little write-up about you at your last school. I didn’t ask him to do that—he went snooping around on his own. But it seems to me that drama follows you around.”
    I say it again. “I’m not making this up.”
    The sheriff nods gently, then remains quiet until we pull up to the small house. It’s dark and untouched, with snow covering it like a concrete casing. No tracks can be seen anywhere on the driveway. No footprints in the snow, nothing.
    The sheriff keeps the car running as the headlights beam down on the door.
    “I’ve been by this house several times now since you came in to see me, since your little talk with Ross. Nobody’s been around. Jocelyn and her aunt disappeared. I’ve spoken with Helen twice. Once just today.”
    I feel like I’m back at Six Flags Great America on that falling chair ride. My stomach’s still hovering in the air as I’m dropping to the ground.
    “Where is she?”
    “Not she, Chris. They. They are in Florida.”
    “No.”
    “Now look here.” He turns to me, and I suddenly have the urge to open the door and run away. “I’m not from around here. Just like you, I moved when I was in high school. This was when I lived in Kentucky years ago. So I get it. I get it. These people—they just don’t like outsiders. Many Southerners don’t. They act charming with their ‘aw shucks’ attitude, but they can be cold and mean. But the days of the Klan are gone, Chris. They’re not around here.”
    “I saw them. I’m not—why would I make up something like that?”
    “Because teen love can cause you to do a lot of things. Some pretty stupid.”
    He thinks this is because of … teen love?
    Seriously?
    Boy, you picked this wrong.
    I wonder if Jared is watching me. Or if he knows.
    I’m sure he’s probably wondering what in the world I did.
    The sheriff doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know.
    Unless he’s the best actor in the world.
    “That place you’re referring to—it exists. It’s called The Grounds, and it’s got a bit of a legend around it. With the stones and all that. Kids like to go there. And something tells me Jocelyn took you there. Maybe for something more than just ghost hunting, right?”
    I feel my bottom lip grow heavy. I really want to tell this guy what I’m thinking. But I don’t.
    I keep quiet.
    This is my fault.
    “Now listen to me, Chris. Okay? If there is any more trouble coming from your direction—whatever it might be—I’m going to become the not-so-patient guy. People rarely see that, but they don’t like it when they do. Do you understand?”
    Someone else said those very same words to me.
    “Yes,” I say.
    But I don’t understand, and I’ve never understood.
    That’s part of being a teen. Not understanding, trying to figure it out.
    “I mean it, Chris,” he says. “I really mean it. You go about your business, and you leave your stories and your troubles to your imagination. I’m not saying that it’s easy being a newcomer, but you gotta go with the flow.”
    “Okay.”
    Yeah, I get it.
    Stay quiet and stay put.
    Walk around like everything’s okay.
    Wipe the blood off my hands and mind my own business.
    The sheriff pulls the car back out of the driveway and heads toward my cabin.

12. Options
     
    The reminders only bring me down.
    The leather wristband that I’m wearing.
    The photo printout of the two of us on Christmas Day.
    The last letter she wrote to me. Maybe the last letter she ever wrote.
    I want a new story, a different installment, a new character, a change of scenery and score. How about a new producer and director as well?
    That night after Sheriff Wells takes me home with a good-ole-boy threat, I try to figure out my options.
    I torched option A, which was remaining quiet.
    I burnt option B, which was