by Katie French
“Sounds like you need a ride,” Dad said cautiously. “I’ll come get you. I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t move!”
Dad didn’t disconnect the call. I heard his keys jingle, and his Jeep’s door shutting. He didn’t say much as he drove, just reassured me by giving me pointers of exactly where he was on the short ride here.
Soon, his headlights appeared at the entrance to the parking lot. Pulling away from the truck, I ran to meet him. He clambered out of the Jeep, struggling to take out his cane. But he never managed because I crashed into him, doing my best not to sob. Dad wrapped his arms around me, and I could feel relief wash over him. After a moment, he held me at arm’s length and inspected me from head to toe.
“You’re okay,” he said as if to reassure himself. “Did something happen?” His tone had changed, going from panicked to “I’ll kill anyone who hurt my little girl.”
“Dad, I promise I’m not making this up or going crazy.” I hated that I had to preface things with assurances of my sanity, but it was obvious what he would think. “But Mercedes is gone. So is everyone else.”
“Gone?” Dad frowned, but then asked cautiously, “Did they go home?”
“No.” I shook my head and whispered, “Look around.”
Dad pulled away from the Jeep to do as I instructed. He took in the scene, his smart gaze drinking in every detail.
“It’s the same by the bonfire,” I say. “I-I went for a short walk, and when I got back…”
“So you didn’t see anything?” he asked, sounding as if he expected me to say an alien craft had descended from the heavens with the purpose of abducting a bunch of useless, drunken teenagers.
“I didn’t, but Tom was acting strange. He—”
“Tom Palmer?”
“Yes, he came to warn me, told me I should go home because something bad was going to happen. And when I got back… this.” I swung my gaze around the parking lot.
“Lila, it sounds to me like a mean prank.” Dad’s tone was sad and angry all at the same time.
“I thought so, too, but Mercedes wouldn’t play along.”
Dad put a hand on my shoulder. Staring up into his gray eyes, I expected him to call me silly and tell me that my friends were having a laugh at my expense, but he didn’t. Despite all the craziness I put him through after Mom died, he chose to treat me like a rational adult.
“Do you think your friends are all right?” he asked.
“I don’t,” I said without hesitation.
“Then let’s call the police.” He reached for his phone and dialed 911.
“Lila, I need you to focus. Tell me again about what you saw,” Officer Yeager asked from across his desk.
I raised my eyes from the framed photograph I’d been staring at, an image of Officer Yeager and his family in front of the Grand Canyon—a happy place far away from this horrible night.
The rest of the office was like every other boring municipal building—cracked leather chairs from the eighties, messy desks made of cheap particle board, wire file folders, and coffee mugs that read “World’s Okayest Employee.” The only thing resembling a police station were the wanted posters on a bulletin board, but even those looked dusty and ten years old.
What crimes happened in Summers Lake? A few minors charged with possession? A lost purse?
Officer Yeager cleared his throat, still waiting expectedly.
I met his tired, annoyed gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m having a mental breakdown. Can you repeat the question?”
Hairy-knuckled fingers gripped the forms he’d filled out as I’d talked. “If this is some kinda joke—”
“Chuck, she’s been through a lot, and it’s two in the morning.” Dad gripped the back of my chair as he hovered over me. “Can you cut her some slack? All her friends are gone,” he reminded the cop.
Officer Yeager blinked at my dad, his expression weary. “I understand that, Roger. I know how hysterical kids this age can get. It’s just her story doesn’t make a lick of sense.”
I pressed my hands to my forehead, trying to block out everything. Even to me what I was saying didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense starting from the moment Tom yanked me into the trees.
“You need to find Tom Palmer,” I said. “He’s the one who warned me. He must know something. I-it was like something bad was going to happen and he knew it. He came to warn me.” God, I sounded so repetitive.
“Why you?” Officer Yeager asked.
“I… I have no idea.”
My mother. What did he mean about my mother?
Officer Yeager shook his head. “We called the Palmers.”
“And?” I asked.
“Tom was home. He’s been there all night. His mother confirmed it.”
“She’s lying,” I blurted.
Officer Yeager held up his hand. “Look, Lila. I know bullying is terrible. My own boy went through it himself. They used to give him swirlies. You ever heard of Tune in Tokyo?”
When I made a face, he continued.
“Being left behind by all your classmates… Ah, geez, that’s gotta sting. Why would they do that to you? You’re a nice girl. Maybe it’s some of that mean-girl nonsense I’ve seen on Twenty-Twenty.”
“That’s not what happened,” I protested.
He whistled through his nose, his salt-and-pepper mustache oscillating. Gripping the edge of the uncomfortable chair, I tried to keep myself from snatching the mustache off his face.
He tapped the papers on the desk, straightening them. “We have your statement. I have sent officers to the homes of your classmates to try to ascertain their whereabouts. I’m sure we’ll find them in a few hours and you’ll breathe a big sigh of relief, little lady.”
Little lady? “But—”
“We’ll call you if we need anything further. Thanks for coming in.” Officer Yeager stood up and gestured toward the door.
I looked from him to Dad, raging inside. “That’s it? We’re just supposed to leave now? My best friend is missing, a dozen of my classmates are gone, and you’re not going to do anything?” I stood, my hands fisted.
“Lila,” Dad said in a warning tone.
Anger bubbled up in me, my chest burning. All I could think about was Mercedes. Of all of them just… gone. “They wouldn’t leave their cars. All their stuff… They wouldn’t leave.”
“Like I said,” Officer Yeager repeated tiredly, rubbing his hand over his bald patch. “Bullying is a tough thing. Maybe if you didn’t yell so much—”
“I am not being bullied!”
Dad took my arm. “Lila, let’s go. We need to let them do their jobs.”
“They’re not doing their jobs.”
Officer Yeager looked like he wanted to taze me. Instead, he strangled the papers in his hairy, fat hands.
Dad grabbed my other arm, starting to drag me out with what little strength he had. We stumbled a few times, Dad’s leg nearly going out on him. In the end, I had to help him to the door in an awkward, huddled walk as he clomped forward with his cane. Officer Yeager watched us struggle like he felt bad my poor father had to put up with me. I hated his pity. I wanted to knock the stupid pictures off his desk. Grand Canyon, so original.
Instead, I let Dad lead me out of the police station, more tears sliding down my cheeks.
He left me at the passenger side, tapping his way around to the driver’s side. When he folded himself behind the wheel, we both sat in silence. I stared at our poor excuse for a police station, just a dumpy, one-story brick building at the far end of downtown. The sign had bird crap stuck to it, and the flag swayed limply in the dim fluorescent lights.
“In TV shows, the cops take you seriously,” I said, picking at my shorts.
Dad nodded, staring out the windshield. “In TV shows, the police station is manned by cops who haven’t had their own DUIs.”
“Officer Yeager had a DUI?”
Dad put his finger to his lips like I should keep the secret.
Wow, I mo
uthed. Nothing like corruption at the highest level.
“What now?” Dad asked, sliding his hands around his battered steering wheel.
“I can’t just give up,” I said, my heart aching. “They were gone, Dad. This was no prank. They were there, and then they were gone. How could a dozen people just disappear?”
Dad shook his head.
“Tom knows,” I said, realizing what we needed to do. “You know where their house is? The Palmers?”
Nodding, he gestured toward the glowing green numbers on the dash. “It’s past two-thirty in the morning, Li.”
“This could mean life or death for Mercedes. All of them.”
Starting the engine, Dad took a deep breath. “Let’s hope they’re already awake from the visit with the cops.”
Dad drove down the tree-lined highway, letting me sit in silence. There were so many thoughts and emotions whirling around in my head. I couldn’t find one to grab and pin down. Mercedes, Clare, and Sam. Drunk Hailey. She couldn’t move fast. She could barely move at all. Could Sam have carried her somewhere? How long was I with Tom? Three minutes? What had happened to his hands? The blue skin could’ve been paint, and his eyes could have been reflecting the light, but I knew what I’d seen.
Soon, we pulled down the gravel driveway to the Palmers’ house. Dark trees tracked by on either side, walling us in. It made me feel like we were being swallowed. I gripped my knees and tried to calm down.
When the headlights illuminated the house, I bit my lip. The giant building was dark, not a single light shining through the tall, stately windows. The house was as ancient as our lighthouse, originating in the late 1800s. One of the very first to settle at Summer Lake, a rich manufacturer built his house on the best plot of land in the town.
The ancient mansion always gave me the creeps whenever I saw pictures of it, but I’d never actually gotten this close. Now in the driveway, goose bumps climbed up my spine. Three stories, the dormer windows were the dominant feature on the house, staring like dark, vacant eyes. The ornate moldings and brackets, as well as the copula on the roof, were beautiful, but in a haunted way. According to the descriptions, there was also a creepy cellar and a lot of dark wooded property that led to lake access at the back. Lots of places to hide.
“Well?” Dad said, startling me.
I put a hand to my heart. “Yep. Ticker still works. Thanks, Dad.”
“Are you going up?” he asked.
“Are you? Age before beauty.”
Grabbing his keys and cane, he leveled a gaze at me. “We go together, but you do the talking. This is your rodeo.”
“Thanks for the support,” I mumbled sarcastically, but I was glad he was coming. I was chickenshit, to be honest.
After exiting the car, we started up the paved driveway. We got to the foot of the front porch before the light inside switched on. Like they were watching this whole time.
“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind. We should go.” I started to whirl around when the front door opened.
Tom’s mother stepped out into the light that spilled from the open door. She was fully dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt like she’d just gotten off work even though it was almost three in the morning. Her hair was slicked back like it had been when I’d seen her at the vet’s office, and her face appeared carved from stone.
“Roger, Lila, to what do we owe the pleasure?” She raised a thin, dark blonde eyebrow.
Dad cleared his throat, and then started his explanation. “Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Palmer—”
“Call me Tara.”
Dad nodded before continuing. “Something happened tonight at the bonfire. I’m sure you heard.”
She crossed her arms. “Yes. The police were here. Unfortunate.”
“Right. Anyway, Lila is sure Tom was there tonight. That he has some information that might be—”
“Tom was not there,” she said, expression set.
“I saw him, Mrs. Palmer. I talked to him.” I took a step forward, trying to peer in behind her. “Is he here? Can I speak to him?”
Piercing me with frosty eyes that made me shudder, she said, “He is asleep. As you’ve astutely pointed out, it is very late.”
“I know, but can you please wake him? It’s important.”
She leaned on the porch railing, studying me. “I am sure it is very important to you, Lila. But Tom has to retake his SATs tomorrow. He needs his rest.” Her lips curving slightly, she walked down the steps until we were only a few feet away. Every fiber in me was shouting to turn and run from this woman, and I didn’t even know why. She was a vet, a respected person in the community. Yet, something felt… off.
Her voice lowered, and her expression morphed into one of a concerned mother. “Tom told me about what happened at school today. How he asked you out, but then had to cancel. He really is sorry, but it’s in his best interests to focus on school. He’s been accepted into Brown in the fall.”
“Impressive,” Dad said.
Mrs. Palmer smiled.
“If he’s already been accepted, why is he retaking his SATs?” I watched her face as my words rolled over her. Was there a flicker of unease before the smile settled back?
“He is accepted pending a slightly better score on his SATs. They want to see what he can do. That’s why it’s so important I not wake him.”
I started to protest, but Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “Lila, we should go. It’s clear Tom doesn’t know anything.”
“But…”
“Lila,” he said sternly.
I let it go, wanting to get away from Tara Palmer as fast as I could. Being around her made me uncomfortable, but I also believed she was lying. Something was going on. What was she hiding?
“Please tell Tom I need to talk to him,” I told her as I backed up. “Tell him to call me as soon as he is done with the SAT.”
“Will do,” she said sweetly, waving from her place on the porch as we made our way back to the car.
I climbed into the passenger seat, not knowing anything more than when I’d started. Once more, I’d failed Mercedes and everyone who was missing. My only hope now was in the hands of the Summers Lake PD, and that didn’t make me feel one ounce better.
From the porch, Mrs. Palmer still watched our every move. As we drove away, my eyes caught movement in one of the third-story windows, way up in the cupola.
A face peered out, barely visible—Tom Palmer’s pale, haunted expression in the moonlight before he was swallowed up by the darkness.
Chapter Eight
I should have been in bed sleeping. Instead, I sat inside my Mustang, parked in front of the abandoned beach. Everything was as Dad and I had left it. No police tape demarking the area as a crime scene. No Officer Yeager in sight.
He was probably sleeping, dreaming of getting away to the Grand Canyon. Admittedly, it was four in the morning, only an hour since we’d left the police station—not enough time for him to conduct his “investigation,” if he planned to follow through with his promise. Soon, my classmates’ parents would flood his closet-sized office, and then he’d wish he listened to me.
After Dad drove us home from Tom Palmer’s house, I’d gone in my room and locked the door. Dad instructed me to get some rest, but for the ten minutes I was there, all I did was pace and dial Mercedes’s number repeatedly while the events of the night whirled inside my head like little tornadoes. There was nothing I could do, but I felt useless locked up in my room, so I snatched my car keys and snuck out of the house, though not before retrieving Mom’s ring.
As I took it, I tried to deny that Tom was the reason I’d pulled the silver band out of the dusty jewelry box in the first place, but I couldn’t. He had gotten to me. His hands had turned blue, and his eyes had twinkled like the small gems on the accursed ring. So yeah, it was his fault I’d broken my promise never to lay hands on it again.
Now, I opened my clenched fist to study the ring. One dragon ruby eye winked at me, catching what little light came
through the windshield from the lamppost. Turning it over in my hand, I halfway stuck my finger into the silver band. After a tense moment, I came to my senses and clenched it tightly in my fist once more.
“Real brave, Lila,” I chided myself. “And to think you’re all your poor friends have to count on.”
Hell, it seemed I was as useful as Officer Yeager.
Movement on the beach caught my attention. Instinctively, I ducked, sliding my back down the torn leather bucket seat. I peered over the edge of the passenger door. A jogger in a dark tracksuit had entered the parking lot and was headed in my direction. I sank lower, not taking my eyes off the tall man, because it was a dude, for sure. No woman could have birthed a child through those narrow hips.
The guy didn’t stop or seem affected by the sight of the trashed parking lot. Instead, he turned, took the steps that led to the beach, and jogged down.
I peeked over the dashboard.
After only a few paces onto the beach, the man stopped jogging and began to walk with measured steps. As he went, he extended his arms over his head and thrust his hips from side to side in an awkward attempt at stretching. He looked over his shoulder, then toward the extinguished bonfire.
“If you’re just out for a jog, then I’m Sherlock Holmes,” I said under my breath.
When he was a few yards from the bonfire, he stopped and stood still for a long while. I stared at his back, wishing I could see his face. He looked over his shoulder again, then squatted. I craned my neck, pushing away from the seat.
The man’s attention was captured by something in the sand. I squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was. But the only thing I saw was the guy’s hand making a wiping motion over the sand.
“What the hell?” I said under my breath.
Had he just erased some sort of evidence?
Something pinged at my feet.
“Shit!”
I’d dropped the ring.
Reaching into the dark space at my feet, I felt around, but found nothing. An angry growl building in my throat, I pulled the lever to slide the seat back and stuck my head between my legs like a regular contortionist.