by Amy Waeschle
“I just want to make sure,” she said quickly.
“Dana, how’s he going to feel when his crew finds out his mommy’s looking for him?”
“Zach, please,” she begged.
Zach breathed into the phone, his thoughts spinning like pinwheels in a gale. “I can find out which boat he’s on, but that’s it. You have to leave him alone.”
“I can’t,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.
Zach grimaced. He lowered the phone to his lap, then punched the END button and threw it across the cab.
Chapter 22
Zach
Zach flew up the driveway, spraying gravel at the bend before stopping inches from the dumpster. He yanked his emergency brake and shoved open the door. He leaned back and closed his eyes, scrubbed his stubbled face, and tried to breathe.
The cool air washed over him. Slowly, he lowered his hands and stepped from the truck, shutting the door as he turned towards the garage to get his toolbelt and sawhorses. But as he ducked under the retracting door, he noticed the pair of skateboards and a helmet deposited at the base of the treehouse. Zach paused, his brain trying to reconcile the thoughts that didn’t match.
“Jessie?” he called, stepping back out of the garage. He checked his watch. Did Jessie have a day off of school today? He had never been very good about keeping track of such things, mostly because Jessie had it wired. He walked to the treehouse and peered up, curious to find out how she and Cam had arrived here on their own. Maybe Greta had given them a ride?
“Jessie? Cam?” he hollered into the space, even though from the silence, realized that they weren’t there. He climbed the ladder. On the floor he found his pistachios and two piles of shells. From the treehouse windows, he searched the surrounding area. Where were they? His curiosity shifted to a feeling of unease. He braced his hands on his hips, thinking. His property wasn’t that big. If they were here, they should have answered him by now.
He fought down a sense of dread. I’m just keyed up from this morning, he thought. She’s here somewhere.
After a thorough search of the unfinished house and they still didn’t show, Zach jogged down the trail to the beach. “Jessie?” he called out to the empty woods. The dirt path didn’t present any footprints, but he completed the loop anyway. Once at the rocky shore, he looked in both directions and called out again. Just as his gut told him, they weren’t there.
He hurried back to the house, telling himself to calm down. They were probably at a neighbor’s, or had walked to the gas station convenience store for a soda. He checked his watch again: almost two p.m..
When he rounded the house, Jessie stood waiting for him next to the porch.
Relief at seeing her flooded his mind, but the alarm bells were still ringing. The boy standing next to her, a defiant look in his eye, was not Cam.
Zach sized him up: tall and lanky, his narrow nose crooked in a way that told him it had been broken more than once, full lips. He wore faded jeans that were frayed at the cuffs, skate shoes, and a dark blue waffle-knit Henley. Just inside the collar, Zach saw a linked silver chain. He was following Zach’s every move, as if ready to stand his ground.
“Where were you?” Zach asked, turning his attention to Jessie. “I searched every inch of this place.”
Jessie opened her mouth and her eyes darted away. Immediately he knew what he was about to hear was a lie. “We were picking apples,” she said.
Zach went back up to the boy’s hazel eyes and felt the tug of a memory. “Who are you?” he asked.
Jessie’s gaze skittered from him to the boy. “This is Stef,” she said.
Zach blinked. What kind of a name was Stef? As in Stefan?
The boy’s chest muscles seemed to tighten as Zach looked from him to Jessie’s wide-eyed gaze and back.
Zach approached the boy and extended his hand.
They shook, and their eyes met. “Do I know you?” Zach asked.
Zach watched Stef’s eyes widen as the recognition hit, then withdraw into themselves. The boy shook his head, sniffed loudly, then looked away.
Zach released his hand, working his memories. Where had he seen this kid? At the skatepark? Hanging around at school with Jessie and Cam?
“Did you two have a day off from school today?” Zach had intended it to sound casual. I’m just looking for information. But it came out sounding harsh, and judgmental.
Jessie’s face flushed.
Zach scratched at the hair behind his ears and squinted at the two of them, completely at a loss of what to say.
A memory began floating slowly from where Zach had stuffed it. Something to do with the boy’s eyes.
Something else was throwing him. Jessie was wearing only a t-shirt and . . . her body had . . . well, changed. He felt an emotional tug on his heartstrings edged with a sensation of extreme discomfort. He released a shaky breath. She’s still my L.T., he told himself. Nothing will ever change that.
Jessie flashed Zach with a desperate look that cut him off at the knees. He realized that he may have interrupted them. Were they . . . together? Holy Jesus motherfucker, he thought, his bottled rage from earlier rising into his throat.
Stef scrubbed the sole of his shoes against the top of a root, his eyes remaining low.
“Maybe I should take you home,” Zach said, his voice so sharp Jessie jumped. Obediently, she pushed off from the deck and grabbed her helmet and skateboard.
He peered at Stef. “Can I give you a lift?”
But Stef had already grabbed his board and was turning away. “No thanks,” he replied. He scooped up a shearling-lined jeans jacket and swung it over his shoulder, but the movement was awkward, the swoop lower and his grimace revealing the pain it caused.
The rest of the memory locked into place and Zach froze.
The boy rocking in pain on the bed with the tan comforter while his mother cried softly in the hallway and his dad was led away in cuffs. The boy with the burn scars. The boy he’d treated more than once.
The boy from The Grove.
His dad a drug dealer who sold to kids like Garrett, his mom too frail to break free.
Zach watched Stef walk down the driveway, a conflicting set of emotions twisting his nerves into knots. A friend like Jessie could be the best thing to happen to him, but their lives were so different. Could he be exposing her to things she wasn’t ready for?
Zach sped past trees and pastures. Jessie looked out the window, the tension between them making his truck feel stuffy and tight. She hugged herself, as if cold. He spun the heater dial to warm the cab.
“I left my sweatshirt at the church,” she said. “Can we stop there?”
Zach shot her a glance, still floored by the certainty that she and Stef had been up to no good. The thought of Stef’s hands on Jessie’s body made him feel sick. You’re too young for this!, he thought, feeling desperate, only for what he couldn’t identify.
Zach sighed a tight breath but it provided no relief. Was Dana helping Jessie figure out stuff about boys? Please don’t say I have to be the one to talk to her about it, he thought, breaking into a cold sweat.
“Why weren’t you in school?” he asked.
“I wasn’t feeling good,” she replied.
“Okay,” he said, trying to be patient. “Yet you felt good enough to get to the house with that kid?”
“He’s my friend.”
Zach shot her a glance through the rearview.
Jessie huffed. “It was a shitty day, okay?” she finally said.
“So shitty that your only option was cutting?” Zach blurted, then wished he’d kept his cool.
Her eyes flashed with hurt.
Okay, back up, Zach thought with a sigh. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked, managing to soften the edge in his voice.
Jessie looked out the window.
He wondered how Dana would react to Jessie being alone with a strange boy in the middle of a school day. “Or your mom?” he added.
J
essie’s mouth tightened, giving her face hard angles. “Right,” she muttered.
“What?”
“Like she cares.”
“That’s not true,” he insisted, though made a mental bookmark so he could return to it later. Or confront Dana with it. My god!, he thought. Am I the only one paying attention here?
“Bullshit,” Jessie said.
“That’s the second time you’ve cussed today.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “What’s gotten into you?”
Without warning, his mind downloaded fragments from his own sexual experiences as a teenage boy. Zach knew firsthand how persistent and hungry boys of that age could be. The thought made him want to vomit.
Suddenly, Jessie looked so fragile, all skinny legs and elbows, and though he knew she was tough, the thought of a boy like Stef influencing her drove a nail right through his heart.
“Where’s this church?” he asked.
Jessie directed him to Saint Olaf. After ascending to the broad parking lot, he parked and watched Jessie search the bushes only to return empty-handed.
“Maybe someone at the church found it,” Zach said. “They probably have a lost and found.” The parking lot was empty. “We can come back tomorrow and ask.”
“I can’t lose it,” she added, sounding near tears. “It’s Evan’s.”
Was that why she never took it off? Because it kept alive some kind of connection with her brother? Or was she using the oversized sweatshirt like a layer of protection—a warrior’s shield, even—like her beloved Wax Museum character Joan of Arc? Both ideas made his heart quiver. He hit pause on the frustration and fear-driven thoughts to get a better handle on where Jessie might be coming from.
Jessie hiding herself didn’t fit with the confident, fearless Little Tiger he knew. A flood of compassion washed through him—though he had no idea how to express it without completely embarrassing her and himself.
“Will you teach me how to fight?” Jessie asked, startling him. “I mean, for real. Not that kid’s stuff you taught me in fifth grade.”
Zach’s heart skipped a beat as a different scenario going down at the house filled his mind. “Jessie,” he said carefully. “Is someone making you do something you don’t want?”
Her look of such hurt made him feel as if someone had suddenly pulled the rug from under him and he was on his way to the floor.
“No,” she said.
Zach realized that he was holding his breath.
“I just . . . would feel better,” she said.
“Is that why you left school today? Did you get in a fight?”
Jessie’s face flushed. “No,” she said, not looking at him. Another lie, he thought.
Zach waited for more but it didn’t come. “Self defense is one thing,” he said finally. “But fighting is dangerous. And it doesn’t work.”
“It worked for Joan of Arc,” she said. Her intense gaze made her look much older than thirteen.
Here we go with the whole Joan of Arc thing again, Zach thought. “That was different. She was taking on a whole army.”
“Will you teach me or not?”
“How about I teach you the one thing that does work?” he said, downshifting to merge with the highway.
She was eyeing him skeptically. “What?”
Zach heaved a heavy sigh. “Running,” he said.
Dana’s car wasn’t in the driveway but he tried to tell himself that she had probably run an errand and would be home any minute. Once inside, Jessie beelined for her room, shutting the door with a firmness that sent his thoughts spinning all over again.
Zach did a quick search of the house, but Dana wasn’t there. Her running shoes were parked by the door, so that wasn’t it. He checked his phone but hadn’t missed a call or text.
He tried her number, but she didn’t pick up. He sent a message, then put his phone down on the counter and started digging through the fridge for dinner fixings.
An hour later, Zach had prepped a salad and a batch of rolls that were rising on the back of the stove. Dana still wasn’t home. Jessie hadn’t emerged.
The house phone rang and he lunged for it.
“Hello?” he said, but an automated voice began speaking. He realized that it was from the school, reporting Jessie’s missing attendance record for the last two periods of the day. The message reminded to send an excuse note the following day.
Zach hung up, then checked his phone again. Nothing. The uneasy feeling spreading through him about Jessie and the trouble she might be in mixed with everything else he’d been through that day, making his stomach feel bouncy and slightly sick.
He pulled Jessie from her room to help get dinner ready.
“Where’s mom?” Jessie asked. Her hair was still wet from her bath. She had put on a set of royal blue men’s style pajamas that looked too big for her. He realized that they must be Evan’s.
“I’m not sure,” Zach replied in a tight voice.
Jessie grabbed the silverware from the tray and carried it to the table. “Did she go for a run?”
Zach shook his head.
Jessie’s face did a slow shift. “She’s probably out putting up those posters,” she grumbled, coming back for the plates.
Zach hadn’t thought of this. “Of Evan?” he asked.
“No. Some other kid.”
“Garrett?”
Jessie plucked the roll of paper towels from under the sink and tore off three to use as napkins. “No idea. I just saw the stack when she got back from OfficeMax.”
Zach leaned his back against the counter, thinking. The posters would be useless now that she knew that Zach had talked to Garrett and had a lead on Evan’s location. She had wanted more information, so where had she gone to find it? He tried to put himself in her mindset. He had told her that Evan had possibly tried to get on for king crab season. Where would she go to find out more? Most Alaska fishing fleets were headquartered in Seattle.
“Goddamn it,” he cursed under his breath.
Finally, two hours later, Dana called. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I lost track of time.”
“Where the hell are you?” Zach said, gripping the phone.
Dana paused. “Ballard.”
“Dana,” Zach sighed.
“Nobody knew anything on the phone,” Dana replied, her voice defensive. “I had to go in person.” Zach heard the horn from Dana’s departing ferry blare in the background. “I haven’t found him yet, but I’m so close, Zach,” she said. “I can tell. He’s got to be on a boat up there, on one of those king crab boats.”
“What if he is? That means he’s safe. He’s living his life.” His anger flared. “You should try it sometime.”
He heard the wind blasting as she stood on the deck. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, and hung up.
Chapter 23
Jessie
Jessie woke to the sound of Zach leaving for work and blinked at her alarm clock, wondering why she had missed its chime. She dressed quickly in the flannel she had found in Evan’s closet—the fancy brand one her mom had bought while he was still at Timberline, and her favorite jeans, then added last winter’s ski coat, the zipper straining as she pulled it up her chest. She grimaced, realizing she may never see Evan’s hoodie again.
In the kitchen, she found a note written in simple print: Please excuse Jessie’s absence yesterday. Thank you, with Zach’s unreadable signature at the bottom.
She knew Cam would already have left their corner—if he’d waited at all, and sure enough, it was empty when she hurried by. Once at school, Jessie dropped off the note, did a quick book exchange at her locker, then sprinted across the street to the big double doors of the high school.
Breathless, she slid into her math seat and found an unwelcome surprise waiting facedown on her desk: her quiz grade, a sixty-two. She scrutinized every problem, looking for possible ways that Mr. Darnell could have made a mistake, but soon realized that the mistakes were all her own.
Mr
. Darnell started the class by reviewing the individual quiz problems that the students wanted explained. Mr. Darnell wrote the list on the board, and after one last scan—did his twinkly-eyed gaze linger on her?—Mr. Darnell began tackling the first problem on the board. Jessie noticed Stef’s still-empty seat.
She forced herself to pay attention to the explanations, but they only frustrated her. She’d made stupid mistakes. One problem she hadn’t even finished. She looked out the window, feeling an unease she couldn’t place.
Too soon the room fell silent as the class began on their assignment. Jessie was pulled from her daydreams, realizing that she had spaced out during the entire lesson. She opened her book to the page listed on the board and stared uncomprehendingly at the set of problems.
If only she’d stayed after, the way Mr. Darnell had offered, maybe she would have missed them. Darnell had pulled her aside. His planning period was next so he had time to help her. She stood and stammered about how sorry she was but really, she’d just had a bad day and she promised to do better. Really, she didn’t need any help. Plus, she didn’t want to be late to Health and the final day of the egg baby project, where she planned to make everything up to Cam. Mr. Darnell handed her a late note and she’d crammed it into her pack that was bulging with her stuffed-in coat and math textbook and rushed off just as the bell rang.
They came around the corner just as she hurried by the bathroom. The look in their eyes seemed to hit her in slow motion.
“There she is!” one of them called.
Jessie started to run, her feet slapping the hard pavement, but they caught her before she made it more than a few steps. Jessie fought them, yanking her arms and resisting with her feet. She cried out but something jabbed into her side and she gasped in pain. They dragged her into the handicapped stall in the bathroom. The girl with spider eyes cornered her, a triumphant look in her eyes.