The dirt-digger lifts his chin at me. “You’re back.”
I say nothing.
“No luck last time?”
I shake my head.
He reaches into his jacket and offers me a cigarette.
I shake my head.
“Suit yourself.” He nods to the kid in the hoodie. “This is Robbie.”
I nod and say, “I’m—”
“We know who you are, All Star. Everybody in this school knows who you are.”
Shit. I never should’ve come.
“It’s cool. I get it. I’d be here too if I were in your shoes.”
I watch Robbie slowly pull a glass pipe out of his pocket. A thin crust of black residue coats the bottom of the bowl and he slides it into the plastic bag. He squeezes out all the air, rolls it up, and pulls the zip-top shut. He stares up at me.
“Problem?”
I feel tall next to the two of them. “Nope,” I shrug, as nonchalantly as I can.
Robbie glares then turns to Dirt-Digger. “I’ve done my part. Now I need your help.”
Dirt-Digger nods and I realize I still don’t know his name.
“I got messed up this weekend,” the druggie says, “and, well, I lost the car—the one my parents let us drive.” He fishes a rolled cigarette out of his other pocket and turns to Dirt-Digger. “You got a light?”
Dirt-Digger pulls out a well-used Zippo from his jacket and hands it over. Robbie lights up. After a long inhale, he blows it in our direction. He’s definitely not smoking a regular cigarette, and I definitely wouldn’t normally hang out with this sort of crowd.
“So, did you crash it?”
“I don’t think so, but that’s not my problem. I can’t remember where I left it.”
Dirt-Digger watches Robbie, waiting for more information.
“I remember waking up in my bed. The car is missing. Everyone is pissed at me. Can you help me out?” He takes another drag.
Dirt-Digger shakes his head. “You smell like a Pink Floyd fan bus. Seriously. Stand downwind, man.”
Robbie shrugs.
“What’s the year and model?”
“2001 blue Civic.”
“Any other distinguishing details?”
“I broke the driver’s side taillight?”
Dirt-Digger nods but I can’t help but laugh. “You sure it’s worth it?” I realize immediately that I’ve crossed a line.
Robbie turns on me. “Go to hell.”
“I’ll see what I can do about your ride, but until then, get rid of the skunkified hoodie. You wear it to class and you’ll be busted for sure. It’s like you need a damn babysitter. Or maybe you want to get kicked out of this school too?”
Robbie just smiles.
The warning bell rings. Five minutes to class.
Dirt-Digger looks over at me. “Hear that? I think it’s time for us to go.”
“Where?”
Dirt-Digger gives me a look of annoyance but doesn’t answer the question. “Follow me,” is what he says.
And with reluctance, I do.
chapter 23
We leave Robbie at the door. He doesn’t seem smart enough to clue into Dirt-Digger’s good advice, and I feel sorry his family has such a dumb kid.
We move along the side of the school to another section of windowless wall at the back. Dirt-Digger pulls out his set of keys, selects one, and unlocks a door. We walk along a tight, dark corridor with pipes running overhead, pausing at a corner.
“The caretakers lock themselves in for coffee for about fifteen minutes every morning. They wait for the herds to flock to class before they come out and start their routine. If you don’t want to be seen, this is the best way in now. You don’t want to be seen, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
We go around the corner. Sure enough, there’s a door with maintenance on it, the faint smell of coffee mixed with garbage, and the sick, sweet odour of recycling bins.
We walk quietly past.
The door to the main hall is propped slightly ajar with a wooden doorstop.
“That’s the only entrance without a camera. The head janitor, Mr. Hill, sits at the surveillance monitors every free minute.”
I look at him. “Who are you?”
Dirt-Digger ignores me and pushes the door open without a sound. “Hill’s so busy staring at screens that he doesn’t see who’s staring back. Sick bastard. I’m not sure if he’s looking for trouble or if it’ll find him.”
When we’re both in the hall, he taps the wooden doorstop away with the toe of his shoe. The door latches behind us.
“You’ve been to her locker?”
I nod. “I was thinking of checking her gym locker.”
Dirt-Digger shakes his head. “What for? Just another dead-end the cops have likely covered.”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“If you don’t know what you’re doing here, why’d you come?”
I stare at him, lost.
He sighs, then points. “Second door on the left is the gym. Ms. Francis has prep in the morning. There’s a room with a washer and dryer just beside the girls’ change room if you need to duck out. No one goes in there. Consider yourself helped.” He walks away.
I look down the hall at the double doors to the gym then back to him. “Wait.”
He ignores me.
“Dude?” I don’t want to shout, but he doesn’t stop.
I chase after him and grab his shoulder. “Come on, man.”
He turns and I think he might swing a punch.
“Listen, All Star, I’m gonna be late for class.”
This guy doesn’t care about class. He’s here for something else.
“Where’s your binder?”
I stand in front of him and he looks up at me, but I know he’s not the least bit intimidated.
“I can’t do this alone. I need your help. You’ve stepped up twice and you didn’t have to.”
“I don’t need any trouble, All Star, and I sure as hell don’t need any attention. You’re headed for both. You go down this path, your mommy and daddy will get you a really expensive lawyer and bail your ass out. My mom might—just might— come see me once a month in juvie.”
He turns and walks away again.
“I want to find Sheri.” My words are quiet but intense. “Don’t you?”
He stops.
I’m angry but I don’t have any fight left. Sheri is missing. The thought that I’ll most likely never see her again hits me, and I know I’m about to cry. I choke it all back as I say, “She meant something to you, too, didn’t she?”
He stands there, back turned, unmoving. Suddenly, he turns and walks right up to my face.
“Here’s the deal, All Star. First, stop with the bitch tears. Second, if anything happens, I don’t know you.” He looks up and down the hallway, then moves away quickly.
I have to sprint to catch up.
“And third, it’s not dude or man.” He looks over at me, shaking his head and offering his hand.
“It’s Charlie. Charlie Wolfe.”
part 2
chapter 24
He wakes in a sweat.
He’s been sleeping well and dreaming deep and last night was almost no exception. The dream was the same one he’d been having for the past few nights. He walks in fields of yellow with blue skies above and the bright sun against his face. A warm wind blows, shaking the long stalks of grain. None of the nagging, twisting, wanting thoughts that have gripped him over the past few months have disturbed his rest. Almost none, except—
Over the past few days, the news has been covering the missing girl. At first, he tried not to notice the television, to feign disinterest, but he noticed that others had become invested in what the reporter called “
a tragedy,” so he began to pay attention, to slip amongst the sheep, and follow the script. The time spent has earned results—the lead detective, Gekas, is struggling with the problem he left her, leading the others further away from him and the answers she’s seeking. He watches with particular interest as the parents gather friends and family to search the running trails. He’s certain that he’s taken the proper precautions but he needs to be sure. The police won’t reveal what they know and the reporters are too stupid to pick up on the important details that lie in front of them, but he watches nonetheless, scanning the background of every shot.
What wasn’t on the news, what was repeated again and again in the many rumours spoken in hushed tones in school hallways, was that the most serious suspect was the girl’s boyfriend. His alibi seemed tight, but it didn’t stop people from trying to bend reality to fit their own preconceived prejudices. He was the scapegoat, the sacrifice to appease the angry gods, the answer to the question: “Who did it?”
He knew that if he waited long enough, people would make the boyfriend pay. He knew no one suspected him.
Except—last night’s dream. He had walked in the fields and felt the sun and the wind and he was alone. Then he opened his eyes and it was night and the moon was high and still he felt safe. Until, somewhere in the distance, somewhere across the plain, prowling beneath the surface of the fields, an animal howled.
And he knew he needed to hurt someone again.
chapter 25
I follow Charlie Wolfe through the school into the library and watch as he takes a red binder from a pile off the counter. We move through the stacks and he quickly grabs a couple of books off the shelves. We go to a table at the back. All his actions seem arbitrary.
I can’t stand it anymore. “What are we doing here?”
He points at a chair. “Reconnaissance. Now, sit.”
I take a seat, my back to the entrance of the library, and he sits across from me.
“Open them.” I look at him, and he nods at the binder. “Open.”
I flip the front cover and find neat, colourfully penned notes on Shakespeare. All the i’s have perfect circles over them. I’m definitely thinking it’s a girl’s writing.
“The textbooks too.”
I stare at him.
“For an all star, you are really slow on the uptake.”
It takes me a moment, but I finally get that I’m supposed to look like I belong here. I shrug and comply.
Charlie looks over my shoulder, studying the space. “The librarian teaches English this period. The assistant doesn’t get here until 9:00.” He leans and looks past me to the front desk. “We’re good. Give me your phone?”
“Why?”
“Just give me your damn phone!”
“Why, don’t you have one?”
Charlie looks directly at me. “Give. Me. Your. Phone.”
“All right.” I take it out of my pocket, unlock it, and put it on the table.
Charlie takes it, scrolling through my messages.
I’m staring at him when he looks up.
“What? Do your homework. I’ll be right back.” He tosses my phone back at me as he leaves.
I stare at the wall and twist around, but Charlie is gone. I look down at the books he’s grabbed from the library stacks: a collection of Edgar Allan Poe stories, a book about building the national railroad, and an atlas. I push them aside and flip through a few pages of my brand-new red binder to discover it belongs to a Jenny. The pocket at the back unzips to reveal a red pen, a blue highlighter, and a pencil with a broken end. Whoever Jenny is, she came very unprepared. I try to make the pencil look usable and hold my hand against my head, hoping to conceal my identity while appearing to study.
It feels like an hour before Charlie returns but my phone barely shows five minutes have passed. He’s brought Jessica, Sheri’s best friend, along with her boyfriend, Paul, and a girl named Katie. They all grab a seat at the table.
I haven’t seen anyone since Sheri disappeared, so it feels good that they came. Although Jessica is way more girlie than Sheri, she’s always been there for her, so we’ve spent lots of time around each other. Paul is okay but rarely tags along with his girlfriend, so I barely know him. Katie is friends with Sheri, too, but pretty low key, and I only know her from the occasional party.
“Hey, Tony.” I hear the strain in Jessica’s voice—she’s barely keeping it together. “Any word?”
I shake my head.
Charlie plops himself down across from me. “Why do you think you’re here? For a chit-chat with long-lost friends?” His interrogation begins. “Who here’s talked to the cops?”
We look at each other. Jessica raises her hand. Paul and Katie do too. I follow.
“Cool.” We all look at him. “Figure out if they asked you all the same things. I’ll be right back.”
He’s off again and I realize I need to get used to his style.
The four of us are quiet for only a moment before Katie starts. “They asked about the last time I saw her. Or if I knew about any fights she had with anyone.” She pauses and I know everyone wants to look over at me. Thankfully, she doesn’t linger too long and pushes through. “They gave me a card and asked to call if I thought of anything else.”
We all share similar stories. Cookie-cutter questions that no one can provide answers to. It seems like no one is being accused of anything based on how they’ve questioned us, but I can’t help but feel that I’m their best lead. I’d like to think that we’re all being treated equally, but as her boyfriend the finger is pointed straight at me, and I hate it. Oh, sure, we’re all sad about her disappearance, but I can’t help but think I feel it deeper than the rest.
Charlie returns, this time with Sheri’s ex, Dillon. I’m instantly uncomfortable.
Dillon nods in my direction. “What’s he doing here?”
Anger bubbles up inside, but Charlie stares at him like he’s an idiot—which he is.
Jessica comes to my defense. “Shut up, Dillon. Tony is Sheri’s boyfriend—he’s got more right than you to be here.”
“Yeah, Sheri’s boyfriend who fell off the radar the minute Sheri never made it home.” His accusation is a punch in the face. Any sense of unease is gone—now I’m just pissed.
“And where were you the night she disappeared, you jealous prick?” I’m on my feet and he’s standing and my fists are up and bunched tight.
Before I get a chance to swing, Charlie steps between us and pushes me back, knocking me hard against a bookshelf. “Calm down.”
Every muscle in my body is tense and Charlie restrains Dillon like a referee in a boxing ring. “You calm?”
Paul stands now too and his arm holds me back, but his body is turned toward Dillon, ready to fight.
I size Charlie up—he’s small and strong—and I’m still not sure whose side he’s on yet, so I decide not to carry this any further. I relax to let Paul know the moment has passed, and he sits down again, slowly.
Charlie turns to Dillon. “Stop being a dick. We’re not here to fight.”
Dillon’s fists drop and the rest of us sit back down.
Charlie leans in. “I want you guys to think about what the cop asked you. All the normal stuff right?”
We all nod.
“Now, think—is there anything else? All the things that seem weird or don’t seem normal. All the things an adult or a cop might overlook. Texts? Snapchats? People? Things at school? Things out of school?”
We sit in silence and I run through every single day, minute and hour right up to Thursday when Sheri went missing, but nothing comes to me. I look over at Charlie and he stares back at me, stone-faced. He’s not judging, only waiting for answers. I’m not sure where he’s going with all of this, but I feel like he’s the best shot I have.
He breaks his stare and looks to the o
thers. “Another thing—you’re going to stop texting—”
Katie cuts in, “Are you kidding?”
He glances at her impatiently. “Don’t interrupt. You’re going to stop texting anything about Sheri’s disappearance. But if you stop cold turkey, it’s going to look suspicious, so you can say some basic stuff about her. You’ve got to assume people are watching. Make sense?”
No one seems to like the idea, but they nod.
Charlie checks his watch. “It’s almost 9:00. Get back to the routine.”
Everyone gets up and leaves except for the two of us.
I look over at Charlie. He’s smiling.
“That went well!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I told you—reconnaissance.” Charlie’s phone buzzes in his pocket but he silences it. “Jessica is definitely on your side and Paul seems like he’ll go wherever she follows. Obviously, Dillon thinks you’re guilty, but the interesting one is Katie. She’s our ordinary Joe Public. Knows you but doesn’t know you. She tells me that most people are still on the fence, so we’re going to have to keep an eye on that.”
“It was a test?”
“Well, no. It’s good to get everyone to quit using their phones. Who gives a teenager a phone, anyway?”
“What are you talking about? All that stuff about the cops listening—?”
“What do you think this is? CSI?”
“Then why did you do all this?”
“I needed to know if people thought you were guilty. So I could decide.”
I stare at him.
“I think I’m at a solid 99%.”
“You were only deciding—?”
“If I could trust you? Yes. Among other things.”
“Like what?”
“I also needed to figure out Dillon. He’s definitely up to something.”
The librarian comes into the library.
“Time for us to go.” He stands. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“You’re taking me to the scene of the crime.”
Along Comes a Wolfe Page 7