“Mason Sisken.”
I don’t respond.
“Was she right?” His pen is poised to write down whatever I say.
“She was misinformed.”
“What would make her think you and Mason were together?”
“I don’t know.” My eyes glance over at the wall with the door. “You’ll have to ask her.”
“Well, Lauren, we can’t exactly do that now, can we?” He leans back across the table, his hands folded like he’s begging me to come up with something that he can use. “Think. What would make her accuse you of something like that? Were you alone with him at some point?”
The memory of the kiss hits me hard in the gut. Mason and I had gone to the F.U. Fort, a rotted plywood lean-to that got its name from the words spray-painted on the outside wall. It’s in the woods behind the high school, and it’s held together with bailing twine, chewing gum, and the prayers of blunt-smoking dropouts.
As little kids we thought it was really scandalous. We whispered about it. The big kids drank sloe gin back there. Mason and I hadn’t been drinking when we went. I don’t even know how we ended up there. I mean, not exactly.
“Lauren?”
“I’m sorry. What was the question?”
“Were you alone with Mason at some point? What would make Kadence think something had happened between you and him?”
I suck on the inside of my cheek. “I don’t know. Maybe because that’s the kind of thing she would do with someone else’s boyfriend, so it was easy for her to assume that someone would do it to her?” Snarky. I sound snarky, and I doubt it’s helping.
“Kadence fooled around with other people’s boyfriends?”
“Sometimes.”
“Can you give me any names of those other people?”
“There was this one girl? Mary? She moved to a different school though.”
“Did Mason know about any of this?”
I pause and hold my breath, weighing my words. I’m not such an idiot that I don’t see my opportunity when it comes. Mason had no trouble pointing the finger at me by telling the detective about the fight—that is, if he was the one who told. Well, ever heard of payback? I could do the same to him. Who doesn’t like a jealous boyfriend as the prime suspect? People eat that tabloid crap for breakfast.
But…I can’t do that to him. I tried to tell him once about Kadence cheating, but he never believed me. Mason is sweet and a little naive. If he’s the one who told Kopitzke about the fight, I’m sure he wasn’t being malicious. He probably thought he was being helpful.
I shake my head. “No. I don’t think so.”
“So what happened in this fight between you and Kadence?”
I toss my arms up in the air, and they fall into my lap with a slap. “I told you it wasn’t a fight. We were friends. She yelled at me in the cafeteria for a bit, then it was over. I apologized.”
“Apologized for what? I thought you said nothing happened.”
“I apologized for whatever she thought had happened. That was how it was between us. She got upset about something, and I apologized to smooth things over. Then we moved on.”
“Some of your classmates said she pushed you.”
“She didn’t.” Even as I say the words, I remember the feeling of staggering backwards, tripping on a stool. Banging my head against the floor. I sway a little in my chair.
“Was there any physical contact between the two of you?”
“She might have put her hands on my shoulders.”
“What did you do in response to that?”
“I twisted away. Like this.” I demonstrate. Crap. I’m doing that thing again, letting him lead me down that road I was talking about before. I’ve already said too much. I need to stop. If I wanted to hurt Kadence, it wouldn’t be because she grabbed my shoulders and shook me around on Taco Tuesday. I have wayyy more material to work with than that.
“But she didn’t push you. Not even by accident?”
“Well, maybe by accident. When I was trying to twist away from her, maybe I got knocked off balance.”
“That sounds pretty physical. Putting her hands on you. Are you sure there was nothing going on with you and Mason?”
I stare him down. This guy would not let up. “I told you. There was nothing going on between me and Mason. There is nothing going on between me and Mason. Are we done yet? Can I go home?”
“As I said, you aren’t under arrest. These are just some friendly questions. You are free to go whenever you want.”
“Then I’d like to go now.” I push my chair back and start to stand.
“One more thing.” He raises a hand, and a second later a woman in a white shirt and black low-rise pants comes in. She has a badge hooked to her waistband. She sets a clear plastic bag on the center of the table. The bag is marked evidence with a bunch of numbers, and there’s a piece of wide yellow tape with the words do not break seal printed on it. But more than any of that, I am transfixed by what is inside the bag. It’s a green Cuppa Cuppa uniform shirt.
Slowly, I sink back into my chair. “Where did you get that?”
“From the garbage bin at your house,” the woman says.
My eyebrows shoot up. “You can’t go through our garbage.” I’m impressed by how calm I manage to keep my voice, but my heart is crashing against my rib cage.
“Actually,” she says, “we can.”
I stare at them both. They’ve got to be kidding me. Why is this happening?
The woman leaves and Detective Kopitzke flips the bag over. There’s a bloodstain on the shirt. It’s not big, but it’s enough. My forehead prickles as I break into a cold sweat.
“Do you mind telling me how this blood got on this shirt?” he asks. “And while we’re on it, how it ended up in your trash?”
I can tell that they’ve already determined it’s Kadence’s blood. My mind scrambles to explain it convincingly. “It was an accident,” I say, my already fragile voice shaking.
“What was an accident? Exactly.”
My hand trembles as I raise it to my mouth and bite at a hangnail. “Kady cut her hand packing up her gear when she left the coffee shop Friday night. I said I’d get her a paper towel but”—I swallow loudly—“but she just used one of the old uniform shirts that were piled up at the end of the bar. Charlie wanted me to trash them when I finished closing because we got a new color for spring, and they’d just come in. I only took the shirts home because the…um…the dumpster at work was overflowing that night.”
“So what’s the color of the new spring shirt?” he asks, cutting me off, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
“Um…I don’t know.” Then I add, “Yet.”
When a look crosses his face that tells me I’m confirming all his suspicions, I start talking fast. “That’s only because Charlie screwed up the order, and the logos were all wrong. He had to send them back.” Damn that pot-smoking dumb ass Charlie. If I’m in trouble because of him…so help me…
“Your boss…That’s Charlie Horn?” Detective Kopitzke writes his name down on the notepad.
“Right.”
Detective Kopitzke’s mouth torques. “Do you know what Kadence cut her hand on?”
“Not exactly. It happened in the parking lot when she was loading her car. An amp or something? Some loose piece of metal? I don’t know.”
“Well, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
I can’t tell if he believes me or not. “Yes, it is. Can I go now?”
“Yes, you can go. Please stay in town though. We’ll likely have more questions.” He looks at me in a way that makes my stomach sour. “Oh, and Lauren? Kadence’s parents have asked for a press conference this evening. Are you willing to participate? I’m sure it would be a great comfort to them to have you there.”
Aft
er all he’s practically accused me of, I can’t imagine why he’d want to have me there, but saying no doesn’t sound like a good idea, and as always, yes came more easily. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”
When he escorts me through the door, Mom and Dad are sitting on the bench in the hallway. They both stand together like they’ve been propelled from their seats.
“Is she done?” Dad asks. He wraps his arms around me, and I have a flicker of calm.
“I hope she was of some help,” Mom says.
I roll my eyes and pull out of Dad’s hug. “I’m hungry,” I say, which makes them all turn their heads toward me with the same strange expression. Why do I keep saying exactly the wrong thing?
“Of course, honey,” Mom says. “You’re all worn out. She hasn’t been sleeping.” She addresses this last comment to Detective Kopitzke. I want to kick her. What will he make of that? “She misses Kadence so much,” Mom adds.
Detective Kopitzke and I exchange a look. “Six o’clock,” he says. “Be back here by then.”
“What do you want me to say?” I ask.
Detective Kopitzke stares at me for a few seconds. Then he says, “When someone is missing, most people ask the viewers to call in with any tip or information they might have. In some cases they ask for their loved one’s safe return.”
Oh, I think. Duh. Why didn’t I think of that? Detective Kopitzke’s looking at me like he’s wondering the same thing.
Ten
Mason
Sheriff’s Office—The Interview
Monday, April 2
11:00 a.m.
I pull into the parking lot outside the sheriff’s department. It’s one place I never thought I’d have reason to be. I wasn’t even sure how to get here at first. I turn off the ignition and put my keys in my pocket. Even though I’m alone, it’s humiliating how bad my hands are shaking. I need to be strong for Kady.
The thought of someone touching her makes my stomach turn with the same sour spin it’s been doing since I left the rink two nights ago. Going around with her dad, handing out fliers yesterday…it felt like I was at least doing something. They need to find her. I need to find her.
I get out of my car and a gust of air lifts a greasy hamburger wrapper from the floor of my otherwise immaculate truck. Brady, I think. Goddamnit, Brady. My friends know they aren’t supposed to leave their food garbage in here. Sometimes I think they do it on purpose just to get me worked up. Normally I’d be pissed seeing that wrapper flutter around, then settle on the seat, but right now I can’t think about anything but Kady.
Once inside the sheriff’s department, I am directed to a small room. There’s a table. And a tiny tape recorder. It looks old.
“I’m Detective Kopitzke,” says a short, muscled man. He directs me toward a chair on one side of the table. “I’m going to be asking you some questions.”
He pushes the record button on the tape recorder and that’s when it begins. Though the way he talks, I have this terrible feeling that it’s already the end. Kady, I think. Kady.
Kopitzke: When did you first meet Kadence Mulligan?
The question is so basic, so inconsequential, that I’m not sure how to answer. Did anyone ever just meet Kady? More like, everyone knew who she was the moment she walked into a room. It wasn’t like there ever needed to be a formal introduction.
Mason: How does this help us find her?
Kopitzke: It helps to have a full picture of who she is.
I take a deep breath and give him the benefit of the doubt.
Mason: We met two years ago during our sophomore year.
Kopitzke: At school.
Mason: Not exactly. I met her in my little sisters’ playroom.
Kopitzke (laughing): Not what I was expecting.
Mason: It was a Saturday morning. I was playing tea party with my little sisters, Annabel and Meredith. They’re twins…
The detective raises his eyebrows at me, and I bite my lip. Heat rushes into my cheeks at the memory because that morning I was dressed in my usual Saturday morning clothes: a floppy, pink hat and a feather boa.
I was the only sophomore on the varsity hockey team back then. If any of my older teammates had seen me, I would never have lived it down. Still, I did whatever I could to make my little sisters happy. Translation, tea parties.
Mason: Then Mom woke up and came into the playroom…
I can picture her so clearly. Her bathrobe was cinched tightly around her waist, and her hair looked like birds had been trying to nest in it all night.
Mason: That’s when the doorbell rang. Mom answered it. A few minutes later she came back and said, “You have company.” And it was Kady.
Kopitzke: Had Kadence Mulligan ever come to your house before?
Mason: Never.
Kopitzke: That must have been an interesting morning for you. I don’t think any girls ever spontaneously visited me when I was in high school.
Mason: With Kady, things are always interesting.
In fact, thinking back, it had taken me a second to process what Mom was even saying. Kadence Mulligan was at our door?
My first thought was Why? But then I remembered something my lab partner said during biology when the varsity roster was posted: You being the only sophomore on the team is going to get you a lot of tail. Girls eat that crap up. And you know who loves a high profile more than anybody.
Who? I’d asked.
He’d narrowed his eyes at me. I’m just saying, if you get Kadence Mulligan’s attention, you’re set for life, my friend.
I thought he was blowing smoke up my ass. Not that I’d had any trouble with girls in the past, but Kadence Mulligan?
I swallow hard. Why haven’t they found her yet? What are they doing to find her? I think Kady’s dad might be right. They’re not doing enough. They’re not taking this seriously enough. These questions are pointless. They don’t even have modern recording devices. But I don’t say any of that to the detective.
Mason: Yeah. Kady’s like on another plane from the rest of us. Another stratosphere.
Kopitzke: Oh, come on. A good-looking guy like you? Smart. Athletic. Nice too? I’ve done my homework. Asked around. One girl we talked to called you the “total package.” I’m not surprised Kadence Mulligan would be interested in you.
I shake my head and once again fight back the blood that’s rushing into my cheeks. Kopitzke has it all wrong. I’m not all that, and I was completely surprised by Kady’s interest. From the moment I saw her leaning against the door frame to my sisters’ playroom, I was like, call it a day, signed, sealed, DE-livered. I was all in for this girl. I think my mouth may have even been hanging open.
I can still remember exactly what Kady looked like, standing there in that doorway, and I swear my heart knew it was in serious trouble. Because there I was, wearing a feather boa and holding a teacup to my lips. Pinky out.
Eleven
Jude
Pine Grove High School
Monday, April 2
1:30 p.m.
“Hey, man, you heard about that DeSanto chick?” Elliot asks as he takes a long drag on his smoke and offers it to Ari, an Asian girl who dresses like a goth-meets-anime-gamer chick. Black lipstick and heavy eye makeup crap, but then with pigtails, short skirts, and knee socks. Elliot’s a big fan of the short skirts, though most the time he’s not dumb enough to say this within her hearing.
A small group of us, maybe eight or so, are out here in the woods. We’re all skipping class for a smoke break. I don’t know any of them well enough to call them friends, but they’re cool enough to hang with.
Elliot’s question catches my attention, but I’m careful not to let anyone see. Ari takes the smoke from Elliot, all the while giving me her best do-me eyes from where she’s leaning against the wall of the F.U. Fort. I ignore her.
The F.
U. Fort’s the best place to go when you need a smoke away from the prying eyes of teachers. It’s total BS, since most of us are eighteen and a couple months away from graduating. But hey, whatever makes this purgatory pass quicker, right?
I take a slow drag of my own cigarette and wait for Elliot to say more. I like the way the smoke warms my lungs. My mom’s always telling me these things will kill me. I think it’s the hypocrisy of her telling me not to dump chemicals into my body that makes me smoke just to spite her. If she stays clean three whole years without any relapses, maybe then I’ll stop. Or maybe that’s just an excuse and by then I’ll blame it on an addictive personality. Which I also inherited from her. Nice how that works, ain’t it?
“Oh yeah.” Ari jumps in. “Heard she totally offed her friend. Lost her voice and it made her go all psycho bitch.” She raises her arm and starts making the discordant Psycho music noise as she slashes downward several times.
“Shut up, guys.” My spine is stiff as I look around at the others. Only a few other than Elliot and Ari look my way.
“Chill out, man.” Elliot laughs. “Everyone’s been talking about it. Have you been skipping all your classes? I know you like to keep your head down and do your whole loner thing, but dude. It’s all anyone is talking about.”
I clench my jaw and force myself to keep calm. Damn it. What’s wrong with me? This is good. Couldn’t have worked out better. Kadence is out of the picture, and Lauren’s being blamed for it. I shift uncomfortably and toss my smoke to the ground, grinding it under my foot. Then I scrub both my hands over my face. Everything feels wrong.
“What are they all saying?” I ask.
“Rumor is that Lauren was the last one to see Kady before she disappeared,” Ari says, perking up. For a goth chick, she’s just as into gossip as most girls I’ve ever met. I’d swear she’s about to start leaning in and flipping her hair. “And that they’ve been total rivals since Lauren lost her voice. Then there was the big blowup in the cafeteria about Lauren trying to steal Kady’s boyfriend. Were you there that day?”
“Heard about it. Wasn’t there.” I take half days on Tuesdays and Thursdays to go work at the garage.
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