SPIN

by K. J. Farnham

  SPIN

  K. J. Farnham

  SPIN

  Copyright © 2019 by K. J. Farnham

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design © Qdesign

  Edited by Leah Campbell

  Edited & Formatted by The Letterers Collective

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, locations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts.

  Version: 03-30-2019

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  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

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  More Books by K. J.

  Reader Bonus - Excerpt from Don’t Call Me Kit Kat

  About the Author

  For my Grandma Esther

  Prologue

  Bonnie Kemp

  Friday, May 11, 2018

  Six and a Half Months After Jenna’s Disappearance

  I take a deep, cleansing breath as I grip the knob of Jenna’s bedroom door. It’s been thirteen days since I was last in there—a record since bringing her home from the hospital and laying her in her bassinet sixteen years ago.

  “Quick in and out, Lulu. Okay?” I look down at Jenna’s dog. Every few days, the black lab incessantly whines and scratches where the door meets the floor, eager to enter her beloved owner’s room. Today happens to be one of those days.

  As soon as I open the door a crack, Lulu bolts inside, causing me to lose my grip on the knob and forcing the door to fly wide open. The energetic dog quickly gets to work sniffing every square inch of Jenna’s room as if searching for clues that might reveal her whereabouts.

  I smile somberly and shake my head before stepping inside and glancing around the room. The sting in my heart isn’t nearly as sharp as I anticipated it would be, but it’s there, nonetheless.

  My gaze falls to Jenna’s desk, which has been left untouched since the police came through to look for items of interest. Surrounding Jenna’s Chromebook are a holder for pens and Post-it notes, a tube of lip balm, a basket with random keepsakes, and a few notebooks and textbooks—all items that the police had left behind.

  To me, Jenna is missing, not gone for good. Missing, not dead, despite what the Briarwood Police Department may think. I’m furious that they’ve given up the search. It’s like a slap in the face, thinking about all the stones that have probably been left unturned.

  I scan the room one last time.

  “Come on, Lulu,” I say as I head for the hallway. I begin to pull Jenna’s door closed, expecting Lulu to make her exit any moment, but she remains seated next to Jenna’s nightstand.

  “Lulu,” I press, “let’s go, girl.”

  The dog still doesn’t budge. Instead, she whines, her tail sweeping the floor maniacally. Then she sniffs Jenna’s nightstand.

  “Ohhh,” I say, joining Lulu next to Jenna’s bed. “I know what you want.” I place my phone on the nightstand and reach for the handle of the second drawer. I close my eyes for a moment, and images of the night I invaded Jenna’s privacy by reading her diary play behind my eyelids. It wasn’t long after that Jenna started changing, and then she went missing. I’ll always wonder if my betrayal was partly to blame.

  The guilt in my heart causes me to bring my hands to my face. I press my fingers against my eyelids as if they’re buttons intended to deactivate the troubling thoughts that are always lingering in the back of my mind. The sensation of Lulu’s cold, wet nose against my elbow snaps me out of the trance I’ve fallen under, and before I have a chance to change my mind, I pull open the drawer.

  My gaze immediately falls on Jenna’s new diary. It’s a replica of the same diary I so callously peeked at last summer, the one Jenna had tossed in the kitchen trash can after we had a blowout over my betrayal. I’d been shocked to see this new, nearly identical diary (save for the Briarwood High Cross Country sticker on the back) when we did a frantic sweep of Jenna’s room after two full days with no contact from her.

  Lulu whines, once again pulling me from my thoughts and prompting me to pick up the quart-sized Ziploc bag full of dog bones next to the diary. Lulu’s tail thumps wildly, zigzagging from the floor to the nightstand as I pull open the bag and remove a bone. The dog happily accepts a treat, and immediately begs for another, so I give the command Jenna used to give as I toss a second bone a couple feet into the air. “Leap, Lulu!”

  Lulu isn’t quite ready, so the treat bounces off the tip of her nose and falls to the floor, sliding under the two-inch gap beneath the nightstand.

  “A little rusty, huh, Lulu?” I ask with an amused grin as I get down on my knees and slide a hand under the nightstand to search for the fallen goodie. Lulu whines and pokes her nose under too, but neither of us can seem to find the treat. “I guess I’ll have to get it with the vacuum later today. Or whenever I feel like vacuuming . . .” I say, leaving the treat for now. But Lulu continues whining and scratching at the base of the nightstand, so I sigh, grab my phone from the nightstand, and give it a shake to activate the flashlight.

  I get back down on my knees, press my cheek to the floor, and with the help of the light, I spot the treat right away. As I reach my hand all the way into the back-left corner, my knuckles brush against a smooth surface on the underside of the nightstand. The texture strikes me as odd, so as soon as I hand the rescued treat over to Lulu, I return my cheek to the floor and shine the light under the nightstand again, this time tilting my gaze upward toward the underside where I see something that causes my breath to halt. I collapse onto my stomach, momentarily paralyzed.

  Could it really be?

  A gentle tug results in the sound Velcro makes when its hook and loop fasteners separate. Sitting cross-legged with my mouth ajar, I examine my discovery: a diary identical to the one in Jenna’s drawer.

  It can’t be.

  I run the fingers of my right hand across the cover and flip
it over to reveal something that makes me shudder uncontrollably. Smack-dab in the center of the back cover is a worn Briarwood High School Cross Country team sticker. It’s the diary Jenna had thrown away on the night of our big blowout. She must have fished it out of the garbage after everyone had gone to bed.

  Realizing what my find could reveal, I frantically open the tattered notebook and flip to the last entry dated Thursday, October 26, 2017.

  I exhale a hard, swift breath when recognition sets in. The final entry was written the day before Jenna went missing.

  As I read the entry, I have to remind myself to breathe, and I pause several times to ensure I don’t pass out. I can’t process everything and have to reread the most alarming parts . . . I can’t talk to him anymore . . . he was upset . . . starting to creep me out . . . planned to meet him tomorrow night . . .

  I know the howl that echoed through my brain must have escaped me when Joseph rushes into the room. In a daze, I look up at him. His lips are moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. I look over at Lulu who’s cowering in the corner and wonder if she knew all along that Jenna’s diary was under the nightstand. If so, why didn’t she let us know? We would have known about his lies much sooner.

  I glance around the spinning room and realize my thoughts are irrational and my anger toward Lulu is misplaced.

  I look back at Joseph and can finally hear him.

  “Bonnie? What’s wrong?” He’s crouched at my side, his hands cradling my face. “What is it?”

  I stare at him, still speechless.

  He maintains eye contact for a moment but then follows my gaze as I glance down at the long-lost diary in my lap. “What’s . . . Is that . . .” His eyes widen and remain focused on the object in my lap as he settles onto the floor next to me.

  I burst into tears and jump to my feet, clutching the open diary to my chest. “It was him . . . it had to be him . . .”

  “Bonnie, wait . . .” Joseph scrambles to his feet and reaches for me, but all he gets is a strand of hair because I’m moving too fast.

  “He lied. Dear Lord, Joseph, he lied! And he got away with it!”

  Joseph enters the hallway behind me just as Shaina jumps out of my way. I glance back to see her with her back pinned to the wall. Joseph gives her a comforting squeeze on the upper arm as he rushes past. I turn and continue down the stairs and into the kitchen. Joseph rounds the corner as I frantically grab my oversized purse from the coat hook next to the garage door and shove Jenna’s recovered diary inside.

  “Who? Who lied? And where are you going?!” Joseph asks as he grasps my shoulder. He spins me around with one hand and reaches over my head with the other to hold the door to the garage closed.

  “Move your hand, Joseph! I need to get to the police station!” I can barely see through the tears that are flooding my eyes and streaming down my cheeks so fast that the top half of my T-shirt is speckled with drops.

  “Okay . . . it’s okay,” he says, slowly removing his hand from the door and raising both into the air in submission. “Just tell me what’s going on. Please. Then I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed, acutely aware of each painful breath I’m taking. When I open them, Joseph is looking at Shaina, who’s made her way into the kitchen but remains next to the refrigerator. Just like Joseph, Shaina has become accustomed to tiptoeing around the house, especially when I’m having a rough time. A single tear trails down her left cheek in response to my outburst. I want to rush to her, to comfort her, but I can’t right now. Not when the key to Jenna’s whereabouts could now be in my possession.

  “No,” I say, calling Joseph’s attention back to me. I reach into my bag to retrieve the diary and hold it out to him. “I’ll drive. You read.” After he takes it, I sniffle and straighten my posture, my expression once again strong, determined, and resolute. “It’s the last entry. The one from October twenty-sixth. We’re going to find her, Joseph.”

  Chapter One

  Keeley Simon

  Saturday, October 28, 2017

  One Day After Jenna’s Disappearance

  “Hello?” My mom tilts her head slightly, pinning the phone between her shoulder and the dangly silver earring hanging from her right earlobe. She pours a dash of half and half into her coffee. “Uh, nope. Sorry, Bonnie, we haven’t seen her.”

  Bonnie? Jenna’s mom? I look up from my scrambled eggs.

  My mom stops stirring, her thumb and forefinger gently gripping the spoon handle sticking out from the oversized coffee mug she always uses. A look of concern spreads across her face, and her eyes meet mine for a split second before she steps away from the kitchen table and turns toward the island. I lower my eyes to her mug, and my thoughts begin to race. It sounds like Mrs. Kemp is talking faster than normal, but I can’t make out anything she’s saying.

  “No, I don’t think . . . Okay, hold on. I’ll ask her.” My mom holds the phone to her chest as she turns to face me. Her voice quickly shifts from casual to a concerned whisper. “Bonnie says the car Jenna uses is parked in the driveway, but she doesn’t think she slept at home. And her phone has been going straight to voicemail all morning. Do you have any idea where she might be? Did you and Delaney see her while you were out last night?”

  She knows we haven’t been hanging out with Jenna lately, but her eyes are wide, hopeful that I’ll say yes. I shake my head, doing my best to mask the panic bubbling up inside me and deciding not to mention the texts Jenna sent me last night. My mom inches the phone back to her ear, maintaining eye contact as she relays my response to Mrs. Kemp.

  “I’m so sorry, Bonnie, but . . .” There’s some rapid mumbling, and my mom’s chest deflates. “Well, are you sure she didn’t sneak in without your knowledge? Maybe she’s gone for a run? Or maybe she spent the night at . . .”

  Spent the night where, Mom? You have no idea who Jenna has been hanging out with lately. If you did, you probably wouldn’t continue asking why we haven’t been spending time together. Because you’d be relieved.

  Then again, if my mom knew, she probably would have called Jenna’s mom weeks ago, and maybe Mrs. Kemp wouldn’t be looking for Jenna now.

  Does me not wanting to be a nark make me a shitty friend?

  “Hmm . . . okay. Can you please hold for a second, Bonnie?” This time my mom looks at me suspiciously. “Keeley, Bonnie says Jenna has been spending a lot of time with a girl named Leighton, and she seems to think you and Delaney have been too. I’m confused . . . why haven’t I heard of this girl before?”

  I clench my jaw and take a quick sip of orange juice to buy some think time. “I don’t know,” I say with a shrug as I place my glass back on the table. “Leighton is new, and Jenna has some classes with her, so they study together sometimes. But Delaney and I haven’t really hung out with them.” I look down at my plate and wonder if Mrs. Kemp is really this clueless about what Jenna has been up to lately? Does she even know anything at all about Leighton?

  “So that’s it? They just study together, and Jenna never invited this new girl to hang out with you or any of your other friends?” I can hear the confusion in her voice.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I say, rising to join my mom at the island. “None of us really know much about Leighton. But Jenna seems to really like her.” Oops. The hint of jealousy in my voice was unintentional.

  “Wait. Is that why you and Jenna haven’t been spending time together lately? Because of this girl? Why haven’t you mentioned her before? Do you not like her?”

  Wonderful. Rapid-fire questioning. “I guess that’s part of it. But friendships change too, right? I mean, you’ve told me that a bunch of times. So, it’s not really that big a deal.” Or is it? “And I didn’t mention Leighton because she’s just . . .” I break eye contact. I’ve never been good at lying to someone’s face.

  “She’s what?” my mom whispers as she presses the phone tighter to her chest.

  I prop my elbows on the counter and twist my pal
ms into my eyes.

  “Keeley, she’s what?”

  “She just doesn’t seem like the kind of person I’d want to be friends with,” I say, standing upright and folding my arms.

  My mom flexes what she refers to as her “eleven lines”—aka the vertical creases in the middle of her forehead. “Well, if you think that then why has Jenna been hanging out with her instead of you and Delaney and all your other friends?”

  “Because. I’ve already told you. Jenna’s been acting different lately. She’s trying to . . .” I pause, frustration welling up inside me. “. . . find herself or something. Did Mrs. Kemp try to call Leighton? Maybe Jenna’s over there.”

  My mom sighs and returns to Mrs. Kemp, and I return to my seat. I can barely contain my racing thoughts as I cut through the slice of avocado next to my eggs with the edge of my fork. Jenna’s fine. She’s probably just sleeping off a hangover at Leighton’s house. She was probably drunk when she texted me. But what if something happened to her? What if I’m the shittiest friend ever for not returning her text and for not telling my parents or Jenna’s parents how weird she’s been acting?