“I don’t remember thinking that when I woke up.”
It’s a shame you’re not wearing thermal underwear.
“It’s a shame Marc Jacobs doesn’t make thermal underwear,” I joke. “The only thing I have on under my shirt is a bra and your Granite necklace.”
Our heads both jerk up at the same time. I didn’t mean to tell him that and I’m guessing by his surprised expression that he wasn’t expecting to hear it.
Unnerved by his wide eyes, I snap, “What? You gave it to me to wear, didn’t you?”
He shakes his head and writes, Do you have a jacket? What do you have with you?
“I’m not sure . . .” I sigh and then notice the bag at my feet. “Wait a sec.” I grab the strap. “I have my bag with me.”
What’s in it? Your phone?
I scramble through it, pulling out a jacket, lipstick, a makeup kit, nail polish, my wallet, and Dad’s American Express. I rummage around each corner of the bag, but come up empty.
“No phone.”
A jacket?
“Yes.”
Next time you go back, cover yourself. Make sure you stay warm and try to get a better idea of your injuries. The more I know, the more I can help you.
“Okay.”
We’re going to find you. Just hang in there.
I swallow the lump in my throat, wanting so badly to believe him. But after everything that’s happened today, I don’t know who—or what—to believe. All I know for sure is this: The people who I thought cared about me are treating my disappearance like a joke. And the one person who should hate me is trying to save my life, whether I deserve his help or not.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WEDNESDAY, 11:55 AM
When physics ends, I stick close to Dale. It’s lunchtime and the hallways are flooded as students jostle their way to the cafeteria, or whatever secret nook they’ve carved out for themselves. Seniors get to go off campus and my friends and I have been counting the days until we can drive Amber’s car to the mall.
Dale flies down the hallway and I have to jump around people to keep up with him. “Why do you always walk so fast?”
He glances down in the direction of my voice, not slowing his pace. “I need to talk to your friends.”
“My friends?”
“Yeah, didn’t you say you went to the party with Amber?” Dale steps out of the freshman biology teacher’s way. She gives him a bemused look, clearly wondering if he’s talking to himself. Dale smiles brightly in return, the nonverbal equivalent of nothing to see here!
Hugging my bag to my side, I jog alongside him. “I didn’t leave with her, apparently.”
“Well, maybe she knows who you did leave with,” he points out. “Where do you guys usually eat?”
“Recently, we’ve been camping out in the drama club room,” I answer. It has a big carpet and looks out over a span of grass where the soccer guys kick the ball around after they eat.
We turn down the arts wing and spot Amber and Penny heading into the drama room. Dale follows them inside, waiting until they dump their bags on the padded floor before approaching them.
Amber scrunches up her nose. “What do you want?”
“Hey, girls.” He smiles at Penny, who’s always more approachable. “I was just wondering if you’d heard from Nicole today.”
Penny’s dark eyes cut to Amber, who shrugs. With a soft sigh, Penny gives Dale a fake smile. “I’m really sorry, but she’s kind of with Trent. I don’t think she’s into you.”
“I’m not into her,” Dale replies coolly. “I’m just asking where she is.”
Amber meets his pointed look head on. “We don’t know.”
Students amble past the room, glancing in with open curiosity. Dale shuts the door and turns back to Amber.
“You’re her best friends. Aren’t BFFs supposed to know where each other are at all times?” he says.
“That tone is not helping you right now,” I warn.
He flicks his fingers over his shoulder as if trying to shoo a fly away, and trains his gaze on Amber. “Are you sure you haven’t missed a call from her?”
Her eyebrow arches and she crosses her arms. I notice that she’s wearing the gold bracelet I got her for her sixteenth birthday. “I’m sure.”
“So, why aren’t you guys more worried?”
Amber’s smile is tight, the hard glint in her eyes downright intimidating. “Look, Nicole is an independent girl. She flits off whenever she wants to and she never thinks about anybody but herself. I don’t know where she is right now and frankly, I don’t care.”
Her words are a punch in the gut. Hurt and anger course through me, and I wonder why I can feel things so deeply when I’m not even connected to my body.
“That’s pretty harsh,” Dale replies, his eyes narrowing.
Amber sneers. “Oh, please, what do you know about friendship, Scarface? You don’t even have any friends.”
Dale pales, the muscle in his jaw goes taut as he glares at Amber.
“I just want to make sure she’s safe, that’s all. Did either of you see who she left with last night?” His brown gaze is steady and an overwhelming sense of gratitude pulses through me. He’s taking this abuse and dealing with my friends for me—the person who coined that ridiculous nickname in the first place.
“Look, I’m sure she’s fine,” Amber says impatiently, sitting down on the carpet and pulling a container of carrots out of her bag. “When I left there were still a bunch of people there. She probably caught a ride with someone, so don’t worry about it. Besides, it’s really none of your business.”
Penny steps closer to Dale. “We have to eat and study for our math test, so, bye now.” A look of contempt plays on her lips.
“Let’s just go,” I tell Dale, simmering. “They don’t know anything, and I can’t listen to this anymore.”
Dale shoots the girls one last look as he walks out the door.
“I can’t believe they just treated you that way,” I explode once we’re in the hall.
“It doesn’t matter.” He slides his hands into his pockets with a shrug. “I’m just annoyed it’s a dead end. I was really hoping they’d know who you left with.”
“But they were really rude to you,” I say, astonished at his calm.
Dale pauses in the now empty corridor, turning my way. “Nicole, you’ve treated me like that before, too. Worse, actually, because at least they’re consistent. You—you’d talk to me when no one was around, then pretend I didn’t even exist when you were with your friends.”
“Well, maybe if you’d tried a little harder to fit in,” I said, my defenses rising even as his words rang true. “This is high school. Appearances matter.”
He throws his hands in the air. “Look, I know who I am, and if a couple of bitchy girls don’t like it, I don’t give a shit.”
“You’re lying.” I shake my head. “How can you not care what people think of you? How can you not care about having friends?”
“I have friends. I have Adam and Lisa and Jake . . . and . . . and Raelyn.”
“Who’s Raelyn?” I cross my arms.
“My sister. She now lives with her husband and kids.” Dale runs his fingers down the mangled skin on his cheek. After a pause, he adds, “No offense, but I think you’re the one who may need to reevaluate your friendships. If you think those girls care about you, you’re either naive or shallower than I thought.” He turns away and heads down the hall.
His words are a slap in the face. Because he’s right. About everything.
With a frown I hurry after him.
“Where are you going? Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask.
He stops outside one of the computer labs and turns the handle.
“I have more important things to do than eat.” He pushes the door with his should
er and holds it open long enough for me to get through.
The suite is empty, the cream-colored plastic chairs tucked neatly beneath a long wooden table. The only noise is the faint static buzz of technology. Dale lets the door go and walks down the first row of computers to a station at the end.
“Are you allowed in here?”
Pulling out a chair, Dale plops into it, kicking out the one beside him with the edge of his shoe.
“We’re fine, Nicky. Mr. Attley doesn’t mind seniors in here at lunchtime.”
“It’s Nicole.”
“What?” He glances up from the keyboard.
“My name’s Nicole,” I repeat.
“I know.” The screen comes to life with a flick of the mouse. “I just like Nicky better.”
“Well, I like Nicole and it’s my name, so . . .”
He lets out a soft chuckle as he opens up a Web browser. “Whatever you say, Nicole.”
I perch on the seat beside him. “What are you looking for?”
“I’m trying to figure out where you might be.”
After typing Big Bear Lake, CA into Google Maps, Dale zooms out until we are looking at a map of the entire area, including San Bernadino National Forest.
“So Matt lives here, right?” Dale points to an expansive lakefront area. He glances in my direction, his face inches from mine. I’ve never seen his scar this close before. The skin is smooth but raised—a red, raw reminder of whatever pain he must have suffered.
“Nicole, does Matt live there?” Dale taps the screen.
I nod, and then grimace. “Yes. Sorry, I keep forgetting you can’t see me.”
“Okay, so we don’t know what happened to you at that party, but what can we assume?”
I shrug. “That I left with someone?”
“Are you sure?” Dale asks. “Maybe you got in a fight and stormed out. Were you drunk?”
“Why would you assume that?” Shame makes me snap out the words.
He holds up his hands, as if in surrender. “I’m not assuming it. I’m just asking if you were.”
I grind my teeth. “I was probably drunk. I’m lying next to my own puke in the forest.”
Dale’s sharp nose wrinkles.
“Don’t judge me, okay?”
“I’m not,” Dale says, a little too quickly to be believable, and leans toward the screen. “I didn’t say anything.”
I roll my eyes. “Your face is saying something and I don’t appreciate it.”
“Sorry.” His voice is earnest.
“Okay, so what are you thinking?” I ask. “Stupid drunk girl gets pissed off and decides to stumble her way home? It’s over ten miles from Matt’s place to mine.”
He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck and looking mildly shamefaced. “You’re right, it seems unlikely, even if you were drunk. But somehow you ended up in an isolated area.”
I nibble the edge of my lip. “Why do you think that?”
Dale switches the map to satellite view. “If you look at Matt’s house, it’s down a long driveway with plenty of space around it, but there are no steep embankments. I’m guessing you’re somewhere around here, maybe?” His finger glides over the screen, pointing at the outskirts of the national forest.
He zooms in closer and inspects the different routes leading away from Matt’s house. “You know, we could start there this afternoon. Let’s assume you’re within fifteen miles of Matt’s house. We could drive around and see if any of the settings stir some memories.”
I frown at the screen. “If I’m that far out, I must have gotten a ride with someone.”
“Yeah, probably.” Dale rubs his lower lip, his eyebrows bunching together.
“So, why didn’t they take me home? What the hell was I doing out on some isolated forest road?”
Dale answers with a pained look. I avert my gaze, tugging at my black skirt and running my finger along the hem. This tiny piece of fabric cost Dad over four hundred dollars and now it’s ruined.
“Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?” he asks.
“No.” I swallow the lump in my throat and look back at the screen. San Bernardino National Forest is huge. With so little to go by, this hunt could take months . . . and I don’t have that long. For the first time, I’m realizing just how high the odds are stacked against me.
“A fifteen-mile radius is pretty big, and we don’t even know if I’m there,” I say despondently.
Dale runs his fingers through his hair. “A human can survive for around four days without water. We may have a little time.” Grabbing the mouse, he opens up a new screen and does a search on the weather. “Sunny all this week. You’ve got a chance.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But it’ll be cold at night. And I’m bleeding. I might have a concussion. I’ve never been in this much pain in my entire life.”
Dale rolls his chair back and turns to face me. He’s looking at me so intently that I almost think he can see the faint outlines of my ghostly form. I wave a hand in front of him, but he doesn’t register the motion. After a minute, his expression clears. He powers down the computer and grabs his bag.
“Where are we going now?” I ask, following him out into the hallway.
“To the sheriff’s department,” he says grimly. “If we’re going to find you, we’re going to need a search party.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
WEDNESDAY, 12:30 PM
The police station buzzes with activity—low murmuring conversations, the shuffling of papers, and the phone trilling on a back desk. Dale lumbers beside me, his chin held high in spite of his blaring scar. He obviously likes the police station as much as I do. Not that I’ve ever been arrested or anything, but my friends and I constantly flirt with the lines of the law. In some ways, it’s only a matter of time.
It isn’t until Dale steps up to the shiny brown counter and the round-faced receptionist raises her head that I remember I’m invisible. My tight shoulders loosen for a second, until I notice the corkboard on the wall behind the woman. It’s covered with mug shots of petty criminals, alert posters for America’s most wanted . . . and missing persons. One of a young girl with tousled black hair and big dark eyes catches my attention. A shudder runs down my spine as I wonder how long it will take for my photo to be added to the collection.
My eyes snap back to Dale as he gives the receptionist a smile.
“Afternoon.” His voice is a little croaky. What does he have to worry about? The guy is so squeaky clean you can practically see your reflection in the whites of his teeth. I can’t understand why he’s nervous.
“How can I help you?” The receptionist blinks, tipping her head and doing a useless job at hiding the fact she is a little stunned by Dale’s scar.
I scowl at her, annoyed she can’t be more subtle. I glance at Dale’s stoic expression, a flash of affection skittering through me. He wears his past like a freaking champion.
Clearing his throat, he taps his fingers on the counter. “I need to report a missing person, please.”
“Oh.” The receptionist sits up straighter, glancing over her shoulder. “Deputy Peck,” she calls behind her.
The large man glances up and gestures at the phone pressed to his ear. She gives him a smile and jerks her head in Dale’s direction. Raising his pointer finger, he indicates one minute before focusing back on the call.
“He’ll be with you—”
“That’s okay, Helen, I can look into this.” I flinch at the deep voice of the man walking into the room and gaze up at Sheriff Hutton.
He’s a tall, lean man with an oblong face and a deep chin dimple. His cheeks are a little sunken in, giving him this severe look, which I guess makes him a perfect fit for town sheriff. I’ve always been afraid of him—even when I was a kid and I’d go over to play with Adam. Mrs. Hutton would sometimes in
vite me to stay for dinner, but I’d always make up an excuse to get home before the sheriff returned from work. My place was a warm oasis compared to the cold, quiet vibes of the Hutton residence. It makes me sad to think how much things have changed.
The sheriff gazes down at Dale with that calm, unwavering expression. The one that always makes me feel naked.
Dale stands tall against the man’s scrutiny.
“Afternoon, Mr. Finnigan. Why aren’t you in school?”
“Lunch break, sir.” Dale swallows.
The sheriff’s pale eyebrows arch as he checks his watch. His broad lips turn into a thoughtful frown. “Not for much longer. You’re not thinking of taking the afternoon off, are you?”
“Like you’d admit that when you’re standing in the middle of a police station,” I mutter.
Dale ignores me, and instead gives the sheriff a tight smile.
“No, sir. I’m heading back to school right after I report a missing person.”
The sheriff crosses his long arms, looking concerned as he towers behind his intrigued receptionist. “And who might that be?”
“Nicole Tepper. No one’s seen her this morning. She hasn’t turned up at school. I’m worried something’s happened to her.”
“Why are you so worried?” His utility belt jingles as he hitches up his pants and plants his hands on his hips. A skeptical smile rests on his lips as he quietly chuckles. “We’re talking about Nicole Tepper here. She’s probably sleeping off a hangover at home.”
My skin grows hot with shame. Does everyone really think I’m such a lost cause?
Dale’s lips pinch into a line while he shakes his head. “She’s not at home. Penny tweeted this morning saying her mother thinks she’s missing.”
The sheriff’s smile disappears. His dark blue eyes narrow and his broad forehead crinkles as he pulls a notepad out of his beige shirt pocket. Snatching a pen off the desk, he clicks it on and starts writing.
A phone rings, making the receptionist in front of us jump. She lets out a nervous laugh and reaches for the receiver. “Big Bear Sheriff’s Department. How can I help you?”
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