“You heard that?” Tim asks. Kayla is clinging to his arm.
Shane nods solemnly. We all look downstairs, and even from the second floor, we can see that the front door is wide open. Droplets of rain are dampening the carpet right inside the door.
“Chelsea,” I murmur.
It had to have been Chelsea who screamed. Because it wasn’t Kayla and it wasn’t me, so Chelsea is the only one left. But why would she call my name? Why wouldn’t she call for Brandon if something was wrong? Unless…
If Brandon did anything to hurt her, I’m going to kill him.
Shane starts down the stairs first, taking them two at a time. Tim goes next, and I’m third. Kayla hangs behind, a distant fourth. I don’t blame her. She’s not great friends with any of us, and if there’s trouble, she probably doesn’t want to get involved.
Shane reaches the front door first. He hangs onto the door frame, leaning out onto the small porch. Then he sees something that makes his eyes go wide, and he takes a step back.
And then I hear sobbing.
Tim gets out onto the porch second. He reacts much the same way Shane did. By this point, I am frantic to find out what’s going on. I nearly trip over my feet getting to the front door. And then when I get outside…
Oh. Oh God…
Chelsea is on her knees next to Brandon, who is lying on the damp porch on his back, his chest a mess of dark red blood. The same dark red material is dripping out of his mouth, and his eyes are cracked open, staring at nothing. Chelsea is holding his hand, sobbing uncontrollably as the rain pours down on them.
“What happened?” I manage.
“Oh, Brooke!” Chelsea scrambles to her feet and throws her arms around me. She clings to me, even though she’s getting blood and water all over my clothes. “I came downstairs because Brandon wasn’t in bed. I saw the door was open so I looked outside and…”
“Is he dead?” Kayla squeaks. She looks like she’s about to throw up.
Tim kneels beside the body. He places his fingers against Brandon’s neck, searching for a pulse. He shakes his head. “He’s gone.”
Chelsea dissolves into louder sobs. She’s still holding on to me, and I feel like I’m mostly keeping her upright. In another few seconds, the both of us are going to be on the floor.
“Get her into the house,” Shane tells me. “We’ll deal with what’s out here.”
Kayla and I help Chelsea back into the house and get her onto the sofa. She buries her face in her hands, unable to stop crying. I rub her back while Kayla reaches for her phone that she had abandoned on a coffee table when she found out there was no service. She looks down at the screen.
“Still no service,” she grunts. She looks up at the door and calls out, “Shane, you said there’s a landline, right? Where is it? We have to call the police.”
“It’s next to the bookcase!” he calls back.
Quick as a flash, Kayla goes over to the bookcase. She picks up a cordless phone. She pushes a button on the phone and presses it against her ear. She frowns, pulls the phone away from her ear, and presses another button.
“Shane!” Her voice has taken on a hysterical edge. “The phone isn’t working!”
A crack of thunder shakes the house, although it is softer than earlier in the evening.
“Shane!” Kayla screams.
After a few seconds, Shane comes into the house, slamming the screen door behind him. His face is slightly pink and his hair and shirt are damp. He strides over to where Kayla is standing with the cordless phone and grabs it out of her hand. Kayla watches him, wringing her hands together.