Cruel Abandon

by S. Massery

  I gnaw on my lip, then sigh. “It ended up okay, but I wouldn’t want to be alone in a room with Colt… ever again.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  She clears her throat. “Whitney was supposed to join us, yes. She sent me a text that she got sick and couldn’t make it.”

  I hum. “You’d think her parents would know, right?”

  “Yeah, unless she snuck out anyway. Maybe to meet a boy?” She snorts. “She loves her secrets.”

  I was one of her biggest secrets.

  “I’m a bit worried,” I admit. “Her mom called me.”

  Taryn sucks in a breath. “No offense, but that woman isn’t your biggest fan. Was she calling to accuse you of something?”

  “No. I think they’re convinced she’s missing, though.” I zip up my bag and throw it over my shoulder. The plants will survive a week, and the rest is just… stuff. I don’t know why it feels like I won’t come back here. It’s that sneaking feeling in my gut that something awful is about to happen. “I’m headed home for the week. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “You know what? That’s probably for the best. God, I think I need to do the same thing.”

  I smile. “Definitely. Do it.”

  “You sold me on it,” she says. “And I’ll reach out, see if I can unearth Whitney.”

  I can almost feel her wince from here.

  “Poor choice of words,” she adds. “Forget I said that.”

  “Forgotten,” I say.

  I walk into the living room and stop dead. The news… well, it seems Whitney’s parents did move faster than we thought. Liam stands in front of the television, his bag dangling from his fingertips and the remote control in the other hand. Whitney’s picture is on the screen.

  “Gotta go,” I say to her. “Holy shit, Liam.”

  “They don’t waste time.” He turns up the volume as the anchor appears.

  “…Whitney Travers, age twenty, has been reported missing by her parents. They say police have been slow to respond, even with the other girls recently discovered deceased. We’re expecting an official Amber Alert to be issued later today.

  “Whitney is the fourth girl to go missing in the Boston area. Jasmine Miller, a college student who went missing back in August, has not been found. Investigators are not confirming whether Miller or Travers are related to Amber Huck’s and Natalie Eldridge’s deaths.”

  The screen changes to show all four girls in a row.

  “They can’t lump Whitney in with them,” I say. “She—she’s not even…”

  “News likes to sensationalize things like this.” He pauses the television on their photos.

  Something about them…

  I step closer, my eyes narrowing. “I haven’t seen them all lined up together.”

  “Sky.”

  “It’s bugging me,” I continue. “Why?”

  “Skylar.”

  I glance over my shoulder. “What?”

  “They…” Liam shakes his head. “They’re all… similar.”

  I analyze them again. Blonde, pretty. Aside from Amber, they were popular girls. The well-liked ones.

  Although not without their secrets. Whitney and the video. Amber and her abusive boyfriend. Dig deep enough and we’d find what Natalie and Jasmine were hiding.

  “We should go,” he says quietly. He shuts off the TV and holds out his hand. “Come on.”

  I take his hand and let him lead. Out the door, which he locks three different ways, down the stairs, to the curb. Theo leans against a sleek, canary-yellow car. I’ve never seen this one before, but it looks expensive. And fast.

  He tosses Liam the keys. “If you hurt her, I’ll murder you.”

  Liam scoffs. “I’m the best driver.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about.” Theo glares at him. “Do not, under any circumstances, give those keys to… anyone.”

  “Trust me, I don’t want to drive it,” I cut in. “I think you’re safe.”

  He snorts. “Not worried about you, either, Buckley.”

  Liam rolls his eyes. “She’s in college.”

  Who?

  “She’s tricky.” Theo shrugs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I glance around. I never really got along with Theo. His dark and angry vibes scare me. He’s like Liam, multiplied by money and privilege. He was always a loner in high school, preferring to go to events by himself. He never had a girlfriend.

  We all drooled over him from afar.

  Now, he folds his arms over his chest and steps back.

  Liam opens the trunk and tosses his bag in, then comes and gently extracts mine from my grip. He gestures for me to get in and shakes Theo’s hand.

  The interior is black leather with yellow accents. It’s so clean, it can pass as brand-new off the sale lot.

  Liam snickers. “This car is ostentatious.”

  “We’ll be right at home in Stone Ridge with it,” I joke.

  He starts the engine and lifts his hand to Theo… and then we’re off.

  We roar through the streets of Boston. Liam smirks the entire time, and I hold on for dear life. We screech past Ashburn College toward the highway.

  “You’re having fun,” I manage.

  “Definitely. Theo’s been into cars forever. Mine was always breaking down, so I ended up riding with him a lot.”

  “And it’s a sore subject for him?”

  He chuckles. “He’s particular. And there’s a girl—”

  “There’s always a girl,” I interject.

  He glances at me, nodding. “Well, this particular one knows how to push every single one of his buttons.”

  “Sounds like a fun girl.” I can only imagine who it would be from school—assuming she went to Emery-Rose Elite and not one of the other neighboring schools.

  “You never met Amelie’s sister?” He spares me another glance, this one shocked. “She’s your age.”

  It takes me a second to pull her name to the front of my mind. “Lucy?”

  Liam’s smile is wry. “Lucille and Theodore. Cute, right?”

  I snort.

  “I can’t decide whether he wants to kill her or fuck her,” he adds. “Maybe both.”

  “Wow.”

  “Life as a Page girl is never boring. Amelie was apparently shipped off to Italy with her new husband. It’s been a bit hush-hush, but Theo said the Pages are involved with the New York Mafia families.”

  I rotate toward him, gaping. “Mafia? In Rose Hill?”

  “No, in the city. I don’t know the full story, but Theo was pretty adamant about Lucy’s, ah, innocence.” He merges onto the highway and hits the gas. At this rate, we’ll be home in an hour.

  I contemplate the idea of Amelie being married. Having a husband. We’re only a few years out of high school—I’m barely twenty, she and Liam are twenty-one. How old is this husband of hers? Fifty? Was it about the money?

  My imagination will run away from me if I don’t get answers, but Liam probably isn’t the person to ask. Maybe her sister…

  And nothing would make me happier than encouraging the button-pushing of Theo Alistair.

  That’s if Lucy is even in Rose Hill—or Stone Ridge, as the case may be. The two towns are side by side on a map, but miles of farmland and woods separate the two. It was regularly a twenty-minute drive to get to school every morning.

  If we weren’t speeding.

  “Mom’s going to freak out,” I mumble. “She hasn’t called me back, so I don’t think she’s seen the news.”

  Liam sighs. “Maybe. We’ll deal with it. It isn’t like we aren’t safe in Boston—my apartment is well secured. It’s just a matter of the police figuring out—”

  My phone’s shrill ring silences him.

  A Boston number.

  I swallow. Unexpected unease flutters up my throat. “Hello?”

  “Is this Skylar Buckley?” a female voice says.

  Liam quiets the radio, and I put the call
on speaker.

  “This is,” I say. “Who’s calling?”

  “Ms. Buckley, this is Detective McAdams. I’m calling to inform you that your roommate, Whitney Travers, has been reported missing.”

  “I saw the news.” I glance at Liam. “She moved back in with her parents, and I moved out of that apartment. I haven’t seen her since Monday morning.”

  Liam shakes his head, motioning for me to get off the phone.

  I understand: the last time the police fished around one of his friends, they spent a night in jail. Of course, that was Detective Masters, and he was sure Caleb had kidnapped Margo… An assumption that was later proven false.

  Ridiculous, really.

  “Her parents filed the report, and they did mention you had moved out.”

  Liam is still shaking his head.

  “Okay…” I say.

  “Can you come down to the station? We have a few questions.”

  Liam hits the gas harder.

  I wince. “Um, no, sorry. We’re headed home for the week. We felt it was safer to get out of the city since classes were cancelled.”

  “Ms. Buckley—”

  “You can contact my lawyer,” I say softly. “I don’t really know what else to say.”

  I hang up on her.

  Two girls dead. One caught in limbo—Jasmine is probably gone, but her body hasn’t been found—and one missing.

  A serial killer. What else could it be?

  I’m glad we’re going home, if only until the end of the week. I settle back in the seat and close my eyes.

  29

  Liam

  There are a lot of songs that reference angels. Angels falling, angels crying. Beautiful angels and sad ones. Then there are the tortured souls who try to save them. Who die trying.

  In my bones, I know that will be me—the fool who tries to save my angel.

  The girls’ photos lined up in a row is burned into the back of my eyelids. I see them every time my attention wanders.

  Like now.

  Sky is asleep next to me, her gray hair covering half her face. She’s the sort of beautiful people write songs about, too. Sad songs. Love songs.

  We’ve been driving in silence for an hour, and I can’t stop picturing Skylar’s senior photo from high school in the lineup.

  Jasmine. Amber. Natalie. Whitney. Sky.

  All beautiful, thin, popular, blonde. If Sky and I didn’t experience the viral video, she would still be the same as them. Fate did her a service, changing her ever so slightly as to knock her off the path of the monster hunting them.

  I shiver and twist on the heat. My chill has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the thought of Sky missing.

  Again.

  I kept her mother’s secret for seven years. Hid the point of our connection from Sky like it was easy. Forced her to stay away from me.

  The then Mrs. Buckley was ruthless in her endeavor to keep her darling daughter safe.

  And not just physically.

  Once it became apparent that Sky’s mind had blocked out the event and surrounding weeks, her mother made it clear that it was in everyone’s best interest to keep it that way.

  Erased.

  I still remember the day she approached me. I was just returning from a run before school and she met me at the end of my driveway, well away from the houses. Our driveways started together then twisted away from each other. Our homes had almost fifty yards between them.

  “Mrs. Buckley,” I greeted her, slowing to a walk. “You’re out early.”

  “Sky’s nightmares have stopped,” she said. “Her memory of what happened is gone.”

  I remember nodding slowly, although I didn’t know why she was saying this to me. “Mom told me.”

  She sighed. “Liam, I need you to stay away from Skylar.”

  “What? Why?”

  She stepped closer. “Do you know who she cries out for when she wakes up? It isn’t me or her father. It’s you. She sees you as the hero of her story, and I’m afraid that if she keeps seeing you that way, she’ll begin to see the rest of the picture.”

  I flinched. “She should know.”

  “She should have a chance to be happy,” she replied. “I’m sorry, Liam. I just need to protect my baby.”

  In the end, I did as she’d asked: I stayed away. I held myself back, traded barbs with her. Did whatever I had to do to make sure she didn’t want to be around me.

  And I’m now regretting all of it.

  “Are we almost there?” Sky asks, twisting halfway toward me. “The sun feels nice.”

  “We should be there soon,” I say. “Are you hungry?”

  She shakes her head. “No. But I was dreaming…”

  I straighten a little. “Of what?”

  To my delight, her cheeks pinken. “Nothing.”

  “Tell me,” I prod. “I won’t laugh.”

  “No, I’m sure you won’t,” she mutters.

  It’s got me intrigued, but my mind goes the dirty route. Was she having a sex dream? We came close last night before I ruined it. And then she climbed into bed with me in the middle of the night, wordlessly lying down beside me. Who would’ve thought she was sleepwalking and not making a conscious decision?

  If she says sex dream, I’m pulling this car over and making that dream a reality.

  I almost groan out loud. She’s a virgin—she thinks she’s a virgin, anyway. Who am I to say if she is or isn’t? I don’t know anything. But that just means it has to be special, or at least… not in the car on the side of the road.

  “I was running through the woods,” she says.

  I freeze.

  “And then you came out of nowhere and tackled me. You, ah, kissed me. And then I woke up.”

  Things click into place, then. Like the edge of a puzzle now complete, and all that’s left is to fill in the center. She used to have nightmares, but now she dreams of kissing me. I used to have nightmares, too. Nightmares where I’d find her bloody and bruised, left for dead on the side of the road. Now, my dreams have her face transposed over Amber Huck’s on the news.

  I shove that thought away.

  She’s not going to get hurt.

  “That’s no fun,” I respond. “Your subconscious skipped the best part.”

  “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

  “The orgasm. Dream-me should’ve taken care of you before you woke up.”

  “I’ll make sure to pass along the message to the dream-you,” she says.

  I nod. “Thank you.”

  We’re coming up on the exit for Stone Ridge. I flick on the blinker and pass a car, then slide over. In a matter of moments, we’re off the highway and slipping through the streets of our hometown.

  It was a weird adjustment to go from Rose Hill to Stone Ridge. It was only by a stroke of luck—and my contribution to the football and lacrosse teams—that they gave me a scholarship once our family lost most of our money. It wasn’t a slow fall from grace, either. We jumped out of a plane and free fell without parachutes.

  Still, we traded our nice home for a small, cozy one. Snobby neighbors for the Buckleys. That in itself made it okay in my eyes.

  “Ready?” I ask her.

  She laughs and shakes her head. “Not at all. Will you come in with me?”

  “Sure. Someone’s got to make sure your mom hasn’t put a lock on the outside of your door.”

  She flinches, and I pause. I hit a nerve?

  “You okay?”

  “No, that was…” She tilts her head. “I don’t know.”

  I reach over and take her hand. “It’s all right. Whatever you’re feeling.”

  She nods and squeezes my fingers. “Thank you.”

  If her memories come back, we can deal with it. I lost her once—forced away by her mother. It took me too damn long to realize that was the biggest mistake of my life.

  And I will not let anyone come between us again.

  30

  Sky

&nb
sp; Liam parks the yellow car off to the side of his driveway, leaving room for his parents’ cars. We made good time, and I’d guess they’re both at work. He grabs my bag, and we cross the sloping lawn to my house.

  Up the porch steps.

  I have the urge to knock, so I do, banging twice before opening the door.

  “Mom?” I call.

  It’s only been a few months, but it feels like a decade away. Whitney and I moved into the apartment at the beginning of September, on one of the busiest days of the year for Boston traffic. Since then, there hasn’t been a reason to go home.

  “You guys made great time,” Mom says, hurrying around the corner. “How fast did he—ah, Liam. How fast did you drive?”

  He smiles. “Fast enough to beat the traffic.”

  She nods once and ushers us in. We follow her to the back of the house, toward the kitchen.

  “I’m surprised you decided to come back. What happened?”

  I bite my lip. “Um, well…”

  She squints at me. “Do you need to see Dr. Penn?”

  “What?” I rear back. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “I’m just trying to act in your best interest, honey. And if the stress of Natalie’s death is affecting you, I completely understand. The best thing to do is prevent more things from stressing you out and flaring up your CPTSD.”

  I roll my eyes. “I didn’t come back because of that, or because I’m freaking out. I came because Liam and I decided we needed a break from the city. You said it yourself that we hadn’t been home in forever.” Lie, lie, lie.

  I mean, yes, there’s some truth in it. But the majority, not so much.

  Mom scrutinizes me. I wish I could say I had a brilliant poker face, but she is usually able to suss out my true intentions.

  I must pass her test, though, because she smiles. “Okay. Well, I’m just happy to have you back. I’ve been cleaning out your room, actually, and was going to have you go through what you want to keep over Thanksgiving. But if you’re here for a few days, then maybe now is better.”

  “A walk down memory lane,” Liam says lightly.

  Mom’s eyes flash. “A nice walk.”