Cipher

By Emma Shade

My father's new job forced my family to move to a small town, and trust me… I don't fit in here.

I don't belong with the perfect elite of Crawstone High School. Then I met Grayson Sterling. But he's one of them—one of the flawless of this town.

However, I'm discovering Crawstone isn't as perfect as it seems. Something evil lurks beneath the surface of its polished exterior. If that wasn't enough to drive a girl crazy, the ghost of a murdered girl is haunting me. I don't know who was involved, or if they are closer than I think, but something tells me if I don't find this girl's killer soon, I may be next.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Shade
• Release date: Feb 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781519926241

Emma Shade

About the Author Emma lives in Indiana with her husband and three crazy cats. When she’s not busy writing her next novel, she enjoys spending time with family and friends, listening to music, taking naps, or curled up with a good book. Emma is a proud member of the Romance Writers of America. Would you like to learn more about upcoming books? You can find me online: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoremmashade Website:  www.emmashadeauthor.com Twitter:  https://twitter.com/ShadeEmma   Finding Clarity, The Secrets Series #2 is available now!  Finding Lily, The Secrets Series #3 is available now!  To Ashes, The Secrets Series #4 (Spinoff) is coming soon!   

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

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Nothing exciting ever happened. I craved excitement and adventure in my life, not dinner with the family.

Taking a deep breath, I placed the scratched plates on the kitchen table. The mismatched and hand-me-down silverware was next, followed by the paper napkins. No, it wasn’t like dining in a fancy establishment, but it was home. Our family struggled, as most do, but they kept food on the table and clothes on our backs. Still, it was nothing like what I’d dreamed about as a child.

My father worked at Sterling Bank and Trust. For such a medium-sized town, the bank boasted wealth and power. But that hadn’t stopped my dad from being a bank clerk for close to twenty years. He had enough experience to move to a different bank, or possibly be a financial adviser, but he loved his job. Plus, with our local economy, jobs were limited.

My mother didn’t work. She lost her employment a few years ago when the company she worked for decided to downsize. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to locate another job. Now she was a homemaker, taking care of my father and me. She hated every minute of it, and it seemed me, too.

Due to the budget cuts in my family, I took up odd jobs here and there to help pay for my clothes and fancy new shoes. In any case, wanting nice, new things and being tight on money wasn’t easy, but sometimes you had to swallow your pride and make do with what you had. At least I understood that logic. My mother didn’t.

The window air conditioning unit hummed as it tried to keep up with the Kentucky summer, and my mind wandered as the cold air hit me in the face. I had six months before I turned eighteen. Nine months until I graduated. I’ll be off to college next fall, and with any luck, I’d get a scholarship. I knew I’d have to settle for the classes at the community college in the next town over, surviving off student loans and grants. It would be worth it, though, because I didn’t want to live paycheck to paycheck like my parents. I wanted something better. I deserved to do something I loved for the rest of my life. If I could just figure out what I wanted to be, though.   

Sighing a little, I straightened a crooked fork beside the plate where I would sit. My mother ambled in and set a casserole in the middle of the table. Great, we’d be eating some sort of boxed casserole again.

Are you going to help me, Jazmin Daniella Evans, or are you just going to stand there hogging all the air? she asked.

I followed my mother back into the kitchen with an eye roll. We never sat as a family to eat anymore. We usually grabbed our food and went into our separate spaces. My favorite location being in living room in front of the TV with my laptop. Tonight was different, though, and I didn’t know why. Why was it so important that we had to sit at the table like a real family? We hadn’t been a real family for a long time. My mother’s motto was smile for the camera, act like a lady, but never let them see you falter. Things changed when mom lost her job and we had to start selling our nice belongings. However, you’d never know that from the well-manicured lawn outside. She had made sure of that.

Why are we eating in the dining room? I asked, grabbing a pan of rolls.

I thought it would be nice for change, Mom replied as she evaded eye contact.

I balanced the butter for the rolls in my other hand and carried them into the dining room. Mom walked in behind me and set the green beans on the table. I looked up at her, noticing the lack of emotion on her face. She was always like this now, and I had to remind myself she wasn’t the same mother I had known as a child. Her distance still hurt, though.

With a sigh, I muttered, I’d rather watch TV. What’s so important that we have to eat at the table like we’re a big, happy family?

She straightened the cheap paper napkins as if they were fancy cloth. "We are a happy family, Jaz."

As I opened my mouth for a sarcastic supply, a car pulled into the driveway and sputtered to a stop. Dad was home in the crappy car that had more dents and dings than a vehicle at a demolition derby. The garage door opened and his car pulled in, dying a moment later. Of course, we couldn’t have a dented, rundown car in front of our house. No, Mom wouldn’t allow it. What would the neighbors think?

My dad was the one bright side to my crappy life. He was the sunshine to my beach, the fries to my Happy Meal. When it was just the two of us, we had a great time. Unlike when I was alone with my mom, or how we were all with Mom. I know it wasn’t exactly her fault, as we both let her get away with it, but what were we to do? She was unhappy and misery loves company.

The door opened and Dad walked in with a grin. He looked cheerful, but he didn’t make eye contact with me either. He set his wallet and keys on the beat-up hutch, and then took a seat at the table, folding his hands neatly over his plate. My heart sunk when he didn’t greet me like usual, and especially when my mother sat beside him and seized his hand. I slowly placed my butt in a chair, and eyeing them both as I waited for the other shoe to drop.

Instead of starting the talk I knew was coming, they piled their plates with food. Mom made simple conversation about the weather and the local neighborhood gossip. I sat motionless, my plate empty. She chatted on about the yard and the new flowers she wanted to plant, even though we couldn’t afford them. Never once did she talk about my plans or the good grades I had gotten on my last report card. She didn’t include me in much of anything, really.

Dad waved his fork in circles at me. Aren’t you going to eat, Jaz?

I nodded slowly and began to put small portions of food on my plate, even though I wasn’t hungry. My stomach churned from nerves. I forced a bite of food into my mouth, forcefully chewing as I listened to them continue their small talk.

My leg started shaking involuntarily beneath the table. I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to know what was going on, and why neither of them were talking to me directly. They were avoiding something. Being a decent human being, I knew it was rude to interrupt a conversation, and so I sat patiently while shoving food around my plate.

My father finished his meal, but he didn’t get up from the table. There was an uncomfortable silence as my parents observed me. I hadn’t felt this much tension since my mother lost her job and began her downward spiral into depression.

Dad cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Are you done eating?

I nodded, shoving my half-eaten plate away. If Dad had lost his job, we’d lose everything. It would break the last thread that held us together as a family, or whatever kind of family ties we had left. If that happened, maybe my friend Shannon would let me move in with her. Her parents loved me, so I’m sure they wouldn’t protest. That way I would have some dignity in what would surely be a messy divorce. I took a deep breath as my mother patted her mouth with a napkin.

Mom looked at me, her eyes actually showing a bit of emotion for once. We have something to tell you, she said.

Go ahead, I muttered, my hackles already up.

There are going to be some big changes, Dad said, shifting in his chair again. I know you’re getting ready to start your senior year of high school, but we’re hoping we can get this done before the beginning of the school year.

I stiffened. What are you talking about?

Your father got a promotion at work, Mom replied, her face actually cracking a smile for once.

That’s great, Dad! I cried. I jumped out of my chair to give him a hug. He squeezed me back, and then pushed me away a little bit. I frowned.

You better sit down, he said, urging me back into my chair. "I did get a promotion, that’s true. The promotion offer wasn’t an easy choice. Your mother and I have thought about this long and hard before I accepted the position. I... we wanted to do what was best for you and to be able to send you to a nice college."

Okay...

Jaz, he began, clearing his throat uncomfortably, one stipulation to this promotion is taking on a bigger role at the company. Which means I’d be stationed at the company headquarters in Crawstone, Indiana. After a lot of consideration, I accepted the position. We’ll be moving in two weeks.

The world dropped out from under me. I gaped at my parents, unsure if I heard them right. Surely he hadn’t said move.

I shook my head, rubbing my ears with my fingers. What?

We’ll be moving to Indiana in two weeks, Mom replied. She attempted to reach over and give me a comforting pat on the shoulder.

I jerked out of her reach. Two weeks?! As in fourteen days?!

My mother shook her head, and I felt like she enjoyed the next part a little too much. Maybe it was just my imagination that she’d smiled. Actually, we move in ten days.

My hand slammed down on the table, rattling the plates and silverware in the process. "Are you kidding me? Ten days to say goodbye to everything I’ve ever known and move to some town in Indiana?"

I’m sorry, Jaz, but it’s for the best interest of this family, Dad said, chewing nervously on his thumbnail.

I choked back the tears threatening to fall. What about me, huh? Did you even think about how I’d feel, or even consider asking me about my opinion in the matter? What if I don’t want to move? I can’t move right before my senior year. I can’t start over in a new school with only one year to go! I can’t believe you didn’t ask me what I wanted! I slammed my hand on the table again.

This isn’t just about you, Jaz. It’s about our family as a unit, he stated, glancing at my mother.

This is total shit!

Jazmin Daniella Evans! I will not tolerate you using that language in this house, Mom scolded, glaring at me over her glass of water.

"Oh, now you decide to act like my mother? My mother’s eyes widened as tears pooled along her lashes, and I felt an ounce of guilt for saying what I had, but it was the truth. Whatever. I’m outta here." I shoved my seat back, knocking the chair over, and then stormed out of the room.

Where are you going? Come back here! she called after me, but I was already gone.

I didn’t care where I ended up. I just had to get out of the house and away from my parents for a little bit. I sprinted across the street and down a few blocks, reaching a park down the road. When I located a picnic table, I plopped down on the top with my feet on the bench seat. I reached into my pocket for my phone, but realized I had left it in my room. Placing my face in my hands, the tears began to fall. Letting the sobs free, I rocked back and forth, trying to calm myself.

When we had sat down for dinner, this wasn’t what I had expected. I could’ve taken my dad getting laid off or fired, or even promoted at the same building he was in. But moving? In ten days, I would be moving to some stupid town in Indiana. This was the worst possible timing. I’d be graduating in less than a year, but wouldn’t be sharing that special day with my friends. No, I’d have to start over, attempting to make new friends in a school full of strangers. Now I’d be the new kid.

When the tears finally stopped flowing, I raised my puffy eyes to look around. A few kids from my school were playing basketball in the court across from the park. I waved when they noticed me. Sadness blanketed me again because it could be the last time I’d see them.

Restoring my bruised pride, I removed myself from the picnic table, my feet landing in the soft Kentucky bluegrass. I sauntered slowly back to my house with my head hanging. The closed front door greeted me, and I knew as soon as I opened it that my parents would pounce, so I had to get to my bedroom as quickly as possible. Opening the door slowly, I stealthily made my way inside. Footsteps echoed from the hallway and I sprinted to my room, slamming the door behind me. I threw myself on the bed and shoved a pillow over my face. Seconds later, a soft knock interrupted the silence.

Go away, I said, muffled by my pillow.

The door opened a little, and my Dad asked, "Are you okay?

I lifted the pillow from my mouth a little. Go away.

Dad sighed. Okay. Let me know when you’re ready to talk. He softly closed the door behind him.

Rolling onto my back, I stared at the ceiling with its popcorn plaster and glow-in-the-dark stars I’d put there when I was fourteen. My walls were a pale purple, and posters of my favorite movie stars lined the back of my bedroom door. The wall behind my bed had pictures of friends and family scattered like a collage, but I didn’t dare look at them or tears might fall again. However, I did look over and stare at my laptop sitting on a small, rickety desk.

Removing myself from the bed to grab my laptop, I sat back down on the bed. I loaded up the computer and waited for the slow internet to connect. I drummed my fingers on the laptop as I waited for the thing to start. We couldn’t really afford internet, but my mother didn’t want me to go without either. Well, okay, my father didn’t want me to go without the means for schoolwork. I think my mother just wanted to keep up with her friends on Facebook. That’s all she seemed to do anymore.

When the internet loaded, I searched Crawstone, Indiana and waited on the website to load inch by painfully slow inch. When the small, rural town came into view, I cringed. Located in the southwestern part of the state, and likely hours away from any big city, the town was tiny. The aerial shot of the town didn’t look any better, either. Woods, corn, and maybe soybean fields surrounded it. The next picture showed a photograph of the high school, which was about the size of my elementary school here. Great. That means the people who went there already knew each other and had their friends, probably since elementary school.

I shut the computer off and stared at the blank screen and at my reflection in it. My stick-straight auburn hair spilled over my shoulders. My normally bright and cheerful green eyes remained puffy from my tears. The freckles that lined my pale nose and cheeks were barely visible from the redness of crying. As I stared at the image of myself, I realized this would be the last few days I’d spend with my friends. A tear spilled down my cheek and splattered on my jeans. With a sniff, I slammed the laptop shut so I wouldn’t have to look at my tears anymore.

My bedroom door creaked open and somebody walked in, taking a seat on my bed. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was my dad as the smell of his aftershave filled the air around me. I finally turned to look at him. With his hair wet and combed back from a recent shower, he folded his hands neatly on his lap.

He observed me before speaking. I know this must be hard for you.

You think? I snorted.

Jaz, you know we are doing this to give you a better life. Your mother and I want to be able to send you to a nice college. We want to provide for you in ways we can’t afford to now. When I rolled my eyes at him, he sighed. I know you don’t understand this now, but in a few years you might. We just want what’s best for you.

How do you know what’s best for me? I asked, crossing my arms in defiance. Ripping me away from friends my senior year doesn’t seem like the best decision.

He gave me a small smile. As your parents, we try to make the difficult decisions and move forward. We made this decision with your education and future in mind.

I scoffed. How can you ask me to do this? You toss this at me at the last minute, and you expect me to be okay with it?

Please don’t act this way, Dad begged. We’re trying to understand to how you feel, but you’re making this difficult.

Difficult? I narrowed my eyes. "I’m upset. You can’t possibly understand what I’m going through. Did you expect me to jump for joy at moving right before I’m supposed to graduate?

No, but I expected better out of you, and I’m disappointed by your attitude. This move is final. The packing boxes will arrive in the morning.

Tears started to spill over again, and I wiped them away angrily with the back of my hand. Fine.

He stood and kissed the top of my head before leaving the room. I ran my fingers through my hair and then flopped back on the bed with a grunt. This was going to be awful, and I knew I’d hate them both before this was over.

*****

The next ten days were spent with tears, goodbyes, and sleepovers. Moving day had arrived in a blur. I stayed distant from my parents, spending as much time with friends as I could. It may be the last time I’d see them, well, until I turned eighteen. When that day came, I’d be out of Indiana faster than you could blink.

Once the packing boxes were loaded into the moving trailer, I ambled outside to get away from the empty, depressing house. The furniture, pictures, and stained carpet reminded me of too many bittersweet memories. The realtor sign in the yard had a red sold sign swinging below it. The sold marker squealed in the breeze, as if it taunted me every time the wind blew. Then I noticed my father’s clunker had been towed away and replaced with a brand new blue Toyota Camry. Wonderful. There went my chances of the old beater car breaking down halfway there.

Dressed in white shorts, a green tank top, and my favorite sandals, I stood in the yard and battled tears. I resisted the urge to run. Instead, I stood as still as stone while the sticky air caused beads of sweat to pop up along my forehead. Was Indiana as hot as it was here? Would I hate the mosquitos and flies just as much? I wiped the perspiration off my brow and watched as my mother locked the door for the last time. She lightly patted it as if she was saying goodbye, but I didn’t buy it.

She didn’t care about the old house. She didn’t care about the fact that my life was forever changed. No, all she cared about was my father getting a new job and moving into a nicer house. Maybe after we moved she’d be in better spirits, but how could I forgive her for the cold shoulder she’d given me for so long? The mother who had read me bedtime stories and had sung me to sleep was long gone. In her place was a woman so concerned with appearance and money that she didn’t care about her family anymore.

Let’s hit the road, my father said, pulling my attention away from my mother.

With one last glance at the house I grew up in, I made my way to the blue Camry. I didn’t say a word as they packed up a few suitcases in the trunk. I didn’t speak or smile as my father beamed at me. Instead, I got into the back of the car and watched as the life as I knew it shrank into the distance.

CHAPTER TWO

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When we drove by the sign welcoming us to Crawstone, Indiana, I let out a sigh.

Instead of heading down the highway into town, though, we turned to the left down a pothole-filled country road. A few turns later, we drove up a winding, blacktop driveway. Tall oak trees lined the drive each side. Well-manicured hedges ran along the outer edge of the property. When a huge two-story brick home came into view, I perked up. The house was enormous. Resembling the huge plantation houses in the South, the large, white columns jutted from the concrete porch like a beacon. Massive windows lined the front two stories, each one with lace curtains.

My dad parked the Camry at the end of the circular drive and said, Why don’t you two get out and stretch your legs for a little bit while I get the keys to our new house?

I bent forward to look up at the house again. Who lives here?

He smiled. This is the Sterlings’ house.

Of course this ginormous house would belong to the owners of the bank my father worked for. I glanced over the yard and noticed the perfect flowers lined along the porch, fern plants hanging from hooks at the top, and rocking chairs strategically placed to get the best view of the perfect yard. I stepped out of the car, bending over to get some circulation back into my legs. My mother gaped at the house and over the lawns as if she was shocked somebody could own something like this. Or she was jealous they did and she didn’t.

I eyed the windows lined along the second floor, and something caught my