“Was?” I asked. I scoured my brain, trying to remember if I’d heard a story about him dying.
“Still is, but he left me right around the time I hurt my back. He couldn’t accept that I’d lost my faith.”
“Lost your faith?”
“God took my baby, and I wasn’t willing to forgive him so easily. Harry, well he believed God did what was right. Drove me up a wall saying ‘it’s God’s way’ and ‘she’s in a better place.’ This was all before they even found her body, mind you. We were divorced almost as quickly as we got married. He’s got a new wife now and her two perfect little kids who still get shined up for church each Sunday.” She let out a short bitter laugh. “I find myself hoping they give him twice as much trouble as Lana.”
“Did she go to church?” I’d never known her to be very religious.
“Not once she turned fourteen or so.” She stubbed out her cigarette and lit another. “Anyway, what was your question again? I’m sorry. These pills make me mindless.”
“Could you tell me about the days leading up to her disappearance?”
“Right, yeah. I can do that. It had been a tough few weeks. Like I said, Harry wasn’t too hot on the idea of his daughter being a lesbian and they got into it more than once. He’d finally told her that she was going to one of those reprogramming camps, but she didn’t take it so well.”
“You really would have sent her?” I asked.
She pushed brittle hair behind her ears and nodded, reaching to pull the ash tray closer. “Yeah. He was set on it. Told her we had a reservation and everything two nights before she left. She went tearing upstairs screaming about how she hated both of us and slammed the door. Of course, that got him going so by the time I got up there he was hollering about her lack of respect and she was screaming about how we wanted her to change. I told her that wasn’t true.”
I frowned. “But you were sending her to the camp?”
“To save her.” She met my eyes. “We thought we were doing what was best.” She shook her head. “Girl was stubborn as a mule. She said she would run away, but we didn’t believe her. Her daddy even told her she should run away if she wasn’t going to give up the sinner’s life.” She shook her head. “I’ll never forget those words. She left thinking he didn’t love her.”
“How about you? Did the two of you leave things on a good note?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Us? No. I told her she didn’t have to be what those girls said she was. I wanted so bad for her to live a good life and she just thought she knew everything. Told me I didn’t love her. That’s what those final days were like.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mrs. Meyers blew out a puff of smoke. I barely stopped myself from wrinkling my nose. The room felt thick with it.
“So she threatened to run away?”
“Over and over again. She was dead set on not getting help for her urges.” She reached forward and flicked ash toward the ashtray. “I don’t care what anyone says. My daughter was no lesbian. Misguided and confused? Absolutely, but not a lesbian.”
She sounded like my mom. “So what happened when she went missing?”
“Well, at first we thought she was just testing us, pretending to run away.” She leaned forward and snagged a half-empty bottle of soda from the floor. She took a gulp of it before continuing. “I told Harry we needed to call the police as soon as she didn’t come home, but he was set against it. He thought she would come home in the morning, tail between her legs.”
“But she didn’t.” Of course, I already knew she had never come home.
She shook her head. “No, we never saw her again. Worse, we wasted the first twenty-four hours clinging to the idea that she was just being a rebellious teenager.”
I shifted on the seat. Possible questions were swarming through my mind. “So what happened after you contacted the police?”
“They began asking after her in town. Wasn’t too long before they found out she’d been picked up by Brandon Kinner.”
“Really?” That surprised me. He was five or six years older than us. The kind of guy who showed up at all the high school events long after he should have moved on.
“Do you know him?” She looked at me questioningly.
“No,” I said quickly. “I just didn’t know there had been a lead that early in the case. What happened?”
“Bastard swore up and down he only gave her a ride to Indigo Falls. They had nothing to hold him on so they let him go.” She shook her head as she stubbed out her cigarette. I was relieved when she didn’t immediately light another. “Of course, when they found the body they hauled him right back in there.”
“How come?”
“They had footprints at the scene. Men’s boots.”
“Not his, I guess?”
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Too small. I still think he had something to do with it though. Maybe he sold her to someone.”
That seemed a little farfetched, but I nodded. “Where did they find her?” I knew they found her in the woods, but I didn’t know any details. I held my breath, wondering if she would tell me.
“You know the old mill out in Lockhaven woods?”
I held in a shudder as I nodded. That place was creepy to begin with. Adding a murder to it took it to a whole new level. “Yeah, I’ve been out there before.”
“Well, that’s where they found her.” She bit her lip. “What was left of her at least.” She took a deep breath, wiping a hand over her eyes. “Bastard did everything he could to destroy her body. They never even found her teeth. He chopped her up, burned her, and then soaked what was left in bleach.”
My stomach churned, thinking of the lively Lana I’d known broken down into nothing. I swallowed hard. “How did they know it was her?”
Mrs. Meyers motioned to her neck. “She had a necklace. Gold with a little bird. Somehow it came through the fire okay. There was also enough blood evidence in the room and on an old ax.” She reached for the cigarettes and lit another.
“I’m sorry for making you remember all this.” I felt evil for asking her so many questions.
“You never forget,” she said hollowly. Her hands shook as she flicked the lighter absently in her hand. “I will never forget what happened to her.”
I took a deep breath, knowing what I was about to ask might be stepping over the line. “Is there any chance I could see her room?” She looked up at me sharply. I hurried to continue. “I want to be able to paint a picture of what her life was like before all this. You know, show her as a real girl.”
She hesitated. “I suppose there’s no harm in that.”
Wearily, she pushed herself off the couch. She clung to the stair rail as we climbed the stairs, pulling herself up each step. There was a small landing at the top and three closed doorways. She motioned to the one on the right. “In there.”
I reached for the handle. The day I’d been to the house with Lana, we’d spent the afternoon in the kitchen. I wasn’t sure what to expect from her room.
It was painted a surprisingly sunny yellow, but much like my room, posters covered the walls. Most of them were for bands I’d only vaguely heard of; we had little in common musically. It wasn’t a large room, just space for a dresser, a bed, and a bedside table. There was maybe six feet of empty floor space. Downstairs, a phone began to ring.
I glanced over my shoulder at Mrs. Meyers. “Did you need to get that?”
She began to shake her head, then she sighed. “I suppose I should. Could be my sister and she worries if I don’t answer.” She started back down the stairs.
I stepped farther into the room, drawn to two bookshelves hung on the wall. I recognized the titles of a few books, but that wasn’t what drew me in. Over half of the lower shelf was taken up by composition notebooks. I tugged one free from the middle. The cover read August Through November, Seventh Grade. I slipped it back in place. My fingers slid over the books until I reached the last one. I pulled it out. October Throu
gh March, Tenth Grade. I glanced at the door and then flipped open the book.
I know I should be looking forward to Christmas vacation, but I just can’t seem to get excited. It’s just going to be two weeks of nothing. Dad will go on and on about how we shouldn’t even be opening presents because the day is about Jesus and Mom will sneak vodka into her juice. I plan to do the same.
I turned ahead a few pages.
I spent the night at Rachel’s for New Year’s. We went to a party at her boyfriend’s house. It was better than being at home with my parents, but not by much. Derrick is such a dick. I don’t know what Rachel sees in him. Someone brought E, so we all took some. At first it was great, but then Rachel went off with Derrick, probably to have sex. I hate him. When she finally came back, we left. We both slept in her bed and I was up half the night because every time she brushed against me it felt amazing. Part of me wanted to shake her awake and beg her to tell me why she tortured me. She knows how I feel about her. It’s fine that she doesn’t like me back, but why does she have to tease that maybe someday there will be a chance?
I raised an eyebrow as I turned the page. That was new. As far as I knew, Rachel and Lana were just friends. She’d never said anything different to me. I caught my name on a page and began reading.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think Alissa gets me. I about died when Mr. Sampson told me to tutor her. I’d always thought she was a stuck-up bitch like Madison and Genny, but she isn’t. Once you get her away from them she’s actually really sweet. I swear to God she’s even flirting with me sometimes! We were at the library and our hands kept brushing. When I scooted closer to explain something to her my leg pressed to hers and I swear she pressed back.
I flushed. I remembered that day well. I had been pressing my leg against hers. I’d been surprised at how intense her closeness made me feel. I’d also been confused. It was strange to think she realized I was gay before I did. I flipped to the end of the book, but the entry was nothing special. It ended before Madison and Genny caught us kissing.
“Lana kept those ever since she was little.”
I jumped at the sound of Mrs. Meyers’ voice. I turned to see her leaning on the door frame. She gave me a small smile.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried like that.” I slipped the book back onto the shelf.
“It’s fine. I’ve never been able to bring myself to read any of those ones.”
“These ones?” I glanced between her and the books. “Are there more?”
She nodded. “One more. It showed up about four months ago, lying on the porch like it belonged there.”
A chill ran up my spine. “Can I see it?”
*
I settled back into the armchair while Mrs. Meyers dug the notebook out from the mess on the table. It looked like the others, but wasn’t labeled with any months yet. I flipped it open, realizing about half the pages were missing. I frowned and looked up.
“Where are the rest of the pages?”
“They were gone when I got it.” She puffed on her cigarette. “The last entry is from the day before she went missing.”
I scanned the entry. Nothing really stood out. “Have you read all of this?” If this notebook came after the one I’d just read, then it probably mentioned me.
“No.” She shook her head and fished another bottle of pills from the table, dry swallowing again. “I flipped through it a couple times, but I couldn’t make myself read it all.”
“Have you shown this to the police?”
She snorted. “Why bother? They can’t do anything for her now.”
“But what if there are clues that could help them find the person who killed her?” Anger flared in my chest. Maybe if she’d taken the book to the cops Hannah wouldn’t have gone missing. “You could help stop him from hurting someone else.”
She shrugged. “Not my problem.”
Those three words more than anything told me just how far gone she was. I closed the book and set it on my lap. “Thanks for your time. I think I better head out.”
“Suit yourself. You won’t mind if I don’t show you out? Going upstairs took it right out of me.” As she spoke, she looked toward the stairs and I made a split second decision to slip the book into my purse.
“Of course.” I forced a polite smile when she turned back to me. If she noticed the missing notebook she didn’t say anything. I paused in the living room doorway. “Did you ever receive any notes from the kidnapper?”
She frowned at me. “Just the ransom note and the one that came with her finger.”
I felt sick. I’d thought the finger thing was a rumor. It had never been in the news, but everyone in school whispered about it. When Lana’s parents didn’t pay the ransom, the kidnapper sent them one of Lana’s fingers.
I swallowed hard. A sour taste filled my mouth. “Were they handwritten?” I thought of the notes I’d received.
“No, they were typed. You know, with one of those old fashioned typewriters?” Her brow furrowed at the memory.
I nodded. Unfortunately, I was all too familiar. “What did the second note say?”
Her voice was empty when she said, “You could have saved her.”
Chapter Nineteen
The fresh air and cold sunlight was a welcome relief after the stuffy, smoke-filled house. I almost ran to my car and couldn’t pull out of the driveway fast enough. I was no longer convinced that Rachel was the one sending the notes. The note with the finger told me that much. It was just the right amount of evil and creepy to make it familiar. It felt like the notes I’d received. If that was the case, then Rachel had kidnapped and killed Lana. I just couldn’t believe that. Still, I had to confront her to know for sure.
Back at my house, I hurried upstairs and called Nick. I hadn’t wanted him to come with me to see Mrs. Meyers, but I was beginning to wish he had been there. He answered after only two rings.
“Hey.”
“Hey. Can you talk?”
“Oh, now you want to talk?”
I winced. “I know. I’m sorry about earlier, but my mom was hovering right here.”
“I kind of got that, but you could have texted me what was going on after we got off the phone.”
“You’re right.” I sighed. “I’m sorry. I did what you suggested though. I went to talk to Lana’s parents.” I began pacing the room and biting my thumbnail.
“You did?” I could tell I had his interest. “What did they say?”
“Well, her dad has moved out and remarried, so I only talked to her mom. She’s a bit of a mess.”
Nick snorted. “Of course she is. She lost her daughter.”
“Yeah, I know. Anyway, she filled me in on some more details and I’ll get into that in a minute. The strangest thing was I went to see Lana’s room.”
“Yeah, that is a little strange. Why did you want to do that?”
I blew out a long breath and plopped down on my bed, lying back to stare at the ceiling. I tried to put my feelings into words. “I just wanted to see what her room was like. You know, what sort of person she was when she was alone. The weird thing is Lana had all these notebooks, journals.”
“Huh,” Nick said.
I expected him to say something else, but he was silent. “What?”
He took a breath. I imagined him adjusting his baseball cap. “Nothing. I just never thought of her as the sort of girl to keep a diary.”
“Me either,” I said. “The ones in her room went up until the March before she disappeared.” I considered what I was about to say. If I told him, then Nick would be in this fully. I decided to plunge forward. “About four months ago, someone dropped off another journal that starts the April before she disappeared.”
“Whoa.” Nick’s breath was sharp enough to hear over the phone. “That’s extra freaky.”
“You think that’s strange? How about this? The last entry in it is from the day before she went missing. The pages after that were all torn out.”
Nick was silent. I wondered if he was sitting looking as shocked as I felt when I saw the half-empty notebook. I heard him take another deep breath.
“That’s beyond strange.”
“That was my thought.”
“Do the police know about the journal?” Excitement was starting to build in his voice.
“No. Lana’s mom is too messed up. She didn’t think there was any reason to show them since her daughter was dead.” It was unsettling how easy those words were beginning to feel.
“So, whoever took Lana kept her journal for almost a year and then gave it back, but kept any pages she might have written while she was with them?”
“Seems like.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.” I groaned and rolled to my stomach. Stale cigarette smoke wafted up from my shirt and I wrinkled my nose. “Nothing about this makes any sense. Why give back the journal at all? Why send notes?”
“Tell me everything else she told you.”
I filled him in on everything from the fights they had to the note with the finger. Nick listened quietly, only making small noises of surprise now and then. I found myself wishing I had just gone to his house so we could work everything out together.
“Brandon Kinner, huh?” Nick asked. I could imagine him curled up on the window seat in his room. I’d always been jealous of that seat. “That’s that guy who used to hang around school all the time, right?”
“Yeah.” Only then did I realize Brandon had stopped coming to sporting events and such right after Lana disappeared. “He always talked about how he was in a band and they were going to make it big.”
Nick laughed. “Somehow I doubt that.”
I smiled. “Yeah. Probably not happening.” I ran a finger over the bed frame and a thin layer of dust came up. “Do you think we should go talk to him?”
“Brandon? I don’t know. He was cleared, right?”
“Yeah, but maybe he could still tell us something new. He told the cops he gave her a ride to Indigo Falls.”
18 Months Page 9