by her mother, Araceli Sanchez, after returning home from work. Sanchez could not be reached for comment.
“It’s horrible,” said Claire Rallstrom, 16. “She was, like, really amazing.”
This is the first case of gang violence in Lake Ridge since another teenager, Manuel Romero, 17, was murdered last summer, the victim of an alleged gang retaliation.
“At this point the two crimes do not appear to be related,” Cross said.
After the initial investigation, according to the statement released Tuesday by the sheriff’s department, the case will be turned over to the Spokane Violent Crime Gang Enforcement Team.
I reread the story, choking on the irony of what Claire said, since she and Rachel have hated each other forever. The words blur together: “gang violence,” “gang retaliation,” and the phrase “the two crimes do not appear to be related.” But I know they are.
My phone vibrates, making me jump. I pick it up, a little afraid of what I might find. The message comes through slowly. It’s a video file, a forwarded message from a number I don’t recognize. I scroll back to see who sent it originally.
It’s from Rachel.
Chapter 7
I stare at it in disbelief. What if they’re all lying? What if Rachel isn’t really dead? What if she needs my help? What if it’s not too late? My heart aches to believe that’s true. But I saw her lying in a coffin.
The image is small and grainy, but it’s Rachel, sitting in her bedroom, alive. I stare at it a minute before I hit okay. As she starts to talk, pinpricks of pain find something solid in the hole in my chest.
All hope that Rachel is still alive drains with her first words.
“Jaycee, if you’re watching this, it either means this whole thing ended as badly as I think it will, or this is our twenty-year class reunion and we’re drinking champagne, eating expensive chocolate, and toasting the fact that we survived all of this and high school too.
“If the second part is true, and I really hope it is, I’m going to bet that by now Claire Rallstrom has six kids, three ex-husbands, and weighs at least two hundred pounds. TaylorBrice married the richest guy she could find, divorced him, and now she has so much plastic surgery that her face will crack if she smiles.” She laughs at her own joke, but her voice sounds sad.
“But if the first part is true, and I’m gone, I need you to know how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have taken you to the house that night. His secret was mine to keep because I loved him, not yours. I should have never let you get close enough to be involved. I was stupid, and now it’s too late for either of us to go back.”
She pauses a second, swallows, and I hear fear in her voice when it starts up again. “I guess I should have told you everything from the beginning, but I thought it was more important for you to be safe than it was for us to be friends. I’m sorry for that. I probably would do the same thing again, but I’ve missed you so much.” Her voice cracks.
My throat closes over with pain.
“I’m sorry to ask you to do this, but if I’m gone, you’re the only one who can find out the truth.” She waits, like she wants to give me time to take that in.
“I’ve learned a lot in the last ten months. Like who I can trust, and it boils down to two people, you and Eduardo. You, because you always do the right thing, and Eduardo, because he has as much to lose in this as I do. You can trust him, Jaycee: him and no one else. Not the police. Let me repeat that. Do. Not. Go. To. The. Police.”
She looks behind her like she’s worried someone is listening. “Eduardo has a huge attitude problem. He hates this townand gringos and probably even fuzzy yellow kittens. He’s a hothead. If I left this up to him, someone else would probably end up dead.” She laughs, but I’m not sure she’s joking. “But he has a good heart. Trust him. You’ll need each other.
“I’m sorry to dump this on you, especially now, when
“It’s horrible,” said Claire Rallstrom, 16. “She was, like, really amazing.”
This is the first case of gang violence in Lake Ridge since another teenager, Manuel Romero, 17, was murdered last summer, the victim of an alleged gang retaliation.
“At this point the two crimes do not appear to be related,” Cross said.
After the initial investigation, according to the statement released Tuesday by the sheriff’s department, the case will be turned over to the Spokane Violent Crime Gang Enforcement Team.
I reread the story, choking on the irony of what Claire said, since she and Rachel have hated each other forever. The words blur together: “gang violence,” “gang retaliation,” and the phrase “the two crimes do not appear to be related.” But I know they are.
My phone vibrates, making me jump. I pick it up, a little afraid of what I might find. The message comes through slowly. It’s a video file, a forwarded message from a number I don’t recognize. I scroll back to see who sent it originally.
It’s from Rachel.
Chapter 7
I stare at it in disbelief. What if they’re all lying? What if Rachel isn’t really dead? What if she needs my help? What if it’s not too late? My heart aches to believe that’s true. But I saw her lying in a coffin.
The image is small and grainy, but it’s Rachel, sitting in her bedroom, alive. I stare at it a minute before I hit okay. As she starts to talk, pinpricks of pain find something solid in the hole in my chest.
All hope that Rachel is still alive drains with her first words.
“Jaycee, if you’re watching this, it either means this whole thing ended as badly as I think it will, or this is our twenty-year class reunion and we’re drinking champagne, eating expensive chocolate, and toasting the fact that we survived all of this and high school too.
“If the second part is true, and I really hope it is, I’m going to bet that by now Claire Rallstrom has six kids, three ex-husbands, and weighs at least two hundred pounds. TaylorBrice married the richest guy she could find, divorced him, and now she has so much plastic surgery that her face will crack if she smiles.” She laughs at her own joke, but her voice sounds sad.
“But if the first part is true, and I’m gone, I need you to know how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have taken you to the house that night. His secret was mine to keep because I loved him, not yours. I should have never let you get close enough to be involved. I was stupid, and now it’s too late for either of us to go back.”
She pauses a second, swallows, and I hear fear in her voice when it starts up again. “I guess I should have told you everything from the beginning, but I thought it was more important for you to be safe than it was for us to be friends. I’m sorry for that. I probably would do the same thing again, but I’ve missed you so much.” Her voice cracks.
My throat closes over with pain.
“I’m sorry to ask you to do this, but if I’m gone, you’re the only one who can find out the truth.” She waits, like she wants to give me time to take that in.
“I’ve learned a lot in the last ten months. Like who I can trust, and it boils down to two people, you and Eduardo. You, because you always do the right thing, and Eduardo, because he has as much to lose in this as I do. You can trust him, Jaycee: him and no one else. Not the police. Let me repeat that. Do. Not. Go. To. The. Police.”
She looks behind her like she’s worried someone is listening. “Eduardo has a huge attitude problem. He hates this townand gringos and probably even fuzzy yellow kittens. He’s a hothead. If I left this up to him, someone else would probably end up dead.” She laughs, but I’m not sure she’s joking. “But he has a good heart. Trust him. You’ll need each other.
“I’m sorry to dump this on you, especially now, when
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