A/N: Not sure if I'm going to keep this chapter or not... let me know what you guys think!

Warning: Mild violence

"We should all go shopping tomorrow." Tatum suggested, nodding to Angela.

Angela finished emptying a bag of Doritos into a bowl, pondering this. "Definitely. I need some new clothes."

"Ugh, me too." Tatum nodded, dragging a case of beer out of the fridge and setting it on the counter. "You sure things are cool with you at home and all?"

"Positive." She assured her, the bag crinkling as she folded it and stuffed it back into the cupboard.

Somehow, Angela had allowed Tatum to persuade her into hanging around just until Stu got back from smoking with his sleazy friends. He'd informed Angela that he didn't get the chance to spark up often with Billy calling the shots. He was expected to take orders and stick to the plan. Besides, staying a bit longer was a good move on Angela's part. Heading out right after Billy's appearance could potentially pose a threat.

Though the prospect of spending a day shopping with them wasn't quite ideal, it'd be better for her image than laying around at home waiting for Billy to come creeping in her window again. Positioning herself up against the counter as Randy breezed in and grabbed a handful of Doritos, Angela watched him flick one at her.

"Well, Tatum, I wish I could say this has been fun."

"Whatever." She pressed her lips together. "I'll swing by with those movies tomorrow."

"Don't forget. It's a five dollar late charge."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "After 24 hours."

"Whose side are you on, Ang?"

"I'll see you tomorrow." She rolled her eyes at him, laughing.

As Randy left, Stu flounced in, bumping into his shoulder with a cheeky gin. Randy muttered something on his way out. Choosing to ignore it, Tatum looped her arm in Stu's and began a tirade of how awful his clothes reeked of pot. If Dewey got off patrol and smelled it, he'd flip, she promised him that.

"Well, I better get outta here." Angela jingled her car keys.

Stu tilted his head pointedly. "Geez, why so early?"

"Just really tired, that's all."

Angela nearly raced home. It wasn't that Angela didn't like Tatum. In fact, Tatum was promiscuous and superficial at first impression, but she had a good, caring heart. She was a good friend. As was Sidney, honestly. It was simply that Angela felt too irritated to sit around and mingle with a loved up Billy and Sidney.

Turning the wheel and bringing her car to a stop in the driveway, she had every intention of wiping her makeup off, rinsing her face and crawling into bed, enjoying a late night sitcom. Debating her sitcom options, she stuck the key into the door. Strangely enough, unlocking the front door lead her into a brightly lit foyer. Her Father should've been fast asleep by now.

"Angela?" His voice bellowed out. Tracing it to the dining room, she walked in and immediately wished she'd stayed at the party. "Angela, sit down a moment, please."

"David." She exclaimed, steadying herself by gripping the table.

He rose from his seat, all six feet and two inches of him towering over her. Offering her a pearly smile, his booming voice greeting her. "Angela."

"What... what're you doing here?"

"You haven't returned my calls for two months. I thought I had the wrong number, but..."

"So you came to my house?" Her voice was wobbly.

"Please, sit, pumpkin." Rich Edwards urged her.

Collapsing into the chair that faced the center of the table, her eyes never left David. David Thoreau was her boyfriend of four months. It would've been six, but she didn't count the two months since she'd been in Woodsboro. He was the crown jewel of her old school. Acclaimed quarterback, cherished by everyone. There had been time that Angela had been crazy about him.

That time was over. She was hopelessly falling for a man who was quite possibly the opposite of hulking David. He was nothing like her mysterious, brooding Billy. David was outgoing and jaunty; always willing to lend a hand to a complete stranger. The ideal American boy personified. His sweeping blonde hair and crystal blue eyes proved her point.

The gold watch on Rich's wrist glared below the chandelier as he lifted a glass of wine to his lips. Shifting uncomfortably, he set the glass down carefully. "David is going to be staying in the guest room tonight. He's come all this way to speak to you."

"Daddy, I-"

"I'm going to leave you two to your... discussion."

Angela defenselessly watched him leave the room. Shifting her gaze back to David, sitting where she'd been lost in Billy's arms just the night before, a knot formed in the deep pit of her stomach.

"What are you doing here?"

"I miss you, Angela."

"You... do?" She seemingly choked on her own voice.

"Yes. Of course."

"David, I didn't contact you for a reason. Did you ever get that through your skull?"

Sending the chair backwards, Angela trailed up the stairwell. David followed close behind at her heels. She moved to shut her bedroom door, but his strength overpowered her's by great numbers. Blatantly ignoring his droning, she slid onto the cushion of the vanity bench and started at unpinning the curls from her hair.

"What happened to you?"

She jerked to face him, shaking her curls out. "People change."

"Come on. We used to be crazy about each other."

"It's called infatuation."

"I didn't come here for infatuation. I love you, Angela."

Stacking the bobby pins in a neat little pile, her fingers froze. David loved her. Sure, they'd played out a sweet little relationship for a brief while, but it was nothing truly significant. She'd attended his games, and they'd sloppily kiss for a few minutes in his '75 Trans Am afterwards. It was child's play compared to the way Billy sent her emotions into a frenzy.

Gingerly taking a place on the windowsill, she examined his woeful eyes. "I'm sorry. I just don't feel the same way."

"I got accepted to University of Florida. Full football scholarship."

"Congratulations." Angela's usually silvery voice was aloof, sincerity lost. "I bet your parents are thrilled."

"Yeah, my Dad is." He admitted, toying with his car keys. "Look, I couldn't go without telling you how I feel."

"I should've told you sooner, David." She sighed. "I'm so sorry."

He leaned forward from where he was perched on the side of her bed, the collar of the plaid shirt under her black cashmere sweater stiffening. "Something's different with you."

"Different, how?"

"You seem..." He let out a small chuckle. "I don't know, just different."

"Well, my Mother did abandon me."

"I didn't mean that." He immediately said, apologizing. "I heard about the murders."

She strained to disclose her surprise. A distant sound caught her attention from outside, the wind rippling through the trees. "Crazy for something like that to happen here, huh?"

"Sure is. It's all over the news at home." He softened his tone. "Is that what's bothering you?"

"No."

He dropped it. "Stay safe out here."

"I will."

David closed the distance between them by joining her on the window sill. He smelled of pricey cologne that made her nostrils sting. Staring out at the quiet landscape, he supposed she was right. People did change. Shifting his gaze back to Angela, a melancholy grin playing at his charming features, his lips grazed her cheek. It was a sweet gesture, but she was immune to it.

"I hope you find what you're looking for."

"You, too." Angela's fingers found his, giving his strong hand a squeeze. "You're going to do great."

"Thanks, Ang." She watched him towering in the dooryway, hovering around for a minute. "Is there someone else?"

She composed her words carefully, trying her best to remain sensitive of his feelings. "Yeah. There is. I'm... sorry."

"He's a lucky man."

Disheartened by his rejection, David barely got any sleep in the cold guest suite of his ex-girlfriend's new home. Before dawn could break, he tossed his burly duffel bag into the back of his bright blue '75 Trans Am. Parked outside her lush front lawn, he gave it one last look over before climbing in and settling into the cool leather seats. It was a four hour drive back to San Francisco, and he'd better get going if he wanted to beat traffic.

The engine roaring to life, David careened out of there. His tires hitting the back roads that would drop him off on the freeway, he twisted the radio dial up in attempt to keep awake. Half an hour or so passed without passing a single vehicle besides his own, until he spotted a parked car in the middle of the road ahead.

Blinking his eyes, he slowed to a stop, turning down the fuzzy Oldies station on the radio as he approached the brand new green Camaro. A tall, lean guy with short blonde hair jumped from the driver side, waving his arms over his head frantically. Fumbling for the door handle, the car suddenly locked on him. The tall guy hurried over to his driver side window, panting. Tugging at the door handle, David glanced up to see his head shaking.

"You really should not have come here."

David scanned the area for any signs of danger. "Are you alright?"

"What a stand-up guy."

Before David had a chance to question him, he felt someone's hands squeeze the sides of his head from his backseat, slamming his forehead directly into the grip of the steering wheel. Shouting out in a whirlwind of shock, pain and confusion, David felt his skull crash into the wheel again. Seeing stars, he dizzily attempted to fight back, his arms flailing, trying to get one good hit in. That's all he needed.

Almost able to twist around, The man beside his car watched curiously. Why wasn't he helping? Shouting, David grappled for help. The same adrenaline that fueled him on the football field was in full swing. "Help!"

"No can do, pal."

Punching the window's glass out, it sent glass shards scattering onto the pavement. Blundering about for the door handle on the other side, he managed to wrap a finger around it before his head struck the metal center of the wheel again. This time, it was much more violent, and a loud crack rang out upon impact. Paralyzed, a hot liquid dribbled down his face. White hot pain that shot down in daggers from the top of his scalp tortured him.

Groaning in agony; the person in his backseat yanked his head back. Managing to pry open his car door, he caught glimpse of the Trans Am logo swamped in his own blood. The man who'd flagged him down danced over the glass, slamming the door tightly. Hardly able to open his mouth, he croaked out a name. Angela. He craved her so bad right now, to hold him and make this all better.

Sputtering her name once more pathetically, his killer bashed his head into the center of the wheel again, the horn cutting through the silence of the night. He could no longer see, but his hearing picked up the two voices speaking something to one another. If they'd struck up conversation prior to the latest blow, he may have been able to work to identify words.

The pressure returned, and one final, forceful crack into the cool metal was all it took to send every last inch of life out of his body. The bloodied glass glinting on the road, the radio cutting off.

The following morning, Angela shrugged into her silk blue robe, and peeked into the guest room. The bed was rumbled, thin wrinkles sprawling across the linen. No sign of David. Breathing a sigh of relief, she pulled the comforter up and over the pillows. Practically all last night, she'd been dreading facing his sad eyes in the morning. Trudging down the stairs, she prepared to chew into her Father for even letting him in.

Unable to score a chance of that, the police were stuffily huddled around the loveseat, where her Father sat with his hands tightly clasped. At the creak of her footsteps, everyone in the room adjusted so that they were facing her. Offering them a weary smile, her mind was set ablaze. This was the moment she'd fretted over. Somehow, Billy and Stu had been caught.

"Miss Edwards?" Dewey was one of the officers present, rushing to her side.

"Y-yes?"

"I have some bad news."

"Bad news?" She locked eyes with her Father. Something was surely amiss. "What's going on?"

"David Thoreau crashed his car early this morning. I'm sorry, Angela, but he's dead."

"Dead?"

One of the other officers cleared his throat. "Yes. Unfortunately, we cannot disclose any further official information."

"I can't believe it."

She breathed, grasping Dewey's arm just in time. Taken back from this at first, he wobbled a bit. She ached to let out a hefty sigh of relief. Of course she had her remorse for David, he had a grand entire future sprawled out ahead of him, but she wasn't about to be thrown into a cold prison cell. Being an undiscovered accessory to murder was reason enough to be relieved.

"His radio had faulty wires, and the whole car burst into flames on impact." Dewey mumbled. "I am real sorry."

"Dewey." The chief snapped, reprimanding him.

"Sorry, sir."

"Is this connected to the murders, by any chance?" Rich piped up, narrowing his eyes.

The chief uneasily shook his head. "We don't know. We have no reason to believe so, but... we've already said too much."

Angela saw their mouths moving, but couldn't seem to process this. David was dead. He was such a good guy. He wasn't pretentious, he came from a well off family. Just because she didn't have a crush on him anymore didn't mean she wished for him dead. Even worse, it was because of his feelings for her, drawing him up here, that he'd died.

Yet it wasn't shocking he'd wrecked that damned Trans Am. He drove entirely fast back in the city, whooping and peeling wheels every chance he got with his bonehead friends. She wondered if his parents had been notified yet. Looking up to ask this question, a disturbing thought rendered her mute.

Angela doubted he'd be in the mood to race last night.