The pain in my head becomes unbearable. “Dale,” I choke out his name, willing it to hold me in place.
“Nicky, just stay calm, it’s going to be okay.” But his voice quakes.
I open my eyes, trying to make out his blurry features. I can’t hide my fears any longer. “What if I don’t come back again?”
The room spins and rushes toward me. I scream, unable to hold it in. The last thing I hear is Dale calling out my name, but it’s lost as the world turns black.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THURSDAY, 11:19 PM
I spin into a mindless fog. The only thing that draws me back to earth is that soft whistle—lazy, ambling tune that feels out of place in my chaos. I open my eyes. My terror shifts to confusion as the whistling becomes clear once again.
I hold my breath and freeze. Someone’s up there again.
I shift my eyes in the direction of the sound. It is dark, but tonight two pinpricks of yellow cut through the forest: flashlights. The whistle resumes, louder this time, but it doesn’t sound human anymore. Wait a second . . . it’s a ringtone.
“Are you just going to ignore it?” The faint words float down to me through the quiet night air.
“Yes,” a harsh male voice barks back.
“But what if it’s . . .”
“I’m not answering!”
I try to recognize the voices, but they are muffled. It sounds like two men. I strain to make out the rest of the conversation.
“I’m sorry . . .”
“Stop apologizing.” The man’s yell cuts through the air and fear spikes through me at his harsh tone. “Let’s just clean up this mess and put it behind us. Now where do you think you hit her?”
My heart accelerates as the words register.
“Over there, see the railing.”
His words spark in my brain. I remember my body tumbling, yellow circles flashing in front of me—two of them, next to each other.
Bright circles swerving toward me.
I open my eyes.
Headlights.
I watch them swerve in my mind’s eye, over the road, then straight toward me. I gasp.
And just like that, I remember everything.
My boots tap sharply on the hard road, the loose gravel along the edge jumps away from me as if sensing my wrath.
I can’t get over what an asshole Trent was. I cross my arms and shiver, trying to forget the feel of his hands on my thigh, the terse bite of his voice when he yelled at me . . . and the disappearing red lights as he drove away, leaving me lost in the darkness.
There are no streetlights hindering the brilliant glow of stars in the night sky. It’s probably around midnight, but I can’t see my watch face in the dim light; I can barely see two steps in front of me.
A cool wind whistles through my clothing and I wish, yet again, that I hadn’t chosen to wear a sleeveless shirt with a plunging V-neck. Maybe Trent was right. Maybe I should have just given in and done it with him. I have so many times before.
I could stop to put my jacket on, but I don’t want to—the frigid air feels punishing, a reminder that this is my fault, and a part of me likes it.
My lower lip wobbles as a meltdown sets in. I struggle to hold it together. I have no idea where I am or how long it will take me to walk home . . . I don’t even know which direction home is.
The beers I drank swirl in my stomach.
I reach into my bag and fish around for my phone, but come up empty-handed. And then I remember . . . I took it out in the car to text Amber. But then Trent started kissing me and in his usual sly way, slipped the phone from my hands so he’d have my full attention.
It looks like I won’t be calling anyone. I grit my teeth and keep walking, picking up my pace.
The distant sound of an engine distracts me. The faint glow of headlights appears behind me and I smile. Trent feels guilty and is back to apologize. I plan on giving him hell for it.
I spin and stick out my thumb like a hitchhiker, then change my mind and raise my middle finger instead. Sure, I run the risk of him shooting straight past me, but Trent deserves to grovel just a little. He can’t get away with treating me like his little plaything, then ditching me when I don’t capitulate.
My smirk drops away when the car crests the hill and I realize the approaching vehicle isn’t Trent’s car. The headlights are sitting too close to the road. Trent drives a Jeep Cherokee and this looks more like a sports car. I drop my hand, hiding my rude gesture, and paste on a sweet smile. Maybe the driver will take pity on me and offer me a ride.
As the car descends toward me, I become increasingly aware of the fact that it is swerving erratically across the road. A sudden fear ripples up my spine. Can he not see me?
“Hey!” I wave my arms to try and get him to slow down, but he keeps moving forward, oblivious to my helpless plight. The car drifts into the other lane before jerking back in my direction.
I gasp and move to the very edge of the road. Gravel tumbles down the steep embankment behind me as my legs hit the guardrail. The car swerves closer.
I turn to make an escape, but it is too late.
The headlights illuminate my body for a second before pain sears through me. I scream as my body is thrown over the guardrail.
It’s like being in a tumble dryer as I roll down the hill, pinecones and needles piercing my skin. I crash into a tree trunk and my descent comes to an abrupt stop. A loud crack rings like a gunshot inside my head, rattling my brain. I roll away from the tree with a groan. As I try to reach for my temple, scorching pain radiates up my arm, a hot knife of agony that steals the air from my lungs. I scream and squeeze my eyes shut. My stomach jerks and I feel its contents shifting north. I cover my mouth, but it’s no use. Every retch hurts my convulsing body. I breathe deep and lurch for the ground one last time. I lay my head back, an aching thump echoing inside my skull. Squinting up at the fuzzy blackness, I try to make out the haunting shadows above me. I whimper softly as everything tumbles forward, and I feel as though the world is falling on top of me.
“Do you see anything?” a voice says, and my brain finally rips free from the clutches of my memory. My breath comes hard and fast as I process the images—the swerving car, the slam of metal careening into my body, the tumble down the hill.
A drunk driver hit me, and left me here to die. But now he’s back. I suck in a lungful of air and try to steady my erratic pulse.
My eyes dart up the hill as the voices come into focus.
“Not yet. But she’s here. There’s no way she’s still alive.” The harsher voice makes my skin crawl.
“Please don’t say that.”
I lick my cracked lips, my tongue feeling swollen and sluggish.
“You better hope she isn’t. Do you have any idea the repercussions your little stunt could have on the entire family?”
The statement jolts me.
“Your life is over if this gets out. Do you understand?” The deep voice is gravelly, yet strained with desperation. “No graduation, no scholarships—nothing. Not to mention how bad it will make me look.”
“I . . .”
“You’ll be doing jail time. You wouldn’t last a day in prison.” He spits out the words and then I hear a dry twig snap. “I won’t let that happen to you.”
“What are you saying?” The other guy sounds just as scared as I feel.
There’s a long pause, filling the night air with ominous dread. My heart thunders as I wait for the reply.
“We have to find her and . . . and bury her . . . dead or alive.”
My heart stops for second, the words striking me like a battering ram.
Panicky breaths force their way through my lips in rapid succession. I have to fight to keep my body still. I reel my lucid mind in and beg myself to stay silent.
Terror swirls through my bra
in. They’re going to kill me. They may be hesitant about doing it, but that won’t stop them. There’s obviously too much at stake. Whoever those men are up the hill, they’ve come to finish the job.
A beam of light grazes the ground to my right, and my breath catches. I scan the forest floor for some kind of weapon, but there is nothing but dried sticks and rotting leaves. My fingers are clumsy and stiff, and the pain in my body is so excruciating that I don’t dare move. If they spot me, it’s all over.
The light bounces around for another a minute, then finally, it snaps off.
“This is impossible,” one voice huffs. “We’re not going to be able to search this whole area by flashlight!”
A frustrated sigh follows. “It’s safer this way. We can’t risk being seen in broad daylight. People will ask questions.”
“They’re already asking questions. Everyone’s talking about this!”
A loud curse echoes through the air. “We’ll come back in the morning, have a proper hunt, and finish this.” The voice drops low and menacing. “And God help me if you ever do something this stupid again. You’re going to wish you’d never been born.”
Two doors slam and a car engine fires up. I have to wait an eternity for them to drive away. My heart slowly returns to its normal thud, but a low-level panic still echoes through me. Come morning, I am a dead girl.
“Dale,” I whisper into the crisp night air. “What do I do?”
I can feel myself growing weak. The limbs that were throbbing yesterday are starting to go numb. I need water. My sluggish eyes struggle to stay open.
“Dale. I can’t let them do this to me. My parents won’t survive this,” I croak. “What do I do?”
A tear slides down my cheek, but I don’t have the energy to brush it away.
“I need you to find me.” My head lolls to the side. “Find me. Please find me.”
I lie there for what feels like hours, until my breath is no more than a shallow death rattle and I can barely feel my limbs. I nearly crumple with relief when the world begins to spin and the darkness takes me once more.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FRIDAY, 6:27 AM
I come to on Dale’s bed, the green cover wrinkled beneath me. The room is empty, his bag gone.
“No.”
I jump off the bed and rush into the hall. I can hear his mother humming to herself in the kitchen downstairs. A chair squeaks against the tile floor.
“Okay, Mom. I’m off to school.” Dale’s voice is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard and I stumble down the stairs toward it.
“That’s a little early, isn’t it?”
Dale’s lie comes quickly. “I didn’t get through all my homework last night and I want to finish it off in the library before first period.”
“Don’t forget your lunch,” she calls.
“Thanks, Mom. Got it.”
Racing down the rest of the stairs, I follow the sound of his voice and nearly collide with him.
“Dale.” I reach for him.
He tumbles backward and lands on his book bag, rattling the side cabinet against the wall. There are dark bags under his worried eyes.
“Sweetie?” His mother comes out of the kitchen, wrapped in a pale pink robe, looking concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he says as he gets to his feet and brushes off his jeans. “I just slipped.”
Mrs. Finnigan studies him “You get smacked in the face with a ball in PE yesterday and now you’re tripping on your way out the door? Are you sure you’re all right?”
Dale nods sheepishly. “Totally fine, Mom. I swear.”
He leans down so his mother can peck his cheek.
“Love you,” he murmurs. The soft words make my eyes smart. I sniff and look away, but don’t miss the glowing pride and affection in Mrs. Finnigan’s eyes.
She shuffles past him and up the stairs. Dale waits until the bathroom door clicks and we can hear the shower running.
“You had me worried sick.” His deep brown gaze drinks me in. “I was pacing my room half the night. You look—” Dale cuts off.
“What?” I scrub my cheeks.
He swallows. “You’re a lot easier to see than you were yesterday.”
I look at the burgundy carpet, not wanting to think about what that might mean. I exhale loudly, then fling my arms in the air. “They’re trying to find me, Dale. They’re going to look for me today and bury my body so no one will ever know the truth.” My voice pitches high on the last few words. Saying it aloud somehow makes it more real and ominous. I cover my mouth and stare at Dale’s confused expression.
“Nicole,” he says softly. “Slow down. I don’t know what you’re talking about. You need to start from the beginning. What happened when you disappeared last night?”
I close my eyes and suck in a shaky breath. “I went back to my body.”
His face drains of color, his angular features looking that much sharper as he swallows. “How are you doing?”
“We’re running out of time. And that’s not all. I remember everything.”
He reaches for me, his hand hovering near my shoulder, and leans forward. “You do? What happened?”
“I was hit by a car,” I say, the memory of the headlights fresh and terrifying. “It slammed into me and I flew over the barrier.”
“You were hit by a car and they just drove off and left you?” Dale’s brows knit, his harsh tone belying his outrage.
I nod. “It was swerving all over the road. I think the driver was drunk.”
Dale’s head snaps toward me. “Did you recognize the car? Was it Trent?”
“Trent drives a Jeep. These lights were low to the ground, so it couldn’t have been him.”
Dale gives a sharp nod. “So a sports car or sedan or something.”
I rub my forehead. “Whoever did it came back last night. Two guys this time, with flashlights.”
“Did you call out to them?”
“Of course not!” My face bunches. “They were looking for me, to bury me.”
Dale’s eyes swirl with a dark agony and rage.
“One of them pointed out where he’d hit me,” I murmur. “I think they were looking at the guardrail.”
Dale’s expression is hard, his voice strained. “Which means he must have hit it after clipping you.”
“I think so,” I say.
“Okay.” He sighs, running a shaking hand through his curls. “You know what, that’s actually good.”
“Good?”
He yanks his phone out of his back pocket and punches in his security code. “Yeah. We can call the auto shops in the area and see if someone’s brought in a car with a dented bumper over the last two days. If he’s coming back to bury your body, then he’s obviously trying to hide the evidence as fast as he can.”
I stay quiet while Dale searches for a list of shops in the area and calls them right away. I chew my lower lip as I listen to Dale finish up the first call.
“Okay, thank you, sir.” He hangs up and immediately dials the next number.
“No luck?”
Dale keeps his eyes on the phone and mumbles. “They haven’t had anything new come in this week.” He lifts the phone to his ear again. “Yeah, hi. I was just wondering if you’ve had any cars come in this week for work around the front bumper area? . . . Are you sure?” Dale’s nose wrinkles. “Yeah, yeah, okay. No, that’s cool. Thanks for your help.”
Dale hangs up.
“I take it they haven’t had anything new, either,” I say.
Dale presses his forehead against his hand and mumbles, “Not unless you were hit by a Chevy G20 van.”
I shake my head. “It was definitely a car.”
I can’t even watch Dale as he tries calling car shop after car shop with no luck. After the sixth try, my nose tingles
with the threat of new tears. “I’m not going to make it, am I?”
Dale stares at me with more intensity than I’ve ever seen from him.
“I am going to find you.” I almost believe him. “Nicky, you just have to stay alive.”
My swallow sounds loud in the quiet room. “Okay.”
He mirrors my nod, pulling himself together and tapping the phone with his thumb. “Did you hear anything else?”
“Nothing helpful.” My shoulders droop. “The older guy was adamant this couldn’t get out, though. He sounded mean, but also kind of scared.” I look up, scrambling for more of the conversation. “He was worried about it making him look bad and he said there would be jail time. He was talking about repercussions and losing everything.” I suck in a quick breath, my eyes bulging. “No graduation. No chance of a scholarship. That’s what he said.”
“Scholarship . . .” Dale hums. “It’s got to be a high school student.”
My head bobs frenetically. “And there’s only one high school around here.”
“We gotta go.” Dale spins for the door and yanks it open. I slip past him and hear the click of the door behind me as I scamper down the path. Dale jiggles the keys in his hands and then unlocks the passenger door of his yellow beater, swinging it open for me. I slip inside with murmured thanks and wait for him to slam the driver’s door closed before speaking again.
“So what do we do?”
“We’ll head to Barrington.” Dale starts the car. Twisting slightly, he throws his arm over the back of my seat and reverses out of the driveway. “We need to search the student parking lot.”
“Really? You honestly think they’re dumb enough to drive to school with a banged-up car?” I frown.
“Look, it’s a long shot, but if the car isn’t at a shop, it’s either in someone’s garage, or there wasn’t enough visible damage for them to worry about still driving it around. If we look carefully, we might be able to spot something, even if it’s just a nick.” He drums his hands on the steering wheel. “Besides, we can’t just sit around all morning when we know there are two guys coming for you.”
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