by Eileen Cook
Drew nibbled on the corner of her lip. “Was it freaky talking to the police?”
“A bit,” I admitted, my anger melting away. Maybe if I told her what I’d done, she could help. Or her parents could. They weren’t lawyers, but they were the kind of people who were friends with lawyers. Her mom and dad had the responsible adult thing down. If Drew had started talking about psychic skills and missing girls, they wouldn’t have made business cards. In her house, there were chore charts and curfews. I tried to pull more air into my lungs and think of how to even start that conversation.
Drew jumped off the bed, shocking me into silence. “You know what makes me feel better? Ice cream. If my idiot brother didn’t eat it all, there’s some in the freezer.” She pulled me up and hugged me. “Don’t worry, it’ll all work out.”
I followed her downstairs and tried to work up some hunger for Breyers Cookies & Cream. The moment had passed. I floated with the anxiety, riding it instead of fighting, the way Lester had taught me. I just had to stay calm. I had to be smart.
Sixteen
Paige
I’ve never been so aware of how many hours, minutes, and seconds fill every day. I’ve taken to doing everything slowly. Staying focused keeps me from losing control, from letting the panic take over. I keep my fear locked up, but I can feel it straining to get out. Its thin fingers scratching at the door, breaking it down, like something from a zombie movie. You know it’s going to get out, and when it does, it’ll eat you alive.
I wash my hair, concentrating on making sure every strand is lathered from my scalp to the tip. I brush my teeth, counting to twenty for each tooth. I chew every bite thirty times, until it stops being food and becomes mush that I swallow, and then I make myself wait for sixty seconds before I take another bite. I’m even writing this slowly. I think about each sentence before I write it down. Because what I write down next matters. It’s the last barrier before my terror breaks completely free.
They told me what happened—
I had to stop for a minute because I didn’t want to put that in writing. As if that somehow would make it more real. Then I realized that it doesn’t matter if I write it down or not—it’s still true. So here it is: My dad refused to pay the ransom.
It’s not even much of a ransom. I could almost understand it if they were asking for millions of dollars, but all they wanted was $25,000. The kidnappers are pissed. They want to know what kind of game my dad is playing. The tall guy hit me. Not a smack, either, but a hard slam across my chin, rattling my teeth and making me bite my tongue. They want to hurt him, but they can’t.
They can hurt me, though.
At first I didn’t believe the kidnappers—but they played a recording of him on the phone. He said he wouldn’t be “held hostage to someone’s demands.”
That’s a direct quote. I wrote it down as soon as they left, as if I’d ever forget. Last time I checked, I’m the one locked up, not him. He’s not stuck in some room counting out squares of toilet paper wondering what he’ll do if he runs out. He’s not making himself eat only tiny amounts in case the kidnappers don’t come back for days. He’s not left wondering what will happen if they become even angrier or if he’ll ever get out of this hellhole.
My dad hung up on the kidnappers. He hung up. Like he couldn’t even be bothered to talk about it anymore. As if the conversation were boring him. Perhaps he had more important things to do. Like run for office.
His official stance is that he isn’t sure he wants to run for the Senate seat. That he worries about the amount of commitment, the curse of having to spend more time away from his family. That’s a lie. I’ve heard him talk about it on the phone. Planning. Coming up with strategies. He wants that job so bad he can taste it. He’s already picturing himself hustling off to important meetings where the president awaits his sage advice. He’s planned his office, down to moving the giant desk that used to belong to my grandfather to Washington. The desk will give him the excuse to tell the story of how my grandfather came to this country with little more than a few dollars in his pocket and a determination to work hard. Nothing my dad likes better than making it sound like our family is basically a Hallmark movie of rough-and-tumble immigrants with hearts of gold.
He’s probably enjoying that I’m here. He’s in the spotlight. He can go on camera and sound sympathetic. No wonder he doesn’t pay the ransom—the longer I’m gone, the more free TV coverage he gets for his campaign. He doesn’t care if I’m scared, or cold, or hungry, or if these guys will break an arm or leg to make their point. He’s not dissecting each second into a manageable piece because he knows he might not be able to stop if he starts to cry and scream.
Everyone thinks my dad is the best guy ever. There’s a lot they don’t know.
The kidnappers haven’t told me what they’re going to do since he didn’t pay. They could send him something like my ear or a finger to show him they mean business. They didn’t go to this much trouble to just walk away. If he won’t come up with the cash, they’ll make him pay up another way. They’ll take it out on me.
I’m so scared.
Seventeen
I got off the bus. I was running late. This was the last stop on the very edge of town. The movie megaplex had been built out here so it could have a parking lot the size of Maine with the idea that people from the smaller towns all around would flock here to go to the movies. Sometimes it worked, but most of the time the place was empty because people stayed home to watch Netflix.
I paid for my ticket, resenting what this escapade was costing me. Pluto was either paranoid or way too fond of thriller stories. The insistence on the alter egos, fake names and bios, the burner phones. All the subterfuge. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate being cautious, but at the same time, I couldn’t help feeling that this was all because Pluto loved the game. Well, I wasn’t going to sit back passively any longer. I made sure to fold the receipt up and tuck it into the zippered pocket of my bag. The whole point was to make sure I had proof of where I was.
Pluto had suggested that I buy something, a drink or some Twizzlers, to “look the part.” My mom had brainwashed me for years that only idiots pay what theaters charge when all you have to do is smuggle in your own candy. I couldn’t eat anything anyway. The acid levels in my stomach had been so high since Paige disappeared that I was pretty certain I was developing an ulcer.
The theater was almost empty. The trailers were showing, and I had to stumble to a seat in the half dark. I slumped down. Pluto had told me to avoid looking around, but I couldn’t resist peeking over my shoulder to see if I recognized anyone. Nope. At least one lucky break. I checked my phone again. I had to wait another twenty minutes. I tried to focus on the movie, but I couldn’t keep the story line straight. It didn’t matter: I’d already looked up reviews and summaries of the plot so I could talk about it if I needed to.
When the time came, I slipped out of the row and headed for the exit. Nothing to see here, just someone going to the bathroom. I tried to walk casually, but my movements were jerky, like I was moving at one speed and reality was moving at another. I paused just outside the restrooms and drank out of the water fountain. The emergency exit door was where Pluto said it would be, next to the men’s room. I hoped he was right and that the theater staff had disabled the alarm so they could use this exit to take the trash out; otherwise, things were about to get real interesting.
I pushed the panic bar, half expecting buzzers and lights to go off, but it clicked open without a sound. I slid out into the night, shutting the door quietly behind me, wedging the tiny piece of cardboard I’d brought in the latch so I could get back in later. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. I was behind the theater next to three giant dumpsters with the sour smell of garbage wafting up. I could just make out the line of trees ahead that made up the back of the park, like tall black sentinels. I shook my head to clear away irrational thoughts. It was a park. There was nothing to be scared of.
I jogged over to the trees. The ground was spongy from the thick layer of fallen pine needles. My feet slid on the uneven path. I slowed down—I didn’t want to fall. I fished through my bag and found the flashlight. The park was beyond dark; it was like I’d dropped into a vat of black ink. The beam bounced around until I spotted the path. I took one look over my shoulder at the back of the theater and then turned the flashlight off and hustled through the woods. Without a light, no one would be able to follow me.
Pluto told me it should take about ten minutes to come across the cabin, but it felt like I’d been walking much longer. Jesus, what if I got lost? Clammy sweat prickled under my arms, and I started to grow lightheaded. I stopped and counted to ten. I was forgetting to breathe. Classic anxiety mistake. I couldn’t afford to let my imagination get the better of me. I was fine. There was nothing out here. I clicked the light back on. I was still on the path. No monsters. I wasn’t going to get lost. It was a worn groove of pounded dirt. As long as I moved slowly, I’d stay on the trail. The park was only so big. It wasn’t like I was going to wander into Canada or something. Worst case scenario, all I had to do is turn around and go back the way I came.
I whipped around when I heard a sound, but there was no one. Adrenaline flooded my system like bees buzzing through my veins. I hated everything about this place. I couldn’t believe Pluto had talked me into meeting here. There was no way I’d missed the cabin, so that meant I must not have gone far enough. I pulled out my phone to check the time. I’d walk for another five minutes and then go back. And I’d keep the flashlight on too. At this point no one from the theater would see the light anyway.
I had to walk only a few more minutes before the cabin appeared out of the dim. I paused at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the wind whistling through the trees. I couldn’t hear anything coming from inside. Pluto had told me what to expect, but seeing was believing. The windows were boarded up, with only tiny slits left open. The building seemed to lean forward, like it was hungry. The cabin looked straight out of a horror movie. And I was the dumb girl wandering around.
The one who gets killed early.
A cough from my right made me spin around, dropping the flashlight, my heart lunging up my throat.
“Paige! Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” I bent over to get my breath. My heart slammed against my ribs.
She whacked me on the shoulder. “Don’t call me that! What the hell is wrong with you?”
I stepped back, rubbing my arm. “Fine. Pluto. You scared the shit out of me.”
She bent over and picked up the flashlight, handing it back. “We talked about this a thousand times. It’s not just calling me Pluto—it’s thinking of me as Pluto. It’s making your brain see me as that person. Different name, different gender, different everything. It has to be instinct, so if anyone ever overhears you talking, or if they surprise you into saying something, they won’t connect the two of us.” She snapped her fingers in my face. “Instinct.”
“I’ve done what you said. I just wasn’t expecting you to sneak up on me.”
Paige pulled the hood from her sweatshirt down. “That’s exactly why you have to do it all the time—look how easy it was to throw you. Besides, I hid because I wanted to be certain it was you.” She looked down pointedly at the flashlight. “Since I told you to come with no light, I had to be sure.”
It creeped me out that she’d been standing there watching me the whole time I walked up. I could picture her peeking around the trees, tracking every move I made. This wasn’t about being careful; it was about Paige liking that I was scared.
“Did you bring me anything?” Paige looked at my empty hands. “Nothing? Not even M&M’s? Or those Sour Patch Kids? I love those things.”
I bit my tongue. “What’s happening with the ransom?”
“There’s been a hiccup.” She ran the zipper on her hoodie up and down.
I paused, waiting to see if she was going to say anything else. Each nerve in my body was lighting up with annoyance. “What kind of hiccup?”
Paige jammed her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt. “You don’t need to worry about it. I’ve got it under control.”
“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.”
“At least out of the two of us I can keep our names straight.” She blew her breath out in a huff. “I can’t believe you demanded a face-to-face meeting to tell me you don’t think I’m doing a good job. You couldn’t do that over the phone? This is a waste of time and a pointless risk.” She started to walk back to the cabin.
Oh hell no. I grabbed Paige’s elbow. “Listen, if you can’t control your dad, that’s not my problem.”
Paige’s hand whipped out and slapped me. I was so shocked I dropped her arm. I touched my face—it was hot where she’d hit me. I’d never been hit before. Ever.
“I told you, we are not discussing the details. This is my plan; don’t you get it?” Paige’s nostrils were flared, and her breath came in fast pants. I was suddenly aware that no one knew I was out here. With her.
I nodded.
“You have one job, feed the info I give you to the cops. That’s it. And for that you’re being paid very well. You can use that money for whatever you want—that’s not my business—and how I get the ransom isn’t any of yours. You don’t need to worry about anything other than your role. It’s not your problem. Is that clear?”
“It is my problem if I’m not going to get paid.”
Paige huffed. “Don’t worry, he’ll pay.”
“I know you’re pissed at your dad for some reason, but he really is upset.” I thought of his expression when I’d met with him. How I’d seen all this emotion just under a thin, brittle layer of control. “You didn’t see him. He’s trying to be brave and tough, but he’s worried. Maybe he’s not paying the ransom because he thinks the kidnappers will kill you if they get their money.”
She rolled her eyes. “I think I know my dad better than you. People are way more complicated—they’ve got an outside view and then the inside that almost no one knows. Take my friend Lindsey for example. Do you know why she dropped the debate team right before state finals?” I shook my head. I didn’t care what her BFF did. “C’mon, guess.”
“I heard she didn’t get along with the advisor.”
Paige nodded, smiling like I’d gotten a tricky question right. “That’s what everyone thinks. Truth is she’s terrified to fly, and they have to take a plane to get to nationals if they win. She doesn’t want anyone to know, so she came up with a stupid excuse to quit.”
“Who cares?”
“The point is, no one at school knows the truth; they know what she wants them to hear. My dad’s the same way, only about a million times better at playing the game.”
“Look, you don’t need me anymore.” My feet shuffled in the dirt. “They found the car. I did my part and—”
“Stop right there. You agreed to do this, which means seeing it out to the end. You can’t just decide you want to quit now.”
I’d demanded this meeting to get some answers, but I’d lost control. “You can’t make me do anything.”
Paige smiled, her teeth bright in the darkness. She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. It felt like she’d marked me. A wave of disgust rolled through my stomach. I wanted to push her to the ground then kick her until that stupid smug smile was off her face.
“Like it or not, we’re partners now. If you back out, you’ll be sorry.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ll be sorry.” Paige patted my shoulder. “You don’t want to miss out on the ransom when it comes. And it will come, trust me. You just have to hang in during this rough patch. My dad will pay. I’d invite you in for tea and cookies, but we can’t take the chance that you’ll leave any hair or fingerprints inside. Remember, you will have only seen this place in your mind.” She w
inked.
I hadn’t even thought of the fact I might leave evidence behind. I hated that I’d missed that obvious point and hated even more that she knew it. Paige was one step ahead of me. She spun me around so I faced the path again.
“Remember to stay until the end of the movie. Just in case anyone remembers you being there if it comes up.” She gave me a tiny push. “Get going. Stick with me, and we’ll be just fine. You worry too much.”
I took a few shambling steps back into the dark. The damp smell of rotting pine needles and leaves filled my head. I was an idiot for getting messed up in this, but not so stupid that I didn’t hear the threat loud and clear. If I bailed on Paige, she’d make me pay. I had no idea how long she’d been planning this. Months at least. I’d been impressed with how she seemed to have thought of everything. I’d underestimated one very important point—she must have also thought of how she’d get out of it if she got caught. She wasn’t going to be the one left holding the bag. I was willing to bet that was going to be my job.
Paige might be my partner in all of this—but we were also enemies—and I wasn’t going to forget that for another second.
Eighteen
I pressed my ear to the cold metal door of the theater. I couldn’t hear a thing. My heart clenched when it looked like the cardboard was gone, then I realized it had simply slid down. I cracked the door a tiny sliver, and when I didn’t see anyone in the hall, I yanked it open and slipped inside.
Someone reached out and clutched my upper arm as soon as my foot hit the carpet. I froze.
“What were you doing out there?”
The guy who held me had dark curly hair and looked like one of those Greek statues we studied in art history. He also looked pissed.
I forced out a stilted laugh. “Funny thing. I had to pee so bad that I wasn’t paying attention and I pushed open this door instead of the bathroom.” I smacked my forehead like I couldn’t believe what an idiot I was.