Vanished

by E. E. Cooper

  Zach stood. “Okay. If you say so.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. Zach knew me. He had to know I wasn’t okay. But he didn’t want to be messed up in this.

  If he could play it cool, so could I. “I should get started on my homework.” I pulled on my sleeves. “I really appreciate you coming over. I know you didn’t have to.”

  Zach looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out what it was. He nodded and moved toward the door. “I’m sorry I was a jerk when you first called,” he said. He was practically halfway out the door already.

  “Don’t worry about it. You came when it counted,” I said. I mentally willed him to stop being so stiff and formal. To ask me why I’d talked to the reporters. To ask me what was wrong.

  Zach smiled weakly. “You can always call me if you need to.” But it was obvious he hoped I wouldn’t.

  Zach started down the stairs, then stopped and turned back. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.

  I smiled instead of answering.

  As soon as I heard the front door close I started crying. I cried until I couldn’t anymore. I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I crawled onto my bed, pushing the set of clean sheets onto the floor. I wrapped the duvet around me and turned on my computer screen. I would go through all the chats with Britney. Reassure myself I hadn’t said anything to give myself away. Then I’d forget this and move forward.

  When the chat program opened I thought I must have done something wrong. I shut it down and opened it again.

  The history section was empty. All of our talks were gone.

  Vanished.

  I clicked open the deleted items folder. Nothing. My breath slowed down. I clicked on the sent folder. Also empty. I leaned back against the pillows. Where were all the messages?

  Above my desk I had a cork board. Directly in the center was a piece of paper listing all my school and personal passwords. I used the same one for email and chat, and for most of my social media stuff. Brit wouldn’t need to have seen the Post-it, though. We’d all known each other’s passwords at some point.

  How could I have been so stupid? I should have realized she would access it. What else had I screwed up? What other messages in my history had she seen?

  I wondered if I could get into her account. I typed her new user name and the password she’d always relied on in the past. It was declined. I tried Beth’s, but that failed too. I tried switching the numbers in it to Brit’s birthday and then the day she started dating Jason. Declined. I typed in the date she’d “died.” This time a window popped up.

  You’ve exceeded the number of password attempts for this account. If you’ve lost your password, enter your email and it will be sent to you.

  Shit.

  My hand shaking, I picked up my phone and dialed Nadir.

  “Hey, sis,” he said picking up. “How’s it going?”

  “Not great.”

  “I was thinking I might come home this weekend,” he said. His voice didn’t contain any of the usual teasing.

  I closed my eyes. I wanted my big brother to come back and fix everything, but I knew he couldn’t. “You don’t have to do that. You’re getting ready for exams. I’ll be okay. But I needed to ask you something.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “Do you know how I can recover lost chat transcripts?”

  He paused. I could tell he hadn’t expected that question. He was likely wondering who was left for me to chat with. “It depends on the program. Open it up and I’ll see if I can walk you through it.”

  I knew having a computer whiz for a brother would come in handy. “I’m looking at it now.”

  “Have you checked the history and the trash?”

  “Seriously?” I asked, annoyed.

  “Hey, when I help Grandma with computer stuff I start by making her double-check that the computer is plugged in. Which often solves it.”

  “Yes. It’s turned on and the chats aren’t there. They’re not in the trash, they’re not in the history, and they’re not anywhere else I can see.”

  “I’m sorry, Kay-Kay, but that means they’re gone. Unless the other person saved them. You’re using a web interface, so they’re not stored elsewhere on your computer.”

  He had me open the settings tab. There was a box checked that said delete all chats after sign-off. “There’s your problem right there.”

  “But I didn’t want that. I never checked that option,” I said.

  “You might have selected it by accident. Happens all the time.”

  “I didn’t change it,” I said, my voice louder. “I would remember if I had. I’m not delusional.”

  Nadir was silent.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

  “Maybe the default settings changed. Whatever it was, those chats are gone.”

  It wasn’t the default. Britney had deleted them. I was sure of it, and it was my own fault. It never occurred to me to change my password.

  Beth underestimated her too. Beth had assumed she could manage Britney, and look how that turned out.

  “Thanks for trying to help,” I said.

  “No problem, what are big brothers for? Look at the bright side—it was just some chats. At least you didn’t lose a term paper or anything important.”

  I had no way to tell him I’d lost everything.

  “I have to run to class, but let’s talk later, okay? Think about me coming for a visit. It’s not just for you; I could con Mom into making some kadhi.”

  “Mom would make you whatever you wanted.”

  “That’s because I’m her favorite son,” Nadir fired back.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Wake up, little sister: you’re supposed to point out I’m her only son.”

  I managed a small fake laugh and hung up.

  Did I really think Brit would hurt me? Not hurt, kill.

  Killing Beth over Jason was a crime of passion and betrayal. If she came after me it would be about covering her ass.

  I wanted to believe Britney wouldn’t go that far. But it felt like I’d been warned.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  You know it isn’t a good day when there’s a cop at your doorstep. Even if you’re the one who invited her.

  “Hi,” Officer Siegel said. She had on jeans and a crisp white blouse. She must have been off the clock.

  “Thanks for coming.” I stepped back so she could come in.

  “Hard to take a pass with all that mystery.”

  “I didn’t want to explain everything on the phone. I thought this would be easier.”

  “Who’s here?” Mom came around the corner, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She smiled at our guest.

  “This is Officer Siegel. She’s the liaison officer from my school.”

  My mom’s smile tightened and she shot me a quick look before reaching out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Amina.”

  “Alex,” Officer Siegel replied. I don’t know why I was surprised she had a first name. “Kalah invited me.”

  They both looked at me. “I want to talk to all of you.”

  “Well, then let’s go into the living room. I’ll get Kalah’s dad. Can I make some tea, maybe coffee?” My mom had gone into hostess mode.

  “No, thank you.”

  “All right. Then we’ll join you in a minute.” She walked away.

  I led Officer Siegel into our living room. She peered at the display of family photos.

  “Officer Siegel?” My dad strode in, my mom trailing behind. She was still holding the kitchen towel. “I’m Scott.”

  They shook hands. My parents both sat on the sofa and Officer Siegel took the leather club chair. I kept standing. They all stared at me.

  I took a deep breath. I’d written down what I wanted to say in a bullet-point list to make sure I came across as rational as possible. I’d even practiced in front of the bathroom mirror. I felt the list in my pocket ready to be pulled
out if needed. “I’ve gotten myself in a situation and I need help.”

  “Maybe you should talk to your parents first,” Officer Siegel said, holding up her palms as if to stop what I was going to say. “I’m not here in any kind of official capacity, but I wouldn’t want to blur any lines.”

  Did she think I was going to confess a crime? I saw my mom reach for my dad’s hand. She looked pale.

  “There are no lines to be blurred,” I said. “This isn’t about me, at least not directly. It’s about Britney and Beth. I’ve uncovered what really happened and I think I’m in danger.” I cleared my throat. I had to come across as more confident and calm. “I’m sure I’m in danger.”

  “Kalah,” my dad said, his voice resigned.

  “Someone broke into the house earlier today. They were in my room.” I threw the words down like a gauntlet. Officer Siegel leaned forward. I had her attention now.

  My parents exchanged a glance. “Honey, is this about your panic attack?” Mom asked. “Zach called me.”

  “He’s worried about you,” Dad added.

  “Panic attack?” Officer Siegel asked.

  “Kalah has some challenges with anxiety,” my mom said.

  “I had an attack because I realized she’d been here,” I said. “She broke in and rearranged things in my room. It was a threat. She wanted me to know, to put me on guard that she could get to me.”

  “Beth broke in?” Officer Siegel asked, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Are you saying you think Beth did something to Britney?”

  “No, Britney did. Let me explain,” I said.

  “Oh, honey,” my mom said. Her voice was so sad. Officer Siegel looked away, almost embarrassed.

  “I’ll check the alarm. Maybe we can clear this right up.” Dad got up and went to the kitchen.

  “After you left for school I put some laundry in your room,” my mom said. “I’m sure I moved some things. I remember tilting your blinds for a bit more light.”

  “It wasn’t just that,” I said, but suddenly I was uneasy. Had I been mistaken?

  Dad was back a second later. “There’s no record that the alarm went off.”

  I pushed aside frustration and dropped into a chair. I had to stay calm. “We all knew the codes to each other’s houses. She wouldn’t have set off the alarm.”

  “Kalah, the alarm records any time anyone comes in and out of the house. After your mom set it this morning, the next time anyone came into the house was at three. That would have been you.” Dad’s voice was even, but I could see the tension in his face.

  “It’s not just the alarm. I’ve been getting messages.”

  My mom’s eyes filled with tears. It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. Dad’s face was neutral, but he was gripping my mom’s hand.

  I could feel panic burbling up, like bubbles in a boiling pot. I had to get back to my bullet-point list.

  “Kalah, I’m not sure you’re seeing this situation objectively,” Dad said gently. “It’s understandable. You’ve been through a lot.”

  Officer Siegel nodded and I felt the panic increase. She didn’t believe me either. I’d lost her before I even got started.

  “I see the situation fine. You need to listen to me,” I said. “There’s been a crime.”

  Mom stood and I could see the effort she was making to pull herself together. “I’m sorry you came all the way out here, Officer Siegel. I think Kalah’s concerns are something we should explore as a family, and with her doctor. If there’s anything we need to share with the police, I can assure you we’ll do that.”

  Officer Siegel stood too. “Of course.” She squeezed my shoulder as she passed me. “I’ll see you at school.”

  My dad and I didn’t say anything while we waited for Mom to return. I felt tracks of hot tears cutting down my face.

  When Mom came in she sat on the ottoman right next to my chair. She took both my hands in hers. “We’re going to help you through this.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t believe me. You think I’m crazy.” Bitterness soured my voice.

  Dad came over. “It’s not that we don’t believe that this feels real for you.”

  “It feels real because it is real,” I said.

  “Honey, sometimes you see things that aren’t there,” Mom said, her voice soft.

  I sucked in a breath. No matter how softly she said it, it was still a low blow. “This was nothing like that. I’m not crazy.”

  “I said that the wrong way. I’m not saying you’re hallucinating. You’re not. I’m saying you’re sensitive. You always have been. You might have misread the situation. Misunderstood motivations. Then you started to fill in the missing information with a worst-case scenario and suddenly it’s overwhelming.”

  “It’s not like that,” I said.

  “You lost your two best friends,” Mom said. “Of course you’re grieving. And grief can make even the most healthy, stable mind do wild things. The heart too.”

  “We’ll make you an appointment with Dr. Sherman,” Dad said. “And we’ll keep talking together. We’re glad you told us.”

  I stood. I should have known I’d never be free of my past.

  At my old school there had been a girl in my class who I’d thought was my friend. But being Madison’s friend was like pledging a sorority. She put me through test after test—hazing me, really—to make me prove how much I wanted to be near her. And when I’d passed all the tests, she’d laughed in my face and humiliated me in front of everyone.

  I wasn’t her friend; I was her puppet. And when she pulled all my strings, they’d snapped.

  That’s when I’d started having panic attacks, needing to count things, and tapping to feel calm. It got so bad, my parents noticed, and sent me to see Dr. Sherman. In the end, my parents and Dr. Sherman made the decision to have me change schools so I could have a fresh start. But a fresh start didn’t mean they believed I was stable.

  I needed proof.

  “Hey.” My dad caught my elbow and made me turn around. “Whatever’s happening, I want to make sure you know this. Your mom and I love you. We will always be here for you. We supported you before, and we’ll support you now.”

  I nodded and they both hugged me. “I love you guys too,” I said.

  I could feel them staring at my back as I went upstairs. They loved me, but they didn’t believe me. Just like before. They never saw me as bullied. They believed the school administrator, who’d made it sound like I’d stalked Madison, made a whole relationship up in my head, and done crazy things to get her attention. That I’d basically chased her down, stuck to her side. Been a groupie until she’d been forced to be mean to get rid of me.

  It wasn’t like that. That hadn’t been a figment of my imagination. And this wasn’t either.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Trying to act normal was exhausting. My parents kept me home from school and I spent all day pretending to be regular, everyday Kalah. Every word felt practiced and scripted before it left my mouth. I talked about getting back to field hockey. How I would feel better when I got back to my routine.

  My parents visibly relaxed as the day went on. It wasn’t that they were stupid; it was that they wanted to believe I was going to be all right. They were willing to suspend disbelief because cooperating with my lie was easier than dealing with the truth. Just because they wanted to believe I was okay, that didn’t mean it would be easy for me. I was going to have to keep up this charade for days, maybe weeks. If I made too much of a change too quickly, they would be suspicious. That’s why I snapped at my dad over lunch when he finished all the deli turkey, and stormed upstairs to my room. Let them think I was still high-strung.

  I hadn’t slept much the night before. Sleep was becoming an elusive luxury. One I fantasized about, but nothing I hoped to actually obtain. I’d lain in bed and wanted to work up a rage at my parents for not believing me, but if I was objective, I couldn’t blame them. All I had was a story. A bizarre story. If I heard
it from someone else I wouldn’t have believed it either.

  I had to find proof that Brit was still alive. Something that would make people listen. To actually hear me. Even once the DNA tests proved the body was Beth’s, that didn’t mean they’d believe me that Brit wasn’t also dead. I had to lure her back.

  I sent her a message. You free for a talk? I had a huge fight with my parents. Could really use a friend.

  As soon as she replied, I would print out the message. I thought about changing my password, but if Britney wasn’t already suspicious of what I knew, she would be if I did that. I had to act normal. I had to act like things were fine.

  I glanced at the clock and wondered if I should send another message to say it was urgent. We were heading out for dinner soon. It was Dad’s idea. My mom wasn’t a total vegetarian—she’d eat the occasional bite of chicken or fish, but our house was a no-red-meat zone. If my dad wanted to fulfill his cravings for steak, he had to do it at a restaurant. I wouldn’t be able to check my phone while out with them. I’d be too busy playing my starring role: happy, healthy daughter at loving family dinner.

  I checked the online news feeds. I was turning into an addict looking for a hit, bracing for news that Beth’s body had been officially identified. Maybe when that happened they’d start searching for Britney. But most likely, when the news hit, Brit would just vanish.

  I had to hunt her down before that.

  I rooted through my bag and found the business card the reporter, Derek, had given me. I flicked the edge with my fingernail. The first time I’d met him outside the school, he’d hinted how he wasn’t crazy about popular girls. He’d wanted dirt on Brit.

  I put his name into the search bar. He was a freelance writer. His articles appeared mostly in local papers around the state, but he had at least a few in national magazines. His bio at the end of the articles described him as an investigative reporter.

  “Five minutes! Or we’ll be late for our reservation,” Dad yelled from downstairs.

  I flicked the card. Maybe I didn’t need to find Brit myself. Maybe Derek would do it. All he needed was a nudge in the right direction. This was his job. He was a trained professional.