Girl Last Seen

by Brown, Anne Greenwood; Anastasiu, Heather;

  Outside, the evening air is cool and full of energy. I don’t work so hard to hide the knife now. I let it slip out of my sleeve, catching the handle in my palm before it drops to the driveway. The streetlight glints off the blade. I shiver, and not because it’s cold as all hell.

  I won’t need it, I tell myself. It’s only a precaution.

  For a second I think I hear something. Not a car, not a jogger, but…something. But I’m being paranoid. It’s Saturday night and already dark; people in my neighborhood are settled in for the night. I am alone.

  I pull the car out of the driveway and head out of the cul-de-sac, taking a left at the road that will take me nearly all the way to the warehouse, which is along the river. I was there once before when Kadence took me along to scout music video locations last summer. We couldn’t get inside, and when I brought up permissions and the permits we’d need to get, Kady just rolled her eyes at me.

  It’s only a mile by the way the crow flies, but at least a fifteen-minute drive with the number of stop signs and curvy meanderings this road will take. That’s fine. It gives me a little time to think. It gives me time to come up with a Plan B in case Plan A is, like, capital C catastrophic. Either way, if I’m right and Kadence is at the warehouse, her little hideaway attention-seeking stunt is coming to an end. Tonight.

  I’m less than two blocks from home when a car behind me flashes its high beams. It shines in my rearview mirror. Jerk, I think, and adjust the mirror so I’m not totally blinded. A few more turns, a few more stops, and I pull into the convenience-store parking lot that’s across the street from the empty warehouse—a two-story brick building with boarded-up windows.

  Tall clumps of grass grow through the cracks in its darkened parking lot, which is dimly lit with a light mounted at each rooftop corner of the building. So I guess the owner has maintained some electrical power.

  I should feel some kind of validation. Power means Kady could have made her videos here. But now that I’ve arrived, my confidence begins to wane. What am I supposed to do now that I’m here? Do I go in? It’s hard to picture Kady being in there. I’m even a little embarrassed by how overly dramatic I’ve made this whole thing. What was I thinking, bringing a knife? This seemed like a much better idea an hour ago. In fact, the warehouse gives me a serious case of the creeps. Like horror movie, only-an-idiot-with-a-bad-script-would-go-in-there kind of creeps.

  A half hour passes. Maybe more. I check my phone. Okay, it’s been more, and the only thing I’ve seen is a raccoon climbing into a dumpster. Then another fifteen minutes and I still haven’t worked up the courage to go inside.

  A homeless person shuffles around the far corner of the building, arms loaded with bags. At first I think it’s a woman because the body moves gracefully, but then I notice the short dark hair and realize it’s just a really skinny man.

  I’m about to check my phone again, when the vagrant puts his hand on the warehouse door handle. He turns to look over his shoulder, as if he’s afraid of being followed. It’s the level of wariness that catches my attention.

  The second thing I notice is his backpack, and my heart stutters in my chest.

  I would know it anywhere because I was the one who picked it out for Kadence before school started this year. It’s turquoise and lime green, the colors she would have painted her room if her parents would have let her. It’s completely recognizable.

  That skinny homeless man has Kadence’s backpack! What the hell? Suddenly my thoughts are going a mile a minute. Things that didn’t make sense. Yes, Kadence did like to go strange places to camp. And yeah, she did like publicity. But this would have been excessive, even for her. And there’s another explanation. She could have made those videos the same night she hurt her eye. What if she recorded them after the concert at Cuppa Cuppa, then put them in the F.U. Fort?

  Maybe that’s even when she was grabbed. A hundred new scenarios are playing out in my head—all with Kadence as victim instead of as the wicked witch.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if I wasn’t the only one she talked to about making a music video here. Or what if she did come out here alone, thinking herself as invincible as always? Something could have easily gone wrong. If someone grabbed her, stole her stuff, hurt her…

  Like this man with her backpack. Is she still in the warehouse? Is she still…alive?

  I grab the knife that I’d laid down on the seat beside me. My breathing picks up. How quickly my thoughts turn from protecting myself from Kadence to protecting her from this strange man.

  Without thinking, I slip the knife up my sleeve and step out of the car.

  That’s when Jude appears.

  Quickly, so quickly I don’t know what’s happening, he grabs the car keys from my hand and pushes me back inside my car. Just like earlier, he joins me, forcing me to slide over. He slams the door behind himself.

  I sit—paralyzed with shock. A glance in my rearview mirror shows his dad’s truck parked at the end of the lot directly behind me. “You followed me.”

  “You brought a knife?” he asks without glancing down. He must have felt it when he was shoving me so unceremoniously into the car.

  I turn toward the windshield, eyes flicking back to the warehouse. I’ve got to get inside. Kady could be in there. “It’s not what you think,” I say, my voice trembling.

  Thirty-Two

  Jude

  The Warehouse Parking Lot

  Saturday, April 7

  8:45 p.m.

  “Lauren.” I scrub my hands through my hair. “Christ, Lauren, you can’t do this.” I look through the windshield at the warehouse. Before I let Lauren see who or what’s behind that door, I’ve gotta tell her everything. She has to know before it’s too late. Revenge won’t get her anywhere. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “Jude, there’s no time—” She reaches for the door handle, but I put a hand on her forearm to stop her. I feel the knife, hard under her sleeve. Mother of Christ.

  “Lauren”—my voice is heated—“this is hard enough for me to say, and you’ve gotta listen.” I take a deep breath. She still seems impatient, but she waits for me to finish.

  “There’s something I haven’t told you,” I repeat. “After you made fun of the gift I worked so hard on, that dumb phoenix thing, which God, I know now you never even got”—I plow on before she can try to leave the car again—“but when you said those things over the loudspeaker…”

  “Jude.” Her eyes are pained. “I never meant—” She breaks off and reaches over to squeeze my hand. I force myself to meet her gaze. She’s so beautiful. So open. The way she’s looking at me…like she sees me, like she sees something in me, something worthy.

  I squeeze her hand back, probably too hard. Then I pull away, ’cause I can’t handle her pulling away first. And that’s exactly what she’ll do in about ten point two seconds once she hears all I have to say. I swallow and continue.

  “And then everyone started bullying me. It was a bad time.” We both know that’s an understatement. She doesn’t know just how much, and I don’t ever want her to know how bad it was.

  I look out the window. “When I moved to my mom’s, I was so angry.” Crap, I don’t even know how to explain it. “Really, really angry. And then when I went on this intense medicine that cleared up my skin, people were treating me better all of a sudden, like at school and stuff. But it was still there. All that anger. More than I’d ever felt before. I thought I hated you.”

  She winces again and now I try to go on as quickly as I can. She has to know that I get her impulse to grab that knife. That the darkness in me calls to the darkness in her. Maybe she’ll be able to forgive me and we can both just drive away from here.

  “I know it wasn’t you I hated. I get that now.” I laugh humorlessly. “I learned a lot of crap the hard way this year. I—” My words are fumbling again, but I know there’
s a big idea here. God, I need her to understand. Please let her understand. “That’s what hate does. It makes you think it’s all about someone else. But really, it’s only in you, like, feeding on itself. But it’s a fucking parasite. Eating you alive. That’s what it did to me anyway.”

  Her brows knit in confusion. Crap, I’m rambling, probably not making any sense. It’s time to just say it.

  “I saw those music videos on YouTube of you and Kadence doing so great, saw how many hits you were getting, millions of them. You were like some kind of sensation or something. And it pissed me off even more. I was so angry that you were both doing so well when I was still miserable. The medicine I was taking can have these bad side effects. Like mental, emotional side effects. It was making me a little off. Even more angry.” I take a quick breath. “So I wanted to come back here because I wanted revenge. And Ren, I don’t want you to make the same mistake. You’ve gotta understand that before you walk into that building.”

  When I look back at Lauren, her eyes aren’t sorrowful and empathetic anymore. No. They’re wide. Jesus Christ. She’s afraid of me.

  “What did you do, Jude?”

  “I never meant for things to go as far as they did,” I say quickly. “I swear to you.”

  “What. Did. You. Do?” Her grip is tight on the knife again, and she’s moving her body closer to the door. And I can’t say I blame her.

  I sag against my own door. “It was the night before one of your concerts last fall. I see how stupid it was now. So freaking dangerous. I wasn’t thinking. Didn’t realize…” I squeeze my eyes shut in pain.

  “What did you do?” she rasps.

  “I poisoned you,” I blurt out. Damn it, that wasn’t how I meant to say it. Not so blunt.

  “You…” Her voice is trembling. “You what?”

  I reach for her, but she pulls back. So I try words instead. “I got detention for smoking on school property. As part of my detention I had to work in the cafeteria for a week. It was spaghetti-and-meatball day, and I knew you didn’t like that and would go for the sandwich option.”

  “Jude…”

  “It was this stupid split-second decision. The lunch lady had told me earlier to toss out a packet of chicken that had accidentally been left out overnight, but I hadn’t done it yet. When I saw you coming, I pulled out one of those slices and put it on your sandwich real quick.”

  I rush on when she doesn’t say anything, just stares at me open mouthed. “I swear I only meant to make your lunch taste like shit. Maybe make you throw up, at the most. I was so mad and messed up back then. I don’t know if that’s an excuse, the meds I was on—but I swear I was only trying to ruin your day, not your life.”

  The words are tumbling over themselves as I try to get them all out at once. “I never meant for you to have to go to the hospital or to get your stomach pumped, or God, for your throat to get infected.” I cringe at the words coming out of my mouth. “I swear, if I had known, I never would’ve done it. It was stupid, just a horrible decision I made in the spur of the moment.” My voice breaks. I can see the horror overtaking her face. Her eyes flick back to the warehouse and then widen again as she brings them back to me.

  I have no idea what she’s thinking, but before I can say anything more, she’s reaching for the door.

  “Please, wait, no! I never meant for—” But she’s already out and sprinting into the night. Away from me.

  I follow her out of the car and shout, “Wait, stop! I swear, Lauren! I would never hurt you again. Come back, it’s too cold out here. Please come back!”

  I run in the direction I think she went, but it’s so dark it’s hard to tell. I pause, trying to listen for her footsteps. Damn it. I still have her keys. This is a horrible part of town. She can’t be out here by herself. I have to find her.

  Thirty-Three

  Lauren

  The Warehouse Parking Lot

  Saturday, April 7

  9:17 p.m.

  My feet pound against the pavement and the whole time I’m thinking, Why do I keep doing this? Why am I such an idiot? First falling for Kadence’s bullshit and now Jude’s. A moment ago, he was looking at me with so much sorrow and regret that it nearly broke my heart. I totally bought it!

  But it was just another lie. Or…was it? Despite the flicker of doubt, I don’t slow my steps.

  Jude said he didn’t mean for everything to happen, but he still meant for me to get food poisoning! My voice is still ruined!

  Even if it was just a…What did he call it? A “stupid split-second decision,” he’s still a liar. His voice echoes in my head: I wanted revenge.

  A tremor of fear ripples through me, and I keep running.

  I thought I’d finally figured out who to trust, but I’ve had it all backwards. I’m no better at reading people or situations than I ever was. I don’t know where I’m going, only that I need to get away from Jude. I can’t trust him. He seemed so sincere back in the truck, but there’s no more room for mistakes. I’ve spent the last four years side by side with the best actress around. What if Jude’s just more of the same?

  My feet pound against the pavement, sounding like slap, slap, slap. Oh my God, what if Jude did have something to do with Kady’s disappearance and he’s working with the man inside the warehouse who had Kady’s backpack? I feel like I’m losing my mind.

  My breaths come in even quicker pants as I duck behind a brick building, then glance around frantically to make sure I haven’t trapped myself in some dead-end alleyway. I’m at least two blocks away now, and I stop to catch my breath.

  There aren’t any footsteps behind me. Did I really lose Jude, or is he still out there looking for me? If he is, how am I supposed to get back to the warehouse?

  I shiver, even though I’m sweating under my jacket. I squeeze my eyes tight and let the tears run down my cheeks. My palms press against the damp brick. My fingernails dig into the rough facade. I need to go back. I still need to go into that warehouse, but I know now that I can’t do it alone.

  I should call the cops. I should call my parents! I dial Mom’s number but it goes to voice mail. JJ! He always has his phone on him. I’m about to dial again when my fingers freeze over the keypad.

  But what if I’m wrong about all of this? I’ve been wrong before. Maybe that skinny guy found Kady’s backpack somewhere. Crap. I can’t keep a coherent thought in my head. If I call the cops, or even JJ or my parents (who will call the cops), I’d be putting myself and Jude back in the middle of the storm again. Jude was just let out of jail. Despite everything he confessed, do I do that to him again?

  All this time, I’ve been swearing that I’m not the girl I used to be. I can think independently. I don’t judge people. Or…at least I don’t jump to conclusions without giving people a chance. I’m all about healthy living, for God’s sake! I’m scared. Maybe even scared of him. But that moment of self-doubt has me changing my plans. I don’t call the cops. I don’t call my parents again, or JJ. I call Mason.

  “Lauren?”

  “Mason,” I say, still short of breath.

  “Lauren, are you all right?”

  “I-I might have f-found Kadence.”

  “What?” he asks, his tone as confused as I feel. “Where are you? Is she all right?”

  “I don’t know.” I’m crying now. “Mason? Mason, can you come get me?”

  “Lauren, you’re freaking me out. Did you say you found Kadence?”

  “Can you please come?” My hand shoots inside my jacket pocket, and I’m relieved to find that the knife is still there.

  “Shit, Lauren, where are you? Should I call 911?”

  “Three blocks north of the Kwik Trip. On Cherry Street. Over by the river. Just you though, Mason. No cops.”

  “We have to call the cops.”

  “Please. If I’m right, I promise we’ll call them right
away, but if I’m wrong it’ll make things worse. They’ll start questioning me again. I can’t handle that. Please, Mason.”

  He swears under his breath because he knows I’m right. “Fine, Lauren. If you’re sure. No cops. Not yet anyway. How do I find you?”

  “Text me when you’re close to the Kwik Trip.”

  “I’m already in my car,” Mason says, his voice soothing, but I can hear the tension behind his words. “Ten minutes. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  But it’s fifteen minutes by the time Mason’s text comes through, saying that he’s close. It’s so dark that I’m at the passenger door before Mason even sees me. He gives a little jump, then he unlocks the door and I slip inside.

  There are food bags and candy wrappers on the floor. I know him well enough that in any other circumstance he’d be apologizing for the mess—he hates it when his friends leave their garbage in his truck—but now is not the time for apologies. Both of us are freaking out. The thought of someone having Kady, hurting her…I hope Jude got frustrated and took off.

  “Where is she?” Mason asks immediately.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I think the old warehouse,” I rasp, my voice even rougher than usual from crying.

  Mason doesn’t react. He just drives to the empty lot and throws his truck in park. We don’t bother to be inconspicuous. Jude’s truck is gone.

  “I think we can get in over there,” I say, indicating the door. Mason grabs me by the hand and drags me at a run toward the door. There is a small crack where it didn’t latch properly and we step inside. It’s dark and we both pull out our phones to use as makeshift flashlights.

  With my other hand, I wrap my fingers around the handle of the knife.

  What I can see of the floors are nasty, so I try not to look too closely. It stinks in here, like pee and sour garbage and I don’t know what else. Broken crates and other trash are stacked high against some of the walls and in the corners. Mason puts his finger to his lips as we listen for any sound of movement. After a few moments there is a soft shuffle. A foot in the dust, a turn of a page, a bird’s wings.