The muscles in my jaw tightened, the blood hot in my veins. “Well, we’ve been fine.”
He rose from his chair and stood close to me, his tall frame looming downward. “Fine? You don’t seem very confident about that.”
“We’ve been in a long-distance relationship since I left for college,” I replied. It was the only way I could answer his question truthfully without raising any suspicion. Knowing that the boyfriend or girlfriend of a missing person is always an automatic suspect, I didn’t want to reveal any unnecessary information. Plus, my relationship with Leah was no one’s business.
“Did you and Leah get into an argument recently?” he asked.
“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
His eyes focused on me as I avoided his gaze. “It would be in everyone’s best interest if you were honest with me. If there was an argument, it might explain why Leah would have left the party without speaking to you.”
With a shaky breath, I said, “No. I told you. We didn’t fight.”
He nodded, appearing half convinced, and headed toward the front door. Before leaving, he said, “Call the local department if you have any news. Anything at all would be helpful.”
“I will,” I said, and then watched as he made his way toward his parked police vehicle. I stood at the doorway and watched him drive off. The humid, salty air blew hard against my face. It was windy tonight, making me wonder if a storm was brewing. In the moonlight, I could see thick clouds gathering in the direction of the ocean. It probably wasn’t a good idea to drive in the storm, so it would be best to stay at the beach mansion tonight. I’d have to text Rosie and let her know I wouldn’t be coming back to the apartment until tomorrow.
I shut the front door. The slam of the massive door sent an echo across the empty house, bouncing off the wooden floors toward the high ceiling. The sound reverberated across the long, empty halls of the million dollar mansion, traveling like a stone skipping on water. It revealed the home’s sheer size and expansiveness. The empty space that it contained was mostly dark, quiet, and still. It reminded me of the true nature of my family—beautiful on the outside, but underneath the surface, only emptiness existed.
When the echos faded, the only sound in the entire house was the steady ticking of my parent’s grandfather clock and the subtle hum of the air vents. With a shudder that snaked its way up my spine, I decided that I didn’t want to sleep in any of the bedrooms tonight. The house was too dark and empty, and the myrtle trees had an annoying habit of scraping against the side of the house like sharp fingernails. If I had any chance of sleeping tonight, I’d have to sleep on the couch with the television on to distract me from my thoughts.
I made my way into the living and with a deep, calming breath, I lowered myself onto the cushions. As I stared blankly at the ceiling, the officer’s suspicious gaze flashed repeatedly in my mind. The way he looked at me when I said I didn’t remember how I ended up passed out in the yard, and the way he eyed me with disbelief when I told him that Leah and I didn’t get into a fight. I urged him repeatedly to focus on Rob Seagrave, but something about his expression told me that he only had his eyes on me.
Rain droplets tapped lightly on the roof, and I sat curled into a ball, right where Leah had been sitting during our argument last night. Her voice rang like a maddening nightmare in my memory. You’re the one who’s fucked up. Not me, she had snapped, her eyes burning with ferocity and her bottom eyelids twitching. Something about her demeanor last night was alarming. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
Distant thunder rumbled, shaking the house slightly. I was grateful that all the windows were closed so that I wouldn’t have to hear the fierce roar of the ocean. I didn’t want to envision white-capped waves crashing against sharp rocks in the distance.
As I lay on the sofa with my eyes closed, I shuddered at the thought of Leah’s body floating face down in the water, her head dipping up and down like a fishing bob.
Chapter Five - 5 years prior
Friends of mine would often ask how Leah and I met. It’s a hard question to answer, because in a sense, I felt like I’ve always known Leah Herrington. Her seemingly aimless, serene, wandering presence was difficult to ignore, no matter how hard I tried to suppress my fascination with her.
Leah was different from anyone else in our high school. She seemed untainted by the world, indifferent to the unnecessary pressures thrusted upon us by our society, which sometimes felt like an isolated bubble. Orchard Hill High School was for the elite. It was as if every student was bred to look and behave the way they did: tall, muscular, sophisticated, and arrogant. Students in our school were so similar in uniformed appearance that I sometimes got my friends confused. Faces and voices blurred together, as if the vast population of rich kids were morphed into one single mural. The artwork was displeasing to the eye. There was too much busyness, too much noise. And everything was the same dull shape and color.
Before I officially met Leah, I found her presence calming and reassuring, making me want to look at her and know about her. She was probably the only student at Orchard Hill who wasn’t involved in a single extracurricular activity. Once the dismissal bell rang each day, I noticed how she’d shut her locker and immediately slip out of the crowded hallway, which was exploding with gossip and socialization.
In the springtime of my junior year, I was on the varsity lacrosse team. It was mandatory for me to be on the field by two-thirty. Every day, I’d wait on the turf, tying the laces of my cleats and doing some preparatory stretches before the other players stormed into a huddle. The high school sports complex was always busy and active during this time. Balls were thrown, whistles were blown, and parents screamed at their kids from the sidelines. And somewhere on the outskirts of all that stress and tension was Leah Herrington, and she was always wandering around by herself. Sometimes, I’d spot her sitting on the bleachers. Other times, she’d be leaning against the trunk of a tree. After curiously watching her from a distance, I began to fantasize about the girl. I imagined her coloring with pastels while she sat on top of a protruding tree root, her fingers chipped with black nail polish as she flipped through the pages of her journal. She often wore loose, baggy flannels—not the kind that you find at PacSun or some Surf shop in the mall, but the kind you’d find for fifty cents at a thrift store. With her nose pierced on both sides and a septum ring in between, I figured her parents didn’t give a damn about the school dress code. This made me envy her freedom. My mother would lose her mind if I pierced any body part other than my ear lobes. I wondered if Leah had any tattoos hidden beneath her flannel shirts and ripped jeans.
The first time I spoke to Leah was on a cloudy Monday afternoon. Tiny rain droplets were falling from the sky like mist, which made lacrosse balls difficult to catch. They kept slipping out of my net over and over again, making the hair on the back of my neck rise. My mom was watching me from the sidelines, grimacing at every slip and missed catch. I could feel her harsh stare through the lenses of her glasses. Every time I dropped the ball, I wanted to scream, smash my lacrosse stick into the ground, and storm off the field. But of course, I would never do a thing like that. I was on the brink of receiving a scholarship from Rowan. I had to focus if I had a chance of winning it.
Hannah McCain passed me the ball as I stood in front of the goal post. The air was cold and damp. My fingers ached as I tightly gripped my slippery lacrosse stick. When I caught the ball, I launched it toward the net as hard as I could. The goalie blocked my shot with little effort, sending the ball bouncing and rolling off the field.
“Fuck,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
Coach Jenn blew the whistle. “Water break!” she called.
Sucking on my mouth guard, I jogged toward the sidelines, doing my best to avoid eye contact with my mother.
“Dani, get over here!” my mom shouted.
With a groan, I threw my stick onto the ground and jogged over to her.
“What the hell is going o
n?” she asked. Although it was damp and misty outside, my mother’s hair was shiny, bleach blonde, and parted neatly in the middle. Not a single lock of hair was out of place.
“It’s so wet out,” I said. “The ball keeps slipping.”
“You’re not the only one playing in moist weather right now. There are twenty other girls on the team, and you’re the only one who can’t seem to keep the ball off the ground.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping the sweat beneath my hairline.
“Don’t say sorry to me,” my mom snapped. “Your apologies don’t mean anything unless you’re willing to put the work in. You’re lazy, unfocused, and you’re embarrassing.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“If I see you drop the ball one more time, we’re gonna have a talk with your dad about it later. He will be very disappointed to hear about your performance today.”
“Okay,” I said, keeping my head down.
“Look at me, Dani. Do you want me to take your car keys away?”
I looked up at her. “No.”
My mom held my gaze firmly. Thankfully, Coach Jen suddenly blew the whistle, beckoning the players back onto the field. I turned and sprinted away from my mother, grateful to escape her chastisement.
Coach Jen stood in the center of the field. “Everyone line up and stretch,” she announced. “We’ll scrimmage in ten minutes.”
I was stretching my quads when Hannah and Sara took position on either side of me. I wasn’t particularly close with either of them, at least not on a deep level, but I had grown acquainted with them after playing sports for the last four years.
“Your mom seems exceptionally pissed today,” Hannah said as she nodded in my mother’s direction.
“Quite exceptionally,” I replied. I lifted my right arm over my head, stretching my tricep. “It’s the scholarship.”
Sara narrowed her eyes curiously. “Kinda weird that your mom is so obsessed with that scholarship, don’t you think? I mean, don’t your parents have enough money to send our entire town to college…along with the entire damn country?”
“It’s less money they’d have to invest in me, I guess.” I shrugged and began stretching my left hamstring. As I bent over, a flash of bright color caught my eye. I looked up. Leah Herrington was walking along the sidelines wearing a bright red flannel. The fabric was thick, making me wish I could slip my arms into it. She was carrying a leather satchel, which was covered in colorful pins and buttons. Her satchel appeared stuffed, and I had a feeling it wasn’t full of textbooks. I imagined journals and art sketchbooks stuffed inside.
Sara glanced over her shoulder at Leah. “Why’s that girl always wandering around after school?”
“That’s Leah Herrington,” Hannah said, following her gaze. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even belong at this school, but because she lives right on the border of the East Side, the principle let her enroll.”
In a low voice, I said, “Not sure why anyone would want to go to this school.” Sara and Hannah didn’t seem to hear me.
“She probably wanders around by herself because she has no friends and nothing better to do,” Sara said. “She’s a lesbian, for godsake. Can you imagine if she was on the team with us? We’d have to get changed in the locker room in front of her. My dad would be pissed.”
I nearly jumped. Leah Herrington was gay? No wonder she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. Homosexuality wasn’t tolerated at Orchard Hill, so there was no point in even trying to make friends.
I watched Leah curiously, searching for a hint of shame or insecurity in her expression. But her face was placid, serene like the ocean on a clear night. She sauntered past us, and for a brief moment, her eyes locked into mine. She smiled, winked, and carried on. Hot blood rushed to my cheeks. I hoped Sara and Hannah didn’t notice.
Leah’s combat boots scraped against the pavement as she walked. I broke my gaze away from her when Hannah said, “Did she just wink at you, Dani?”
“Huh? Oh. I didn’t notice.” I blushed violently.
“She definitely did,” Hannah said. “How did you not see that? She seriously looked right at you and winked.”
“Why does it matter?” I asked. “Let’s get back to practice.”
Sara didn’t budge. “She’s so weird,” she said as she gripped her lacrosse stick in her hands. She lifted one of the lacrosse balls off of the ground, cradled it, and launched it toward the goal. Instead of flying into the net, the ball bounced off of the goal post and soared through the air. I clenched my teeth when it landed on the ground and, to my horror, rolled directly in front of Leah, who was about ten feet away from us. She stopped, picked up the ball, and turned toward us.
“This yours?” Leah called over, holding eye contact with Sara. Without waiting for an answer, she threw it at Sara. Leah smiled and said, “I have good hearing, by the way. If you have a problem with my sexuality, maybe you should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself why you give a shit about someone else’s life.”
Sara’s face reddened. “I don’t care what you do with your life. Just don’t wink at my friend.”
To my utter bewilderment, Leah’s smile broadened, and she shot a wink at Sara. It didn’t seem flirtatious, but sarcastic, which brought a smug grin to my lips. God, Leah Herrington was cool.
• • •
After practice was over, I left the locker room and made my way across the school parking lot. My BMW was parked all the way in the back of the lot, but instead of walking toward it, I looked around in search for Leah. I found her sitting on the bed of a rusty, red pickup truck. Her legs were dangled over the edge, the laces of her leather boots hanging loosely in the humid air. She blew a puff of marijuana smoke between her lips.
“Hey,” I called over.
Leah sat up and met my gaze as I approached. Thick, full eyelashes surrounded her dark irises. She and I had only made eye contact a handful of times, yet I still hadn’t gotten used to the intriguing nature of her stare. She seemed laid back, carefree, yet attentive. She observed her surroundings closely, but still seemed lost in her own imaginative world.
“What’s up?” she said casually.
“I don’t know if we’ve ever met,” I said. “I’m Dani.”
“I know who you are,” Leah said with a grin. “Everyone does.”
That was true. My parents were of the top five wealthiest couples in the state. Everyone in the area knew my name, but not for the reasons I wanted them to. In fact, I didn’t want anyone to know me at all. I wished I could live my life as subtly and simply as Leah seemed to.
“Sorry about my friends earlier,” I said. “They’re assholes. I don’t like to hang around them much. I don’t like to hang around anyone in this town, really.”
“Why’s that?”
“They’re not nice.”
Leah blew a breath of smoky air through her mouth. She huffed. “You got that right.”
I swept my gaze across Leah’s body. She laid against the bed of her rusty pickup truck, staring at the grey, cloudy sky above. “You want a hit of this?” she asked, holding out a paper rolled joint to me. The smoky embers burned between her fingers.
“No thanks,” I said. I glanced at Leah’s satchel placed beside her. It was zipped open, allowing a glimpse of disorganized papers and notebooks poking out of it. I had imagined Leah to be a painter of some sort, but to my delight, she appeared to be a photographer. I could see the black lense of a Canon EOS sticking out of one of the front pockets.
“You like to stare,” Leah said, linking her eyes with mine.
The heat of embarrassment rushed to my face. “Sorry. You’re just different, that’s all.” Worried that I might have offended her, I added, “I mean that in a good way. Really.”
“I hope so,” Leah said with a chuckle. She pressed her joint against the sole of her shoe and smirked at me. “That’s alright. I did wink at you, so I guess we’re even now.”
A sheepish grin tugged at the corners of
my mouth. “I guess so.”
Leah hesitated and observed me from head to toe, her dark eyes soaking me in. “Was there something you wanted to tell me?”
“Um. Just to say hi…and that I’m sorry that my friends made fun of you for being a…” I found myself unable to finish the sentence.
“A lesbo?” Leah laughed. “Whatever. Fuck ‘em.”
“Well, have a good rest of your day,” I blurted out, hating myself for sounding so forced and professional. I probably seemed so boring to her. Leah probably assumed I was as shallow and simple-minded as everyone else who walked the halls of Orchard Hill High School.
I turned to leave, but stopped when I noticed that the entire parking lot was empty. Other than my BMW and Leah’s pickup truck, not a single car remained. I turned to look at Leah.
“Hey, um. How come you wander around after school so much?” I asked. “I’m just wondering. Wouldn’t you rather go home?”
“No. I certainly wouldn’t,” Leah said. “Would you?”
I paused for a moment, pondering Leah’s blunt honesty. Perhaps her home life was even more tense and dysfunctional than mine.
“No. I wouldn’t either,” I replied.
“Wanna hop in then?” Leah asked as she jumped out of the bed of the truck. She grabbed her satchel and tossed it into the passenger seat. Noticing my hesitation, she regarded me with a raised eyebrow. “You worried about something?”
With a rush of disquiet, I wondered how my mother would react if I wasn’t home by dinner time. Then again, she had just chastised me for not practicing in the rain enough. If I told her I was working on perfecting my catching, maybe she’d forget about my performance on the field. Maybe she’d even be pleased that I was dedicating more time to the sport.
After pulling my flip phone out of my pocket, I typed a text to my mom. It read: I’ll be practicing with Coach Jen for a bit. Be home after dinner!
My heart raced with both fear and adrenaline when I sent the text. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I slumped into the passenger seat of Leah’s truck, and we were off.
Shelter in the Dark Page 3