by Gina LaManna
“The call log is wiped clean – why?” I flicked back to double check, but there wasn’t a single call record. “Why wipe the call log clean, but leave the texts? Maybe the message doesn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe,” Anthony agreed. “Or maybe these days they don’t even use the call feature, so it’s just plain empty. All of the kids I see running around are always using their thumbs a mile a minute. I don’t see people talking. Either way, let’s get these phones to Clay and see what he can find.”
“Why isn’t there a contact name for the number?” Nicky asked, coming to stand over my shoulder. “If you notice here, the text shows up as a series of digits. Not “Sara” or “Melissa” like the rest of their friends.”
I glanced at the number display where normally a contact’s name would appear. “Maybe it’s a friend who recently got a new phone. Or maybe they just met each other, and forgot to save the number. I’ve done that before.”
“Or maybe they didn’t know each other, but recently exchanged contact information,” Anthony said. “Either way, we know what we need to do next.”
Nicky straightened, crossing his arms. “So, how do you propose we find our M?”
CHAPTER 18
“Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you guys?” Nicky poked his head through the driver’s side door of the Lumina. I’d driven the gang – Nicky, Meg, Anthony, and myself back to the estate. Nicky stood outside on the driveway, his hands shoved into his pockets. “I can help.”
“You’ll do more help here.” I pointed towards the front door, where my grandmother poked her head out and waved. “Look, Nora’s waiting for you.”
“But—”
“Listen, we need to be able to reach you right away with any questions that come up,” I said. “It’s best if you stay here where Nora can feed you and let you sleep. You shouldn’t be alone.”
Giving a quick nod, he straightened and took a few paces backwards. “Fine, I’ll stick around.”
I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Don’t leave the estate, okay? We’ll call you with updates. Plus, I have Anthony here to help. He’s the best, you know.”
“And you.” Nicky murmured, almost under his breath.
“What?”
“You. You’re the best, too,” he said. “You even got that job out in California.”
“That was just…” I was about to tell Nicky it was good luck, fortunate timing, whatever you want to call that fickle thing named fate. But instead, I raised my chin and tried to sound confident. “Exactly, and we’ll find them.”
“And me; I’m also the best.” Meg leaned forward from the back seat. “Me too, bud, don’t forget about ol’ Meggo, here.”
Nicky rapped his knuckles on the roof of the car, then shuffled towards the front steps where my grandmother awaited his arrival. I’d called in advance, asking her to keep an eye on him while we sorted through the jumble of information we’d gathered. After Nora’s arms wrapped around Nicky in a hug, I threw the car into reverse and headed home.
CHAPTER 19
“Whatcha got for us?” I marched into the space I called my apartment, though over the past month it’d begun to feel less and less like home, and more like a storage facility for my clothes and bed.
Clay looked up from the living room couch, the entire room cluttered with blinking, beeping, almost-alive electronic gadgets that welcomed me into the room with glowing gazes. “Long time, no see. Rumor has it you unlocked their phones?” Clay put a hand out. “May I?”
Meg reached over and high-fived Clay’s outstretched palm before I could offer up the mobile device.
I picked Meg’s hand off Clay’s with two fingers, replacing it with Clarissa’s phone. “Only Clarissa’s phone is unlocked. Password is L-U-K-E. Marissa’s password is still a mystery.”
“You know, if I were to lock my phone, my password would be C-L-A-Y,” Meg purred on Clay’s shoulder. “But seeing how I don’t have anything to hide, I don’t lock my phone at all. If people are brave enough to go through it, they deserve what they see.”
“Deserve what they see?” Clay said distractedly. Thankfully, he was so wrapped up in the programs and numbers flashing across his computer screen that Meg’s pickup line was lost on him. There was nothing like a robot to distract Clay from true love.
“Yeah.” Meg fluffed her hair, not used to being ignored. “Like selfies.”
“Mmm,” Clay murmured, still not paying attention to anything but the computer. “I see.”
Meg’s mouth parted in surprise, probably that she still hadn’t captured Clay’s attention. “Nudie selfies,” Meg said. “I don’t think you see. We’re talking naughty pictures.”
Clay’s fingers slipped off the keyboard, the robot no longer a distraction. His face bloomed a brilliant red, and he turned to me. “Why doesn’t she lock her phone?”
“Why are you asking me? She’s right there.” I nodded at Meg.
“It’s because I’m a confident woman,” Meg said, leaning on Clay’s shoulder. “Feel free to take a gander through the photo album on my phone sometime if you’re bored.”
Clay muttered a few words that sounded like a spell from Harry Potter. Or Parseltongue. Either way, it wasn’t English.
“Meg,” I patted my friend’s hand. “You’re distracting Clay. Let’s save your special photos for later and let him concentrate.”
“Fine,” Meg said. “I understand. It’s a lot to handle. Anthony, you wanna take a peek through my phone while Clay’s busy? You could probably handle it.”
“No.”
“But—”
“I’ve seen alllll that you have to offer,” Anthony said. “And I’m good. In related news, you’re banned from my shower. Forever.”
“Is it because I like to air dry?” Meg asked. “I did that one time at your house while you were away.”
“I wasn’t away, I was working. Let’s be clear: I never want to come home and find you air-drying on my couch again. Understood?” Anthony said. “Once was enough.”
“Fine.” Meg wiggled her eyebrows. “So, about those phone pictures…last chance!”
“Okay, I’ve got something,” Clay interrupted. “Does the name Bessie ring any bells to you?”
“Bessie, that’s the name of a girl in their class,” I said. “She’s rich and has mono, and that’s all we know. The text message came from her phone?”
Clay nodded, then handed me a slip of paper. “Yes, and here’s her address.”
I folded the piece of paper and slipped it into my purse, pushing aside the lace falling out of the bag’s zipper in the process. “Anthony and I are going to head over there. Meg, you coming with us?”
She raised her arms, stretched them wide, and gave the hugest, fakest yawn in all of Minnesota. “I’m a little sleepy, so I think I’ll nab some beauty rest. What do you say I hang out here and provide Clay with technical support?”
“Is that what you guys are calling it these days?” I winked. “Technical support?”
Clay shouted after me as I reached the front door. “It’s not what you think.”
“I’m not thinking anything,” I hollered back. “Trying not to, at least.”
I glanced around, realizing Anthony had somehow vanished from the apartment and was probably waiting in the car for me. Hurriedly, I shut the front door just as Meg asked Clay to show her the new dongle on his computer.
Dongles. Right.
CHAPTER 20
“A dongle is a real piece of electronic equipment,” Anthony said, once I’d climbed into the passenger seat of the Lumina. He’d helped himself to the driver’s side, though his lack of keys had me wondering how the car was running with the heat blasting full force. “It’s a technical term, Lacey.”
“It’s a piece of equipment, alright.” I rolled my eyes. “A dongle. What was their marketing team thinking? I want to know who thought that was a good idea. Can you imagine if it broke? I’d have to go to customer service and ask
them to adjust my dongle. I don’t feel comfortable doing that.”
“You don’t like adjusting dongles?” Anthony’s lips twitched upwards as he pulled away from the curb. “You have a talent for it.”
I gave his shoulder a “love” punch. “Be quiet, you.”
“Meg’s up there fiddling with Clay’s dongle?” Anthony couldn’t hold back his grin any longer. It flashed big and wide as he took a turn onto the highway.
“You’re pretty proud of that one, aren’t you?” I shook my head, looking out the window and trying not to laugh.
“I was working on that for at least two minutes.” Anthony glanced at me with a Cheshire Cat grin spread across his face. “Of course I’m proud of it.”
I couldn’t keep my own lips from quirking. “Is that right? You’ve been working on your dongle for two minutes?”
Anthony froze. “My dongle joke.”
“Anthony, I’m kidding.”
“Oh.”
“You’re pretty sensitive about your dongle.”
“Lacey…”
“You started it. I’m just keeping the party going.” I crossed my arms. “You can’t beat me at my own game.”
“How’d you get so good at making jokes?”
“Try being friends with Meg for a few years. You’ll either laugh or cry. I choose to make jokes, and then laugh.”
“You laugh at your own jokes?”
“If they’re good ones,” I said. “And they’re usually good, if I may say so myself.”
Anthony had the guile to reach over and pat me on the head. “Whatever keeps you happy.”
“Dongles keep me happy.”
Anthony applied the brakes so fast we skidded onto an exit from the highway. Thankfully, the roads were nearly abandoned. He turned and looked at me after safely pulling onto a side street. “If you keep talking like that, I’m turning this car around right now and taking you home.”
I gave him my most doe-eyed, innocent expression. “I’m talking about computers.”
Anthony leaned over and kissed me on the mouth so deliciously my breath disappeared for a full three seconds. “Still thinking about computers?”
“I think…” I looked straight ahead, hotter than I should be in the chilly car. I struggled to find a good sentence to follow up the thought, but I failed.
“Let’s go talk to Bessie and find the girls.” Anthony pulled back onto the road. “The good news is that this was the correct exit, and this is the address Clay gave us.”
After he parked, I popped open the trunk of the car and stashed my purse beneath a blanket. I’d already brought a bullet-proof bra to show and tell for Bessie’s class; I didn’t need to scar her any further with underwear falling out of my bag. I nodded to Anthony. “I’m ready.”
CHAPTER 21
“Hi, Mrs., uh…” I hesitated, realizing that Clay hadn’t told me Bessie’s last name. “Is Bessie here?”
The highly-manicured, exceptionally polished woman turned her pointy nose in the air so high I could see well into her nicely groomed nostrils. “May I ask why?”
She pronounced the “H” in why with enough force to bristle my hair, and I sort of wanted to poke her hoity-toity nose back down where it belonged. Then again, it was getting late in the evening, and Anthony and I weren’t exactly dressed to impress. He still had his running clothes on, and I had on a pair of knock-off Uggs that’d stomped through a lot of mud today.
“My cousins are the same age as your daughter. All three of them go to the same school,” I said. “Today, my cousins went missing, and we were hoping—”
I didn’t get to spell out exactly what we were hoping since Mrs. Bessie’s-mom let out a squeal of surprise so loud I blinked and took a step back. A big step back. So big I stepped right off the stoop and hurtled toward the ground.
Thankfully, Anthony acted quickly and caught me beneath the armpits before I wiped out for the second time today. My tailbone hadn’t come close to recovering from my ice escapades, and I still walked with a noticeable limp. Hoisting me back onto my feet and away from the steps, Anthony took the lead.
“Ma’am,” he said in the smooth, suave voice that he used to get information out of people, mostly people of the female gender. “Excuse my friend, here, she’s had a rough day, and is very distraught.”
I nodded, then ducked my head and tried not to think about dongles. But for some reason, dongles popped into my head, and a case of the nervous giggles bubbled up. Luckily, I managed to keep the giggles silent, but my shoulders shook quite convincingly. I shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this; nothing about the situation was funny. Call it nervous energy, call it anxiety, call it what you will, I couldn’t stop. So I kept my head down and pretended to cry.
“As you can see,” Anthony said. “She’s very upset.”
“Well, I suppose that’s understandable,” Bessie’s mom sniffed in my direction, missing the wry note in Anthony’s voice. Like most women, she wasn’t unaffected by Anthony’s charm, and she opened the door a little wider. “What do you want with my daughter?”
“We have reason to believe your daughter may have exchanged text messages with Marissa and Clarissa the day before they disappeared, and we were hoping to ask her a few questions.”
“I suppose they ran away?” she asked, clearly digging for gossip. When neither of us answered, she continued. “That doesn’t surprise me with a father like theirs. Can you believe he brought store-bought cookies for the girls’ snack week? Nobody brings store-bought cookies. Cookies aren’t even allowed anymore.”
“Watch it,” I said, stepping forward onto the stoop. “That’s my family you’re talking about, and he’s a single dad trying really hard. Also, cookies are definitely allowed. They’re kids!”
“I’m sure your homemade cookies are much tastier,” Anthony said, extending an arm behind him and gently pushing me back onto the sidewalk. “But this has nothing to do with their father. We’re not sure if they ran away or…if something else has happened. We’re just trying to find out before it’s too late.”
I did my best to fume silently into the background and blend in with the carefully shoveled piles of snow on either side. For the girls’ sake, I held my tongue instead of telling Bessie’s mom what I really wanted to say. Which was that her whole-grain, gluten-free, foo-foo, homemade cookies probably tasted like cardboard and that Bessie probably traded them for Hostess cupcakes behind her back. Kids would be kids, lady.
“I’m sure they ran away,” Mrs. Bessie’s-mom said. “And anyway, my daughter would have nothing to do with those girls. Troublemakers, the whole family.”
More fuming from my end. It took all the power I possessed to keep my lips shut. I wasn’t giggly anymore, and any sign of humor was long gone, sucked right out by the Dementor that was this woman.
“Please, ma’am,” Anthony softened his voice. “They’re just young girls. Whether you approve of their dad’s lifestyle or not, they don’t deserve to be put in danger. Can you imagine if it was your daughter?”
“It wouldn’t be my daughter. I don’t let my daughter wander free in the streets.”
“They weren’t wandering free! They were at school,” I retorted. I couldn’t help it. Maybe there was a tiny white lie in there, since we weren’t sure if the girls had wandered away from school, or if they’d been snatched. “Your daughter goes to the same school. People that kidnap little girls don’t discriminate between which types of cookies their parents pack for lunch.”
“What Lacey is trying to say,” Anthony cut in, again using that soothing tone, “is that this could happen to anyone. Can you imagine getting a phone call from school saying that Bessie didn’t make it to class, even though you’d dropped her off?”
“But I walk my Bessie into the building—” she started, that nose inching higher and higher into the air.
Anthony interrupted her this time, mid-sentence. He put one arm on the doorframe, the other on his hip, and even I had to admit tha
t the view was impressive. He’d spread his mass out across the entire front stoop, all muscles and dark, shiny hair complementing stern black eyes. His black spandex shirt rippled as he shifted his weight from one foot to the next, his outdoorsy, pine-scented aftershave permeating the air around us. If Mrs. Bessie’s-mom wasn’t impressed, well then, as Meg would say, she was a robot.
For a moment, Mrs. Pointy just stared. She stared at Anthony, her thin lips twisted into a lopsided “O,” her eyes blank.
I shuffled my feet against the sidewalk, partially to spare her the embarrassment of drooling on her own front steps, and partially because I was getting cold. Plus, we didn’t have all day to stare at Anthony.
“Oh, well…” She spluttered a bit, adjusting a thin, silver bracelet dangling around her thin, pale wrist. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. But I’ll warn you, Bessie is under the weather, and she’s a little cranky.”
“That’s no problem at all, ma’am,” Anthony practically crooned. “We’ll be in and out, I promise. Chances are she doesn’t know anything about the situation. We’re just trying to cover all of our bases.”
Bessie’s mom threw the door open wide. Then she stopped, looking back like she’d forgotten an important detail. “Are you like, police or something?”
“Or something,” Anthony said, letting Mrs. Pointy form her own conclusions.
“So, you are the police?” she asked. But her tone wasn’t worried, it was more…awestruck. Intrigued. Almost seductive. “The special police?”
“Or something.” Anthony winked, taking another step towards the door. His bulky form took up most of the frame, and Mrs. Pointy looked far smaller than her already petite size. Even her pointy nose seemed to shrink.
“Come in, I suppose. But please remove your shoes.” She glared at my boots. “Outside. Leave them outside. I don’t live in a barn.”