What Rose Above

Five

My bike came to a screeching halt on the front lawn as I parked it in front of my house. I threw myself off, my feet nearly toppling over the other to the point I thought I'd collapse on the front lawn face first. Thankfully, our mailbox saved me from embarrassing myself. Not that anyone was watching from the windows. Or at least, that's what I liked to tell myself.

"Shit," I swore, attempting to detangle my legs. It failed, of course.

A brief roar in the distance—similar to that of a truck—caused my head to whip around. My breath hitched in my throat, then quickly relaxed into a sigh at the large vehicle driving alongside the curb. A large blue post office logo designed for everyone to see was plastered across the side of it. From the opposing door, stepped a man I recognized all too well in mailman uniform. His heavy figure and laid back attitude couldn't go unnoticed.

"Hey there, Tyler," he said, a small smile easing onto his face.

I returned his smile and nodded in greeting. "You're pretty early today, Byron."

"Just a little bit"—he chuckled and shuffled through his bag—"well, here you go, since you're here already." When he pulled his hand out, there were a few white envelopes in the clutch of his palm. No creases, no rips, and no wrinkles. Just how my mother liked her mail. It was one of the many reasons she adored Byron since he'd started working this route two months ago.

"Thank you," I said, grabbing them.

"No problem. Give your mom my hellos, will you?" he said. I nodded and backed away while he climbed back into the driver's side of his truck. Then, he was off to the next house.

The envelopes in my hands felt as light as a feather. They were all for my mother as expected. I should have known. The only piece of mail that ever had Junior and I's name on it was a letter from the hospital or our school's. Anything else was a rare occasion.

I stuffed them into the back pocket of my khaki shorts and continued to the front door. A frown wormed its way onto my lips when my phone beeped in my pocket. What was this, the third time in an hour? Too bad it wasn't anything or anyone I'd been looking forward to. Rather, it was just a notification from a stupid game I hadn't even remember downloading.

"Christian, where are you?" I groaned under my breath. Having not heard from him all day, I'd admit, I was starting to get a little nervous. There was nothing worse than a racing heart, moist palms, and anxiety catching in my lungs that made it hard to breathe. Not to mention, the fear chasing after my nerves since I'd left the library.

My head had been swelling with possibilities since Patty and I's conversation. I had promised her I wouldn't think too much about the shadow in my picture. But that promise was already broken. I'd rushed to the police station the minute I scrammed. Christian, however, wasn't even there. Apparently, he and Logan left for the morgue just an hour before I got there. Just my luck.

I knew the protocol and such. Any information from the morgue wouldn't be released to the public until investigators were ready to release updates. That was only if news reporters could get something out of the police too. And from what I'd seen so far, they hadn't been able to get anything yet. There was no word on who either of the three victims were, where they'd come from, and so on. Whatever results Tanya gave Christian and Logan were my only hope.

"Hey, I was wondering when you'd get back! Do you plan on standing out here for the rest of the day or are you going to open the door? You know, I've been looking out the window all this time," a small droning voice said just before I had the chance to grab the knob to the house.

There was a slight squeak in the culprit's voice that could only entail one person approaching me with such confidence. I quickly turned on my heel, narrowing my eyes at Junior as he strolled out of the neighboring house. Mrs. Green, one half of the friendly old couple who lived next door to us, held his hand as she guided him down the strip to her house.