Forty-two Minutes Read online

  Forty-two Minutes

  The Indigo Lewis Series

  Copyright © 2021 by Janay Harden

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-7365412-2-7 (eBook)

  ISBN: 978-1-7365412-3-4 (print)

  This work of fiction contains some adult content, strong language, violence, murder, pregnancy, abortion, and mental health issues.

  Reader discretion is advised.

  Thank you for choosing to read “Forty-two Minutes.”

  Please join my email list by scanning the QR code or going to

  www.naywrites.com for notifications of new releases.

  To 2020:

  Thank you for showing me parts of myself that I had forgotten.

  To 2021 — thank you for receiving the baton.

  Contents

  Prologue

  PART 1: Puzzles

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  PART 2: Mind-ful

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  PART 3: Descent

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  Though the incinerator still hummed, his cries died down long ago. My breath was ragged and my heart beat in my ears. “Think, Indigo, think,” I whispered to myself. The incinerator was still running; its loud hum reminded me of easier times, like just a few hours ago. Could that be considered easier times? I don’t know. Today, it became my savior. My only choice. In a sea full of different outcomes and scenarios replaying in my mind, this had been my choice.

  My reading glasses lay off to the side on the floor, and I’m not entirely sure how they got there. From what I could see from here, they were a shattered mess. Do you know how expensive eyeglasses are? Damn. I just bought them too; I saved my money from working here at Dennis and Sons Funeral Home. Mr. Dennis, the Funeral director and my boss, would know something had happened. He noticed everything and being that this was a funeral home, he could smell death a mile away. He said it lived in his blood, in his soul. How could someone smell death? He said his job was to “see for the dead.” I wondered what he would see when he came in tomorrow morning. We would have to test his theory.

  It took one to three hours for a body to cremate at 1500 degrees Fahrenheit, but I didn’t have one to three hours. My mind replayed the sounds of Jaxon screaming as I turned the dial higher and higher until it reached 1800 degrees Fahrenheit. My hands were shaking as I switched the large knob to the off-setting while the incinerator croaked to an end. Like Jaxon, I lamented. I typically did my homework while I waited for the machine to do its thing, but this day was much different. Mr. Dennis was considering upgrading the machinery, but he never got around to it. His son Tyson also didn’t keep the cleanest funeral home as I glanced around. The old security system was so outdated and not working. This might help me…

  My phone lit up somewhere in the room. It was slightly dark, and it shone brightly in the crevice, even though there was no one to call right now. I mean, what would I say? Hi there, I just killed Jaxon Green. The whitest white boy—and me—the blackest Black girl. Yep, that would go over great. I knelt down and searched around the corners until I found it lit up in the room’s corner. My hands were shaking as I unlocked it.

  Forty-two Minutes.

  That’s about how long it took to annihilate Jaxon’s body when I turned up the fire even hotter. And because Mr. Dennis’ place was so dirty, Jaxon’s body would hopefully be more debris added to the pile. A text message popped up from Malachi, my ex-boyfriend.

  Malachi: Still comin’ thru?

  I paused and stared at the wall. I planned to meet up with Malachi and our friends, Will and Mila. The four of us have been friends since birth. Will and Mila lived a few blocks from my house, and Malachi lived in West Tunica, on the outskirts of the city. Officials section the city off by zones and technically the four of us should have never gone to the same school, but just our luck they modge podged us together. You’d think we’d tire of each other, being attached at the hip since kindergarten and all, but it just made us closer. Today we were supposed to celebrate graduating from high school the day before. Today was supposed to be about making the most of our last summer before some of us went away to college. Today was not supposed to begin with a murder.

  A deep sigh escaped me, and I placed my phone back into my pocket, not responding to Malachi. Time was ticking, and now people were looking for me. Decisions needed to be made. I gazed around the room and saw nothing that would show Jaxon had been here. There wasn’t much to clean up around the room; there wasn’t much to do once a body burned, but I peered around anyway. I assessed the scene of the crime—my crime. Pulling the heavy door to the studio closed behind me, I turned out the lights and walked upstairs.

  Jaxon’s bag sat on the visitor’s bench, which was ironic as he was anything but. Should I burn that too? Maybe. I didn’t want to go back down there right now; we needed some space from each other. I searched through his bag and I didn’t find a cell phone. He had it in his hand when… when… that meant it burned up too… good, one less thing to worry about. Rummaging through everything, I found a black and white notebook with my initials on the front, ITL—Indigo Tina Lewis. I flipped through the pages and heat washed over me. Jaxon wrote dozens of different things he was going to blackmail me with. Not only did he reference the pictures, but he had copies of my Dad’s paystubs, my sister Sidney’s last report card—and even my college acceptance letter. What would he need with all that? I fumed. He was plotting against me while I was trying to keep the peace. I closed the book and slid it into my bag for safekeeping.

  What led us to this point? How did this happen? How did I end up killing Jaxon, when we just graduated from high school the day before? I thought about my dad and Sidney. They needed me, and I still had so much to do for them. Jaxon had brought this on himself and that book of his proved it. My hands were shaking as I collected Jaxon’s bag and anything else that looked out of place. Standing in the center of the room, I tried to remember how it looked before Jaxon Green stepped foot through the door. Maybe it was my fault, I should’ve never told him to meet me at work. He pushed and pushed and pushed. At first it started with doing his homework, and that was okay. A fair exchange, I believed it to be at the time. Then he changed and wanted different things… things I wasn’t comfortable with. He talked to me like I was nothing—I had enough of his shit and I saw red. Maybe there had been another option? I’m not sure. But it didn’t present itself, and I did what I had to do.

  It was Friday morning and Tunica Rivers was still quiet. Nothing stirred outside and I cleaned up a murder inside. Who was this
person I had turned into?

  I was in a car accident when I was younger. Mama Jackie was t-boned by someone who missed the stop sign. It stopped traffic for miles and miles. Cars were backed up and honking at each other. I remember thinking, if people just kept driving, there wouldn’t be a jam. But everyone crept by us, slowing to see the damage and revel at their luck and our misfortune. They couldn’t help but stop to steal a peek. Did anybody die? Was it anyone they knew? Maybe I was the only one who had thoughts like that, I guess. Jaxon was my car accident, and this accident was that bad. Mr. Dennis asked me to lock up when I was finished for the day and trusted me with the keys. I cremated dozens of bodies to prepare for services, but never anyone I knew. And never by my own hands.

  I killed Jaxon. I killed nothing in my life, not even a bug. But Jaxon, Jaxon was important. Somewhere in my body, I felt nervous. But not the bad nervous that makes you question yourself and everything around you—the good nervous when something happens, and you’re pleased by the thought of a potential outcome. I would never say it out loud. I would dare not speak it but listening to Jaxon’s cries and watching his hand bang against the small incinerator window added extra pep to my step. My heart jumped with amazement. I don’t care what I allowed him to do in the past, today was a new day. My future was bright, just like the flames that illuminated Jaxon.

  Girls are expected to be dainty, feminine, sugar, spice, and everything nice. Fuck that shit. Respect me or be destroyed.

  I shut the lights off behind me and set the alarm. With it screaming in my ear, I inspected the room again. I really hoped Mr. Dennis noticed nothing out of order. Tyson and I alternated weekends working, and this weekend, he asked me to switch schedules with him. How do you say no to your boss’s son? Plus when it was his weekend he often forgot to sanitize. It was easier for us to just switch, at least I knew with me it would be clean.

  This should not have happened—I wasn’t even supposed to be here. To think, maybe this could’ve been avoided if I said no. That was how I got in this mess anyway, not saying no… no to Tyson, no to Jaxon.

  Who was I kidding? It was bound to happen; Jaxon kept trying his luck over and over again. I paced in the foyer while the alarm sounded. Locking the door behind me, I glared up at the neon Dennis & Sons Funeral Home sign. I had only been there a few months; before here I was working at the city art gallery. When I was younger, I used to throw pottery with my mom. Every week, she took Sidney and me to the studio and we sat in front of a massive piece of clay spinning on a potter’s wheel. She created such beautiful pieces of pottery crafted together with different shapes and textures. I loved it; that was our thing. Mom was in the hospital now—with no foreseeable discharge date. I try to devote more time to pottery and not worry about money, but pottery didn’t help pay for a prom dress or these college application fees. Money was what I needed.

  Dad was a janitor at the retirement home down on Laurel Road, and he’s been there for over twenty years. He did nothing else, and he didn’t want to do anything else. He always told Sidney and me to do our very best and things would just fall into place. “You’ll get rewarded for your brains,’’ he mused. Jaxon Green interrupted my job, and he interrupted my life.

  Once outside, I looked both ways and saw no one on the street. I took out all of the evidence in Jaxon’s bag and I shoved it into the trash can next to Dennis and Sons. The trash was already rank with what smelled like dirty diapers and old milkshakes. I choked from the smell and returned the lid after I stuffed his bag under the nauseating diapers.

  I headed straight for the corner store across the street. A blast of wind came and blew my braids in my face. Tugging on the door handle, I glimpsed myself in the entryway glass. When I left this morning, it was raining and overcast. My hair was in a flawless circle bun with braids and sat atop my head. You know, the kind of bun that takes you a couple tries to get right. You have to center it on your head, just perfect to stay in place all day. Sometimes I even break a sweat trying to get that baby straight. Hours later, my bun disappeared, and my braids were falling at my shoulders.

  A small spackle of dust, which sat under my eye, violated my dark brown skin. Once I realized it was there, it felt like acid on my face. My stomach sank. I hoped the spackle of dust wasn’t remnants of Jaxon. Glancing at my clothing, I wore jeans and a Tunica Rivers High School Newspaper Club long-sleeved shirt. That, too, had spackles of dust and was singed at the bottom from where it had burned. A lump formed in my throat.

  There was no way I could go in there looking like this—people would know what I had done. Backing away from the door, I turned in the opposite direction and sat on a nearby bench. My next move, I had no idea. I couldn’t call anyone. Dad would question why I was home from work so early. Sidney was only ten and couldn’t drive yet. Malachi had his mom’s old hooptie and might pick me up, but he would take one look at me and see my shame—plus he was currently at work at the movie theater in town. Mila would lose her shit, and Will… well… he and I are close and have been friends the longest. He would spot it on me a million miles away, better than even Malachi. There was no one to call.

  All things considered, maybe turning myself in to the police was my best option. I mean, I did kill someone.

  “Indigo?… Indigo, are you okay?”

  I swung my head and looked up at Joya, a junior from school. It was May and the school year was over, so I guess she was now a senior. The sun eclipsed Joya in front of me, so I lifted a hand to block it, trying to get a better look at her. Her eyes were wide with concern, inspecting me up and down. She was at the party that night when all of this started. I remembered fragments of her dancing on the piano and a few other things. I wonder if she knew that party would start all of this and leave Jaxon dead.

  “Do you need a ride?” She looked me up and down, sitting on the bench, my hair all over my head and my shirt wrinkled. Confusion lined her eyes.

  Would she be safe with me? Would I be safe with her? Joya and I shared moments that no one would ever know about, but still, was she a threat? I was hypervigilant, looking at everyone sideways after what I had just done. I was editor for the Tunica Rivers High School Newspaper Club before I graduated, and she would be a part of the team next school year. I kept her secrets, even without being asked; that’s what a good editor does, right? Always get your story and don’t reveal your sources.

  Watching her now, I felt… what was the show called? Naked and Afraid. Before my thoughts got the best of me, I stood and peered at the trash can where I stuffed Jaxon’s empty bag moments earlier. I faced Joya and pulled my bag over my shoulder.

  “Sure.”

  Joya motioned towards her white Audi. She hit her key fob, unlocking the doors with one swift motion. When she got her driver’s license she shared with Mila, who shared with me, that her parents bought it for her. I knew the truth and the real reason. I shuddered thinking about what she had to do for that car, and what she gave up. It was big news in town. The rest of us were making do with old Hondas, but she copped something brand new. Walking to the driver’s side with me trailing behind her, I watched her every move anticipating anything. Joya was heavyset with mocha skin. She wore a matching grey sweat suit with Jordan sneakers. She pulled her fine hair back into a tight bun and small bumps formed at her hairline from it being too tight. It was clinched with a large clip that said joy.

  Joya rolled her window down and pressed, “Are you coming or not?”

  Swallowing the lump forming in my throat and with no other options, I hopped into the car. Fumbling with the radio, Joya pressed a few buttons until Saweetie sounded from the speakers. She reversed the car and pulled off, glancing straight ahead as she turned. She didn’t look both ways.

  “8254 Trelawne Road,” I managed. My voice cracked.

  “Girl, I remember your address. Are you okay?” She drove with both hands on the steering wheel and glanced at me from the corner of he
r eyes. This was the second time we drove in the car and that question had been posed. Only that time I was asking her if she was okay. Things changed so quickly. Jaxon blackmailing me, and I thought about his hand up to the incinerator window and his last scream. Scenes from the party also replayed in my mind.

  Was I okay? We would see.

  “I’m good, thanks for asking.” I half smiled in Joya’s direction.

  My hand traveled to my chest and I palmed a small locket around my neck. It was a heart, and it said Sonia and Indigo—mom and me. For the first time since the Jaxon debacle, a tear came to my eye. I wanted my mom. She was in the psych hospital; we wrote letters back and forth to each other, but Sidney and I only laid eyes on our mother, Sonia Lewis, every few months.

  Each day felt like an eternity.

  We were passing the Hill. I peered over Joya’s shoulder and glimpsed Will’s house. Mila’s car was there. “Do you have any napkins?” I asked. I cracked my window while sweat formed on my head.

  My breathing was still uneven, and my body was heavy, like I was underwater with weights. My underarms were drenched in sweat and the stench was threatening to run down my sides. I held them tight against my chest. Joya reached into her glove box and retrieved a stack of napkins. She handed me a wad, and I dabbed at my face and hair. Joya shifted in her seat as her car slowed. Glancing up, I realized we were turning into my neighborhood. She slowed in front of my house and unlocked the car doors once more.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, not looking at her.

  “Indy, are you sure you’re okay?” Joya unbuckled her seat belt and turned towards me in the car.

  “I’m okay,” I smiled as fake and bright as I could. A tear threatened to fall, and I prayed Joya accepted my lies and left them alone. I grabbed my bags from the backseat, taking in her words.

  I walked the short path to my house and opened the wrought-iron gate. It creaked when I pushed. I winced and tried to close it slowly, hoping it didn’t wake my dad. Walking over to his car, I placed my hand on the hood. It was cold. You can always tell when the car is cold—it’s quiet; doesn’t make any noise. When someone arrived home not too long ago, it tingled to sleep. Dad’s car wasn’t tingling, and that was a good sign. Most days he hibernated bear style, and hopefully today would be one of those days.