Last Seen Leaving

by Caleb Roehrig

  For an hour or more, I’d sat in January’s meadow that night, agonizing over what to do—wondering if I had a duty to tell someone what I’d uncovered, or if I even had the right to. If January really was still out there somewhere, still alive, the road she faced would be a hard one. She was clever, I knew … but was she really clever enough to figure out a way to finish school and go to college? To realize the dreams she’d had, to achieve the goals that had driven her for as long as we’d been friends? Or was she maybe just another minimum-wage earner in LA now, already embarked upon her life’s career, her destiny settled for her by default? And then there was the fact of her pregnancy, a problem that defied any easy solution. Unless she got her hands on a really convincing fake ID, or was willing to risk her life in some back alley somewhere, she was probably going to have to have Cedric’s child after all. And what then?

  It wasn’t fair, and a huge part of me burned with resentment when I thought about Jonathan on his way to Capitol Hill at the expense of everything that had been taken from his stepdaughter—and everything that had been taken from me and Tiana and Micah and everybody else who loved January. My lust for righteousness wanted the story to come out in full detail, for the Walkers to be held publicly to account for failing her, and for her to be able to return to her friends and the possibilities of a bright future.

  But that decision wasn’t mine to make. I had been taken into the most crucial of confidences, and I simply couldn’t violate that trust, no matter how difficult it was to keep silent. She could have gone to the media with her story and blown Jonathan’s tightly controlled life apart in one fell swoop, burning down the house and becoming a national news story overnight … but she hadn’t; she could have disappeared without a trace, and then come back after the election when the stakes weren’t quite so high, taking her chances that her parents would be more accommodating at that point—but she hadn’t done that, either. She still could come back, I told myself, if she really was alive. The door remained open, and she could come back to Ann Arbor any time she wanted. That she hadn’t yet meant staying away was her choice. And if someday she did choose to return, I wanted to be part of the reason instead of the cause.

  Finally, I’d made the long trek back to where I’d left my bike on the Walkers’ drive, the grocery bag containing the empty blood pouch clutched in my hand. On my way home, I stopped at the first public trash can I came across and shoved the evidence all the way to the bottom. When the police eventually gave up on searching the river, they might return to the fields—this time with cadaver dogs. I didn’t know if the animals only smelled corpses, or blood as well, but I decided it wasn’t worth leaving to chance.

  Kaz and I made our way down the front walk to where the Lexus was parked by the curb, and a molding jack-o’-lantern leered up at me from the neighbor’s driveway, the final remnant of a Halloween I’d never forget. Thanksgiving was only a week away, and I was actually looking forward to it. In spite of everything, or maybe because of it, I felt like I had a lot to be grateful for: my family, my friends, Kaz, my good memories of January, my crappy bike and my dad’s groan-worthy jokes and my mom’s velociraptor smiles. That I was still alive to appreciate the smoky fragrance of dried leaves on the night air, to complain about the sticky sourness of fake champagne, to blush whenever Kaz paid me an impromptu compliment or introduced me to one of his friends as “Flynn, my boyfriend.”

  Before I got into the Lexus, I looked up at the sky, at the scattering of stars that showed above bare tree branches and in between clouds, and I watched my breath stream up and disappear into the night.

  Once I buckled my seat belt, and Kaz had put the car in drive, I took his hand in mine and held it all the way to the movie theater.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It takes a village, as they say—and my village has some of the greatest inhabitants. My name may be on the cover of Last Seen Leaving, but this book would not be in your hands without the hard work, commitment, and encouragement of many people—all of whom deserve my unending gratitude.

  To my amazing agent, Rosemary Stimola (aka Obi-Wan): I know how to say thank you in a dozen languages, and I still can’t think of a way to express how grateful I am for all of your confidence, your support, and your counsel. While I was still hoarse from screaming across the Atlantic that I had an agent, you presented me with an offer for publication, and my voice hasn’t been right since. You believed in my work, and in me, and for that I say: Thank you! Merci! Tack så mycket! Kiitos! Gracias! Grazie! Danke! Dziękuję! Paldies! Ačiū! Äitah! Спасибо! Still not enough, but I’m trying.

  To my extraordinary editor, Liz Szabla: working with you has been sublime. Your love for this novel and your trust in my writing have made every step of this process a pleasure; thanks to your guidance, the story contained within these pages is stronger and better than I could have ever imagined, and my life has been remarkably stress-free. From the very beginning, every conversation we’ve had has reinforced my conviction that Flynn and January have been in the perfect hands, and for all that you’ve done, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  This book would not even be a book at all if not for my publisher, Jean Feiwel; you made my greatest dream come true, and if I were a genie I would return the favor a hundredfold. Until I can make that happen, however, please accept my most sincere gratitude for allowing me to add “Published Author” to my bio.

  My admiration for Rich Deas, the creative director for Macmillan Children’s Publishing Group and the genius who designed the gorgeous cover art for this book, is boundless. Thank you for your stunning work and for proving that nothing is ever so great that it can’t somehow get even better. I am in awe.

  My greater Macmillan family has been phenomenal, and every day I find myself more and more grateful for their work in promoting Last Seen Leaving. To Molly Brouillette and Caitlin Sweeney: your enthusiasm for this book means everything to me, and I am so incredibly thankful for everything you’ve done to share it with the world. You are amazing. A thousand thank-yous are also due to Morgan Dubin, Brittany Pearlman, and the rest of the Fierce Reads team for championing this book and for including me in the ranks of some of my all-time favorite authors. I am humbled.

  The first person to review a completed draft of this novel was my mom, Amy Roehrig, and, oh boy, does she deserve a lot of thanks. Mom, you read my manuscript in its roughest form and said, “This is the one.” And, you know what? As usual, you were right. I’ve come a long way from the dark, dark house in the dark, dark woods, huh? Thank you for everything. The second person to read the pages that eventually became Last Seen Leaving was Mary Pomerantz, and I owe her an enormous debt. Mary, you once rescued me from some serious turmoil with the power of Implied Friday—and I’m not sure, but I believe you might be just a little bit magical. Thanks for your feedback and for years of wonderful friendship.

  My mother, Kay Nichols, is perhaps most responsible for my love of thrillers and suspense fiction. Mom, our little two-person book club—swapping and rhapsodizing over novels about demented serial killers and grisly murder—is really what made me want to give writing a try. Thank you for always believing in me. My dad, Charlie Roehrig, is the coolest guy I know and also my number one fan. (The feeling is mutual!) Dad, I’m glad I inherited your weird sense of humor, and I’m truly grateful for all those lessons you tried to teach me about discipline and hard work. Took me a few decades, but I finally get it now. My mother-in-law, Māra Trapans, is an incredible human being who felt like family from the moment we met. Thank you so much for your joie de vivre, your warm heart, and for spreading the gospel of kindness at every opportunity. You are an inspiration, and please know that I know how big I hit it in the in-law jackpot. Paldies!

  The rest of my immediate family I am going to list in a big lump, because Jebus, you guys. Todd, Debie, Andy, David, Jennifer, Alexis, Olivia, Ann, Gina, Jordan, Pat, Kiersten, Cayden, Liam, Jaime, Nick, Brendan, Dylan, Drew, Dan, Marz, Evie, Maija, Christian, Emma
, Amanda, Indra, Daina, Austris, Gunta, and Ieva: I LOVE YOU ALL.

  Many, many thanks, too, to my second family—the ones I chose. It is because of you all that I am still barely maintaining these few footholds I have on sanity anymore. Jenn: Neither of us is old enough to have had a friend for twenty-four years, and yet … here we are. You’re the best. Always. Angela: Where do I even begin? Formosa! Jones! Roomie night! Stinkers! Passions! Mustache karaoke! Your heart is as big as all outdoors, and I love you to death. Kasey: From London to Los Angeles, we’ve conquered a lot of territory together, but please always remember that I’m the best climber. Natalie: Our exploits are legendary (and possibly on file at the FBI somewhere), but Tamara will always be our finest hour. WHERE’S YOUR PEPPERMILL NOW? Tara (aka T-Boz): You will forever be one of my favorite people and not least because of how eagerly you’ve enabled my unhealthy obsession with horror movies. Leslie: Will you look at this? It’s a book! It’s my book! I can’t believe it! You were the first person to encourage me to write a novel, and you’ll never know how much it meant to me. Thank you.

  And, of course, I have saved the best for last. Uldis, when this book hits the shelves, we will have just celebrated eleven years together; they have been the best years of my life, but (no pressure!) I bet the ones to come will be even better. Thank you for being you, for making everywhere feel like home, and for making every day a beautiful adventure. I can’t wait to see the rest of the world with you. Es tevi mīlu, Ulditi.

  THANK YOU FOR READING THIS

  FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK.

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  possible are:

  JEAN FEIWEL, Publisher

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Caleb Roehrig is an author and television producer originally from Ann Arbor, Michigan. A former actor, Roehrig has experience on both sides of the camera, with a résumé that includes appearances on film and TV as well as seven years in the stranger-than-fiction salt mines of reality television. Last Seen Leaving is his first novel. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016 by Caleb Roehrig

  A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK

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  First hardcover edition 2016

  eBook edition October 2016

  eISBN 9781250085627