“I was told to cut back.”
“By who?”
“James.”
“Is it a money thing?”
“I think they were pretty surprised at how much the bill was, yes. But in their defense, it’s been almost a month and we haven’t produced any compelling results. The goal was to gather information that we could use against him. Other than him being at the same places as some of your friends, his going to Oregon, New York, and a few coincidental Facebook things, we have nothing. Nothing we could take to a judge, anyway.”
“Do you think for my safety we should be watching him more?”
“I don’t know that twenty-four-seven is the answer, but, yes, I’d like to have the freedom to do what we think is best. For example, my man followed him to the club, but then went off duty.”
“From now on, you have the freedom to do what you think is best. Just bill me. And you need to give me more details about Vanessa because what you’re saying doesn’t make sense. Vanessa never went to a club alone. She made RiAnne and me go with her. And she may not have told RiAnne who she was leaving with, but she would have told her she was leaving. RiAnne was always her cover.”
“What do you mean, her cover?”
“It’s just not that unusual for her to go off with a guy for the weekend. And when she did that, she always told her dad that she was staying at RiAnnes. What did RiAnne say, exactly?”
“On her own wall, she said that Vanessa is missing, but on your Facebook wall she said, Vanessa is off radar and I’m going to be pissed if you two are having a reunion without me.
“Off radar means RiAnne has no idea where she is. You need to send her a message. Don’t write on her wall. Send her a direct message. Tell her that Vanessa is not with me. That I haven’t spoken to her or anyone else since my party. Tell her—and this is important—that I pinkie swear. She’ll come home, Garrett. She always does. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that he was there.”
“Like it was just a coincidence that he was in New York at Brooklyn’s tournament? I don’t think so. When she comes home, Keatyn, I’d like her to come home alive. We can’t find Vincent either.”
“What do you mean?”
“We can’t find him. He’s not at home. Didn’t go to his office today. His assistant said she wasn’t sure when he’d be back.”
“Wow,” is all I manage to mutter out. My mind is going in a million directions. Trying to process it all.
“When she went off with guys before, did she go to the same place? Is there somewhere we can look for her?”
“Not really. She’d take off and come back with some amazing story. And pictures. Always pictures. Do you really think she could be with Vincent?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
I remember her telling me that Vincent was hot that day at the hotel. “You might check The Chateau. It’s her favorite hotel and it’s where she met Vincent to begin with.”
“I’ll call you if I hear anything. You swear to me, she doesn’t know where you are? If she does, I want you out of there now. I’m serious.”
“I swear.”
I hit the end button on my phone with a shaking hand. I know at any moment I’m going to burst into tears. I can’t go to class.
I run my hand through my hair, look up, and see the chapel at the top of the hill. I put my head down and quickly walk toward it.
The heavy wooden doors open with a creak. Thankfully, no one is here. I choose a pew in the back row and plop down. I fold my hands and say a prayer.
Please, God, let Vanessa be okay. I don’t understand this. I gave up everything. My friends. My family. My home. I wanted to put as much distance as I could between us. I did it because I thought it would keep them safe. They told me it would keep them safe. I was so sure of my decision when I made it. I can still see the photo of the girls. I can still hear the voice in my head that told me they’d be safe. I don’t want anyone hurt because of me, and they are really the ones I did this for. They are the ones I gave my life up for. And I’ll give it up forever as long as those four little smiles stay safe.
Tears stream down my face as I’m praying, but when I think about the girls, I start bawling. I just put my face in my hands and cry. I miss them so much.
A hand touches my knee and a silky voice says, “Boots.”
I look up and Aiden’s eyes meet my tear-filled ones. Those green eyes that see straight through me. Those green eyes that always make me feel emotionally naked.
I close my eyes and start crying again. I don’t know why he’s here. He’s supposed to be mad at me. But he doesn’t act like he’s mad anymore. He wraps his arms around me and I melt into his chest. He whispers soothingly in my ear, “Shhhh, it’ll be okay.” And maybe I’m desperate, but when Aiden says it, I somehow believe him.
I shudder, sob a bit more, then soak in Aiden’s touch. The way his hand is tangled into the back of my hair. The way I can feel his heart beating against my cheek. The way his chest rises and falls with every breath he takes. The strength I feel in his muscular arms.
“Why aren’t you in class?” I whisper. But I don’t move.
He runs his hand through my hair. “I saw you sitting on the bench, talking on your phone. You had your head down the whole time. I was waiting so I could apologize for last night. Again. It feels like I’m always apologizing to you. But when you looked up, I could tell by the look on your face you were upset. And when you marched straight to the chapel, I knew you must be really upset. What happened?”
“I got some bad news from my family. Um, my friend, she has this guy who has been stalking her. She’s maybe missing right now.”
“And they think the stalker might have hurt her? What was their relationship? Did they date?”
“No, they think it started when he saw a picture of her.”
“A picture?”
“Yeah. Um, my friend wanted to be an actress and he saw a picture of her. They met. He flirted with her. Told her he wanted to make a movie with her. They actually had become friends. She thought he was nice.” I sit up and wipe tears away with my shaking hands. “Until he tried to kidnap her.”
I can’t believe I’m telling Aiden all of this. But what I really wish is that I could tell him the truth. That I could tell him it’s not my friend. It’s me. That I gave so much up to be here. And it’s not working. That I don’t know what to do. That I’m considered hopping a plane home and not telling anyone. That I’m thinking about confronting Vincent. That I’m thinking about finding a gun and killing him. But then I would go to jail and I would never ever see my sisters.
“So why isn’t the guy in jail?”
“She invited him to a party. There was a commotion. He told her he was taking her to a van out back. But she got away. A guy fought with him. The police came. They took her statement. She was hysterical. Threw up. She’d been drinking. It was her word against his. There was just not enough evidence.”
“That’s awful,” he says softly. He pulls me back against his chest. “Tell me the rest.”
I tell him everything. It all spills out of me. Everything I have been holding in.
I just lie and pretend it all happened to my friend.
“I’m sure she’ll be okay. Is that why you came here? To pray?”
I nod my head. “Yes. And I knew if I went to class I would start crying. I wouldn’t want anyone to see me like this. I’m sure I look gross.” I hang my head down so he doesn’t have to look at me.
Aiden gently pushes my chin up. “I told you before. I doubt you’re ever gross.”
I wipe the tears off my face again and look at my fingers. They’re covered in mascara and I know he’s so lying to me. “Aiden, do you ever lie?”
“I don’t like to be lied to, so I try not to.”
“My friend. She was afraid, so she left town. Just up and left. Didn’t tell very many people where she went. She’s living somewhere else under a different name. She’s meeting new people and making new friends, but she hasn’t told them what happened. Or that she’s using a new name. She feels like she’s living a lie.”
“Is she just lying about her name?”
“No, she has to lie about her past too. She wasn’t famous, but her parents are. People would recognize her name.”
“Well, I’m sure her new friends would understand if they found out.”
I lie down, putting my head in his lap, pull my feet up onto the pew, and curl up into a ball. “I’m afraid for her.”
He pulls my hair back off my face gently and runs his hand across my cheek. “What I told you in class. Whenever you need me, I’m there. I know we were talking about tutoring, but it goes for everything. You can always come talk to me when you’re upset.”
I let out a big sigh and new tears fall down my face. I wish that were true. “No, I can’t. Half the time you’re mad at me. You got so mad at me last night. I really wish we didn’t fight, Aiden.”
“It bothers you?”
“Yes, it bothers me. I like you. I wish we could be friends.”
“You know why I get mad, don’t you?”
“Yes. You jump to conclusions about things that you shouldn’t. Half the time you don’t let me finish my sentence before you go storming off. And then you pretend punch my head.”
He bends down and kisses the top of my forehead. “I’m sorry. I promise not to pretend punch your head ever again.”
I smile at him. “Thank you.”
He looks at his phone. “It’s my sister. She’s called me four times. Hang on.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I didn’t realize it was that late. It’s fine. Don’t worry. And yes, she’s with me.”
“Are we in trouble for skipping French?”
“We didn’t just skip French, Boots. School’s out. You’re supposed to be in the dance locker room and I’m supposed to be getting ready for the game.”
I sit up quickly. “What time is it?”
“5:45.”
“Ohmigosh! Are we going to be in trouble?”
“Tell you what. I’ll go talk to the dean. You go get ready for dance.”
I clean my face up as best as I can, straighten my red game day skirt, pull the short Cougars jersey down, and run to the field house. My hair is still damp around my face from all the tears that fell into it, and it’s chilly in the cool air.
Just as I open the door to the field house, Dawson confronts me.
And he’s pissed.
“Where have you been?”
“I was in the chapel.”
“With Aiden?”
I try hard not to start crying again. “Yes.”
Dawson closes his hands into tight fists. He looks ready to punch anyone who comes near him. “Were you hooking up with him?”
“Do I look like someone who’s been hooking up? Look at my face, Dawson. I have no makeup left on. I’m sure my eyes are all red. Do I look happy to you? You have got to stop this jealous bullshit and trust me. I had a horrible day, thanks for asking. And now I’m late.”
I push my way past him and into the dance locker room, where freaking Peyton meets me at the door.
She looks pissed, but then she really looks at me, sees the mess that I am, and pulls me into a hug. “Are you okay? Did you and Dawson break up?”
“Dawson and I aren’t going out, so we can’t break up.”
She steers me out of the dance room and into a field house bathroom and says, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Flavor of the week.
7:30pm
I screw up every single dance number I do. I can’t concentrate. Can’t keep one train of thought.
I want to check my phone, but our dance advisor makes us leave them in our lockers during the game. I’m the first one into the locker room at halftime. We have exactly eight minutes before we have to be on the field to perform with the band.
There is one message from Garrett.
Garrett: We’ve tapped into Vincent’s phone records. (Don’t ask.) He only made one call last night to his office number. We assume that’s when he told them he wouldn’t be in. Haven’t seen or heard from him or Vanessa. RiAnne responded to your Facebook message. She asked a bunch of questions about you, but said she is really worried about Vanessa. She said she even tried to reach Vanessa’s dad, but that he is not answering his phone. She says she is “freaking out worried.” We are in the process of running their credit cards. We’re proceeding as if it’s a kidnapping at this point. It’s been nearly 24 hours.
My throat drops into my stomach.
Me: If she’s not found by tomorrow morning, I’m getting on a plane and coming home.
Garrett: You will do nothing. Understand me. Nothing. Please do not compound this situation for me.
Me: I can’t sit here in hiding while my friend is wherever with him. I can’t.
Garrett: I am sending someone to sit outside your school. If you attempt to leave, you will be detained. Do you understand me?
“Come on, girls! Move!” Peyton yells and I’m hustled out the door.
It takes everything I have to put on a smile and perform at halftime. I focus on the dance. Try to lose myself in the music. Try to forget everything and focus on the steps. The moves.
The rest of the halftime show is a blur and pretty soon we are lined up with the cheerleaders to cheer for the team’s return to the field.