The Hanging Girl

by Eileen Cook

  “Oh, thank god she’s safe.” She wrapped her arms around herself as if it was cold.

  “Why did they take her?” Detective Chan asked.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I have no sense of the kidnappers. Why they did it, or even where they are now, is a big blank.” I wanted to end the meeting, but I needed to put the final nail in the coffin. Something that would make the judge certain he couldn’t afford to ignore me. I turned to him. “I have this image of Paige worrying about you. Her giving you a hard time about something. Smoking, I think.”

  His already pale face turned a whiter shade.

  “But Donald doesn’t smoke.” Ms. Bonnet looked confused. “He hasn’t for years. Paige would have been a toddler when he gave it up.”

  His Adam’s apple bounced up and down in his throat. Busted. Detective Chan noticed it too. He glanced down at the judge’s hands.

  “It probably doesn’t mean anything.” I let him off the hook. He’d know it was accurate, that’s all that mattered. He was the one I needed to convince.

  “We’re going to need you to come back to the station to look at the list we asked you to draw up of anyone who might have cause to do you harm,” Detective Chan said. “We’ve pulled the records of people you’ve sentenced over the years.”

  “Oh god,” Ms. Bonnet mumbled. “If one of those monsters has our baby—”

  The judge sniffed. “I know my work has a cost, but I never dreamed my family would pay the price for my service. If something happens to my baby girl . . .” He shook his head rapidly, like a dog shaking off after a bath.

  “I wish someone would just ask for money, then we could just pay it and get our little girl back.” Ms. Bonnet started crying again.

  I blinked, watching her fall apart, but it felt like it was happening at a distance. My skin prickled, each nerve twitching. Of course there was a ransom request. That was part of the plan—heck, it was the entire point of the plan. Pluto would have asked for the money by now. Yesterday at the latest. If he didn’t, he would have reached out to me. This was supposed to be ending soon. I’d assumed part of the reason the cops had brought me in today was to try and figure out if Paige was still alive before the cash was handed over, but I was pretty sure they weren’t playacting for my benefit—they had no idea that there was a ransom.

  Judge Bonnet didn’t meet my eyes. My internal antennae went on alert as I studied his face. If he knew about the ransom request, why hadn’t he told his wife or the cops? Why would he keep it a secret? The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  Jay leaned forward. “Don’t worry. We’ve got the full support of the FBI on this case. We can pull them in if needed, but the most important thing is Paige’s safety. Everyone in the department has her as the top priority.”

  “It’s also possible that some other random nutjob will ask for money to take advantage of the situation,” the judge pointed out. “Someone could see the story on TV and try and figure out what they could gain.”

  Ms. Bonnet shook her head sadly. “Who would do something that sick?”

  “Lots of sick people out there.” Detective Chan tapped his pen on the blank pad of paper he’d brought with him. The faint thwack, thwack, thwack was driving me crazy.

  I wanted to tell them that the ransom was legit. I could have a vision about it. I realized I was sitting at the edge of my seat and forced myself to ease back. I shouldn’t look too invested in the money. Getting the payout wasn’t my responsibility. That was Pluto’s job.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring my girl home.” The judge surveyed the table as if he expected one of us to argue with him. “Anything. I’ll have my people arrange a few more media opportunities. We need to make sure we keep this front and center in the news, in case someone knows something. You never know when someone might choose to come forward with information if their memory is jogged. I want to meet again with the FBI reps; if we need more federal support, I want it brought in as soon as possible, but I also don’t want this to be a case of too many cooks in the kitchen and no one running the show.”

  I mentally scrambled to figure out if there was any way I could bring up ransom. He had to know about it. Maybe he was afraid that if he told the police or his family, they would somehow screw it up. He was the kind of guy who thought he was the only real genius in the room. Maybe he wanted to handle the situation by himself.

  Jesus, what if he went all Rambo and tried to capture the kidnappers on his own? He probably had a handgun. He seemed like the NRA type who might have illusions that he was some kind of action hero with a well-oiled 9mm hidden in his desk. Maybe he thought he was Liam Neeson.

  I swallowed hard. Guns would be bad. Real bad. This was supposed to happen without any trouble. My heart raced, and I refused to let myself consider all the ways it could go south. Imagining disaster wasn’t going to help. The Bonnets had the money to pay. The ransom was stupid low just so it would be easy for them to come up with the money. I had the sense that the walls were creeping in. The smell of lemon Pledge furniture polish mixed with Ms. Bonnet’s perfume was giving me a headache.

  Ms. Bonnet hugged me when we stood to leave. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Talking to you made me feel better.” She wiped her eye with a linen handkerchief. “Closer to Paige. Even for just a second.” She squeezed my hand.

  Guilt poured over my heart like a layer of thick, sticky tar. “She’ll be home soon,” I said. The only problem was I wasn’t sure if I was trying to make her feel better or myself.

  Fourteen

  The detectives drove me back to the station from the Bonnets’. I cringed when I saw my mom in the waiting area. She hadn’t been invited to the house, but it didn’t stop her from getting as close as she could. After being with Ms. Bonnet, I was struck by the contrast between them. My mom’s clothes were pilled and baggy. One wash, and they were already giving up the battle to stay together. It was like the atoms in her clothing were less cohesive than Ms. Bonnet’s. Ms. Bonnet had done her makeup so she didn’t look like she was wearing any. My mom’s makeup was too heavy, and you could see where her hair color was growing out. I was torn between wanting to defend her and wishing I could walk past her like I didn’t know her. The fact that she embarrassed me made me hate myself.

  My mom smiled when she saw us and came over. “How did it go?”

  “Fine.”

  “Were you able to tell them anything?” She glanced at the officers. “If you want me to try too, just let me know. Skye’s new at this. I’ve done readings for years.”

  “Mom, it’s time to go.” I took her elbow and tried to direct her to the door, but her feet were glued to the floor.

  She drew out a business card. There was block print on the front: PSYCHIC SOLUTIONS and our phone number. My face flushed red-hot. They were made out of cheap paper too, from a copy center. You could see the tiny perforations where they had been punched out from a larger sheet. They would fall apart in your pocket or wallet in no time.

  Mom passed cards to each of the detectives. “You can call us for anything. There might be other cases where we can help.”

  “You guys are in business?” Detective Jay’s eyebrows went up.

  I shook my head no when my mom answered, “Yes, but we’d give the police a discounted rate. We want to be helpful.”

  “We’ll keep this close by.” Detective Chan tucked the card into his jacket pocket. “You never know when you might need some extra help,” he said with a tight smile.

  “Exactly.” Mom finally let me drag her out into the parking lot. Once outside, she practically skipped back toward our car. “I had the cards made up this afternoon,” she said. “I got a couple hundred. You can have some too.” She was like a kid at Christmas.

  The smell of hot asphalt and exhaust filled my head. I thought I might get sick. “We’re not going into business together.” I spoke slowly in case the spring heat had melted her brain.

  Mom pouted. “I knew you’d have a bad
attitude. You hate to be wrong.”

  “About what?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You always made fun of psychic abilities, but it’s not a joke now, is it? You had a real prediction about that girl, and if you had one, you could have another.”

  “This was a one-off thing,” I said.

  I turned and started walking the rest of the way to our car. I should have known she would glom on to this. It was dramatic, and there was nothing my mom loved better than some excitement. She was like a moth—when there was a bright light, she would bolt toward it without stopping to figure out if it was moonlight or a bug zapper.

  “The people I spoke to today were interested,” she said.

  My heart seized into a tight fist in the center of my chest. I turned slowly around. “Who did you talk to?” I sent a mental prayer to the universe that I could wind time backwards and take back whatever stupid thing she’d done. A headache built up behind my eyes like a troupe of Kodo drummers.

  She stuck her chin in the air. “I called a few radio stations and some newspaper reporters.”

  My blood turned to ice water. I did my best to remain calm. “What did you tell them?”

  “About our family’s abilities.”

  “Just that?” I wanted to feel relieved, but I knew there was no way I was getting off that easy. My head pounded harder, the vise around my brain tightening, squeezing out rational thought.

  “And about the predictions you made that led to the police finding Paige’s car.”

  The impact of what she’d done exploded in my mind. Oh shit. “Why would you do that? The police didn’t want any of this to be public. They told us to keep it quiet.”

  She sniffed. “So they get all the glory.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “What glory, Mom? There’s no glory. Just a girl who’s missing.”

  “What do you want me to do? People want answers.”

  I kicked a chunk of loose pavement and sent it spinning across the parking lot. “So you’re trying to make an opportunity for you out of someone else’s tragedy?”

  She rolled her eyes. “First off, I’m making an opportunity for us. Secondly, the tragedy isn’t our fault. It’s not like we took her.”

  My stomach threatened to hurl its contents onto the ground. She had no idea how wrong she was. And now she was dragging the media into the situation. They were going to dig. Look for a story. And if they found anything—I was dead.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had to think. My phone buzzed. I pulled it out, already dreading what it would say.

  WTF? U had a vision of Paige being abducted?!

  That hadn’t taken long. The news was out. I texted Drew back and asked her to pick me up. The last thing I wanted was to spend one more minute with my mom. Then I tried to think of what lies I was going to tell Drew. Pretty soon I was going to need my own spreadsheet to keep everything straight.

  Fifteen

  Drew’s bedroom was straight out of a teen movie. She had a queen-size bed from Restoration Hardware with huge plump pillows and a puffy duvet, like the Princess and the Pea. There was a single trundle mattress that rolled out from underneath her bed when I stayed the night. One wall was covered in cork so she could hang stuff without leaving holes, and the other walls were painted a frosty pale pink and decorated with silver-framed black-and-white photos of Paris lined up like at a gallery. I sat on her bed, stacking the various throw pillows around me like a fortress.

  Drew faced me. It felt more intense than being across from the two detectives. I’d put her off on the drive here, but there wasn’t any avoiding it.

  “How did you hear?” I asked.

  “Paige’s story is big news, like CNN-holy-shit-a-pretty-white-girl-is-missing big.” Drew’s voice sounded like she’d been sucking helium.

  I cringed. “It’s on CNN?”

  “Not yet, just the local channels, but I bet CNN picks up the story if they haven’t already. They don’t mention you in particular, just that a teen psychic gave the police critical information about the kidnapping.” Drew was flushed with red splotches staining her caramel-colored skin.

  I pulled a paisley pillow to my chest. “I hope they keep my name out of it. Can they say my name on the news if I’m still in high school?”

  “You have to tell me what’s going on.” Drew leaned forward.

  I bit a tiny bit of skin by my thumbnail and peeled it away, liking the sharp pain. “I had a dream about Paige, and I told it to Mr. L. Next thing I knew, the cops were involved, and apparently it helped them find her car.” I paused. “It was probably just some kind of freak luck.”

  “Your mom always said your whole family could do that stuff.” Drew had always been slightly in awe of my mom, who couldn’t have been more different than hers if she tried. Her mom was some bigwig health care administrator at our hospital, but she looked like an African princess. She piled her braided hair on top of her head like a crown, making her even taller and, if possible, more imposing. And she had this way of gliding rather than walking that meant she could sneak up on you before you even suspected she was there. She was super strict with Drew and her brother. There was never any confusion that she was their mom and not their best friend. Whenever my mom would flounce into my room and plop down on my bed with us, or come dancing into the living room when we were watching TV wearing something of mine, Drew would stare at her like she was a creature from another planet.

  “Yeah.”

  “I still can’t believe you knew where her car was. That’s just freaky.” Drew’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my god, what if the kidnappers come after you? They might want to, you know, shut you up.”

  I had no idea how my life had turned into a mobster movie where I had to stress over having people on my tail. “They’re not going to worry about me. I don’t really know anything.” I picked at the raw skin on my thumb. I wished we could talk about something else.

  Drew’s hand dropped softly onto my knee. She smelled like the Clinique Happy perfume she was addicted to. “You didn’t—I mean, you did see something, right?”

  I stiffened, pulling the thumb away from my mouth. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Is it possible you just imagined what you saw?” Drew wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Given, you know, your past.”

  Her words fell with a thunk between us. So much for thinking she would never drag this back out. My mouth went dry. “I didn’t make this up.”

  “I’m not saying you would do it on purpose.” Drew’s hand waved away my concern. “But maybe your mental health situation clouds how you see things.”

  “I don’t have mental health problems,” I bit out. She made it sound like I heard voices or needed a straitjacket. “It’s just anxiety.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with having mental health issues. It’s the same as any other health condition.” Clearly she’d been paying attention to the various public service announcements her mom was always making. “Is it possible that the anxiety made you see stuff?” Drew shrugged. “I don’t know much about it, but maybe when the news came out that Paige went missing, your brain sorta wanted to think it knew something.”

  “What would be the point?” I asked. “Do you think I’m doing it for attention?” I had the urge to throw one of her J. Crew pillows at her. Or a book. Maybe a brick. She was supposed to be my best friend. Not second-guessing everything I did.

  “Maybe your subconscious mind was reaching out.”

  “Then how did I know the parking stall number?” I stopped myself from saying anything further by biting down on my lip.

  Drew threw her arm around me. “Hey, don’t get mad. I always have your back. I don’t want, you know, things to go bad like they did before. You’ve never hinted that you ever had any real ability in that area. I thought you did readings for fun. If it was just a guess, now would be the time to come clean, before stuff gets worse.”

  Drew had no way of knowing this could make what happene
d in eighth grade look like nothing. Every second I stuck with this story, I got in deeper and deeper, but I couldn’t see any way out other than to keep moving forward.

  “I don’t need you lecturing me,” I said. Drew and I had been friends for years, but there were times when she crossed the line from being my friend to acting like my mom. Worse than that—she acted like her mom.

  Drew shrugged.

  “Seriously, I have this handled,” I lied.

  “All I was trying to say is that maybe this wasn’t some big psychic moment. Maybe it was just you noticing something the rest of us missed. You’re good at that. You see things a different way.”

  “You mean I’m a freak.” I wanted to blow up at Drew, but she wasn’t making it easy. She kept deflecting everything, staying calm, which somehow annoyed me even further.

  “I didn’t say that. I’m worried because I can’t figure out why you didn’t tell me when you had this vision,” Drew said. “This is a huge deal. Like, huge huge. We’re best friends—we’re supposed to share everything.”

  I sighed. We were best friends, but Drew didn’t see it. That our lives were spinning off into different directions. It was one thing when we both lived here, when we went to the same school, but things were going to change in a few weeks, and they would never go back. Guess it turns out I can see the future.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you about it.” There was no way to explain I’d hoped to never tell her. The urge to laugh hysterically was a tight ball in my chest. I’d actually thought at one point that this would be easy. That I’d say a few things, Pluto would get the money and pay me, Paige would come home, and I could go on with my life like nothing had happened. I was pissed at myself for being stupid. How had I not realized what a big deal all of this would become? I’d wanted the cash so bad I didn’t think it through. “The situation was weird. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, so I told Lester, he told the cops, and the whole thing sorta snowballed from there.”