The Lost Causes

by Jessica Koosed Etting

  “What if he drives away? I’m going to see if I can at least get a look at his license plate.”

  “Don’t try anything. I’ll be there within five.”

  Sabrina kept checking the mirror as she drove. Maybe if she slowed down she could lure him closer. Get part of the plate, at least. She sank her foot on to the brake pedal.

  The car behind her got annoyed and swerved into the other lane, speeding by. The van hung back, though, maintaining the distance.

  Sabrina braked again, narrowing the gap once more, and stared into her rearview mirror. It was too dark to make out a face, but she connected with two dark flashes in the reflection. Eyes. Did he realize she was on to him?

  She sped up slightly, trying to remain inconspicuous. But when she dared to look back again, the van was turning left onto Grand.

  He knew she’d noticed him and he was ditching her.

  She couldn’t let him get away before Nash arrived. This guy was clearly keeping tabs on the Lost Causes, and they needed to know why. She sped up to the next street and hung a left, too. When she reached the first intersection, she inched out and looked both ways.

  Yes. There, down the road to the left, the white van was speeding away. Sabrina turned onto the road, a few cars between her and the van.

  If she just got a little closer, she’d be able see the license plate. And if she drove up beside him, she might catch sight of his face. There was no time to come up with a different plan.

  She jammed the gas pedal. But he must have noticed because suddenly the van accelerated, too.

  He shot up fifty yards in a half second before swerving around the car in front of him. Now Sabrina knew for sure the van was suspicious. Why else would he be driving like a lunatic to keep her from catching up?

  She followed the van, ignoring the honking horns beside her. Soon the van was hemmed in by a slow-moving VW Bug and a large truck.

  This was her chance. Sabrina sped up, closing the distance.

  The van was riding the Bug’s tail so hard that it finally got the hint and pulled over to let him through.

  The van hurtled forward, but Sabrina was right on its heels now. It was still too dark to see the license plate, but with a few more inches her headlights would catch it.

  He sped into the next intersection. But right as she was attempting to make out the letters and numbers, he took a sharp right turn. Sabrina was going too fast to stop — she was already in the intersection.

  She turned her head to the side for one last attempt to see the license plate number, and she could’ve sworn she saw a small flame erupt in the car. Had he hit something? Was his car on fire? That was the last thought she had before her body was rocked by the deep impact of a metal-on-metal collision.

  And then everything fell into darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “There’s a good concert coming up next Thursday,” Jared said as he flipped through music on his phone. He was lounging on the overstuffed chair in Z’s bedroom that night while she watched an episode of Seinfeld on her laptop. She’d never seen the show before, but she was actually enjoying it. She’d even chuckled a few times. Which was a miracle, considering her anxiety an hour ago when Gabby texted that she’d gotten Devon’s shirt.

  Now Z was waiting on pins and needles to see if a vision would come to Gabby. After the third time she’d texted Gabby Anything? Justin had politely told her and the rest of them to back off. Z had turned on the Seinfeld episode to keep herself from checking her phone every five seconds. Jared didn’t seem to notice anything was up.

  “So should I get tickets?” Jared asked.

  “Huh?” It was getting hard to stay focused when she was around Jared. He was part of a completely different life, and she wasn’t sure how he fit into this one. Or if he fit into this one. She was trying to sound like her old self around him as much as she could, but she thought at least her boyfriend would be able to see a subtle difference. She was watching Seinfeld, for God’s sake.

  “To the concert. On Thursday.”

  “Right. Uh, maybe.” Who knew what she’d be doing that night?

  “Okay. Let me know,” he said casually. It was at least the fourth music event Z had turned down in the past two weeks. Was there ever going to be a point when he started asking questions?

  Z’s finger hovered over the mouse to start another episode when the ringing in her ears made her freeze.

  I gotta find that cool electric blues song I heard the other day. Z would love it.

  Jared’s thought. Z’s stomach did a nervous little flip.

  It was the first time this had happened, and it felt a little wrong — but kind of exhilarating. And interesting. He was sitting here thinking about a song that would make her happy. That was sweet.

  Getting a glimpse into his mind was strangely addictive, though, now that she had heard that one thought. She tuned every sound out in the room until her ears started vibrating again.

  Man, I’m hungry. They never have good food at this house. Maybe I should leave and go grab a burger. Z couldn’t argue with him there. Her mother was notoriously stingy on buying snacks. Probably because she got full from a glass of cucumber water.

  Now that Z was attuned, Jared’s next thought came to her quickly.

  Then again, if I stay a little longer, I might get to see Scott in his boxers. Or maybe even out of his boxers. In the shower …

  Z’s mouth dropped open. “What did you just say?”

  Jared looked up from his phone. “I didn’t say anything.”

  Of course he hadn’t. He’d thought it. Z watched him, flabbergasted, as he went back to scrolling through his music.

  Jared wanted to see Scott naked.

  Her boyfriend had a thing for her twin brother.

  This was not happening.

  She tried to recall any warning signs that he was into Scott. Suddenly, random flashbacks started pounding her like a hailstorm. The fact that Jared insisted on going swimming when Scott was in the pool. How Jared consistently lingered in the kitchen when Scott was there and made awkward small talk. Oh God. The time in the school hallway when she heard that thought about Scott being hot and she’d assumed it was one of the dumb cheerleaders. It was her own boyfriend!

  “You should go,” she told him, slamming her computer shut. Had he seriously been using her this whole time? She cringed when she considered that he might have been thinking of Scott even when he was hooking up with her.

  “Yeah, it’s getting late,” he answered, standing up.

  “No, I mean … this isn’t working, Jared.”

  “Wait, what?” He was looking at her as if she was crazy. “What happened in the last five minutes that made it not work?”

  As annoyed as she was, she wasn’t going to embarrass him. Clearly he had some issues he needed to work out. “I think deep down you know we should break up.”

  There was no way he realized she was on to his secret, but something made him nod amenably, once again reminding her of a golden retriever. Although at least golden retrievers were loyal.

  “You’re probably right,” he finally muttered. Then his face scrunched up in concern. “Hey, your nose is bleeding.”

  It seemed like the least important thing in the world right now. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  Jared slunk out of her room. As Z reached for a tissue to wipe the blood from her nose, she looked back at her phone. Still nothing from Gabby. Z started typing a text to Sabrina instead.

  FYI, my taste in guys sucks worse than yours. Have I got a story for you.

  She waited a minute for the telltale dots to appear, showing that Sabrina was typing a response. After a moment, Z realized Sabrina hadn’t even weighed in on the earlier text chain. Maybe she was stuck at Sonic and couldn’t look at her phone.

  Call me when you can. Or
come on over. I’ll be up for a while.

  Somehow, hanging out with Sabrina had started to sound like a fun way to pass an evening.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Darkness swirled around Sabrina.

  The first thing she was aware of was the smell. Smoky and acrid, like an extinguished campfire.

  She opened her eyes slowly.

  She was in her car, lodged between the seat and her airbag, the front of her car burst open, cold air attacking her.

  She blinked a few times.

  “Sabrina!”

  Nash. Could it really be him? Memory fragments fought their way into her brain. The white van. She’d called Nash. He had planned to catch up with her.

  “Sabrina!” There was no mistaking it now. It was Nash’s voice. She tilted her head to the side and saw his face through the broken passenger window, though his expression was less assured than she’d ever seen it. She tried to respond but was finding it hard to catch her breath.

  Nash swung the door open, glass particles crackling onto the pavement. “I’ve got you.” He moved his hands around her, unbuckled the seat belt and scooped her out of the car.

  As he carried her across the street, Sabrina looked around, growing more aware of her surroundings. Of what had happened.

  Her car had spun out and was facing the wrong direction, the entire front hood bashed in, the windshield shattered. A small green SUV was also stalled in the center of the intersection, its front smashed up like a pancake.

  A man ran up to them. He looked like a young dad. “Is she going to be all right? I didn’t even see her!”

  The driver of the other car.

  Nash gave him a steely look. “You’re lucky you didn’t kill her.”

  Sabrina wanted to protest — it hadn’t been all this guy’s fault. But her head was hurting and it was too difficult to get the words out.

  Nash placed her down on the strip of grass alongside the road, his arms still propping her up.

  Her breathing had regulated slightly. She looked back up at Nash, expecting to find anger in his eyes. She’d done the direct opposite of what he’d told her to do. Again.

  But as he hovered over her, she could see only fear in his face. “Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded, and that seemed to reassure him.

  “Say something,” he urged. His fist was covered in fresh, bloody cuts.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Nash followed her gaze to his hands, then made a noise, his body shaking slightly. For a second, Sabrina was worried and then she realized … he was laughing. She’d never heard him do that before.

  “What?” she asked weakly.

  “Seriously? You’re asking me if I’m okay?”

  “You’re bleeding,” Sabrina said sheepishly.

  “This is nothing. I punched the side window out to unlock the car.”

  She raised a hand to her forehead and grimaced.

  “That’s where the airbag hit you.”

  He looked back to the cars. “It looks like he was making a left and bashed the front of your car. You were lucky, Sabrina. Another few inches and …”

  He looked away, letting the sentence hang.

  “It was a yellow light,” Sabrina remembered. “I was right behind him …”

  “Behind that guy? How?”

  “No. Behind the white van. And then it got away.” She had a brief flashback to the last thing she had seen … some kind of flame erupting in the van. Could she have really seen that? It seemed unlikely now.

  “You were chasing the white van?” Nash spoke slowly, as if he didn’t know whether to believe her or examine her for brain damage. “I thought he was following you.”

  Oh, of course. Nash wasn’t upset with her because he didn’t know what really happened.

  Sabrina took a breath. “I was scared I was going to lose him. I think he knew that I’d noticed him. I figured if I could just keep him in sight until you got here — or get a license plate number — it would be worth it. But then he turned so quickly and I lost him.”

  “Dammit, Sabrina,” Nash snapped.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I was trying to stay on him as best I could, but he was going so fast —”

  “You think I’m upset because the guy got away?”

  Just then, a traffic cop arrived on his motorcycle.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Nash said quietly.

  “What should I tell the officer?” Sabrina asked, suddenly nervous.

  “The truth. Minus the white van.”

  A half hour passed as the police officer spoke to both her and the man who hit her, and tow trucks came to haul the vehicles away.

  “Do you want to go to the hospital, miss?” the officer asked her. “I can have an ambulance pick you up if your friend can’t take you.” He looked at Nash.

  Sabrina shook her head. “I think I’m okay.” Her face was sore and bruised from the airbag and she had a nasty case of whiplash already setting in. But she didn’t need the ER.

  “Let’s just double-check for a concussion, then.” The officer grabbed a small flashlight from his belt. “Follow the light.”

  Sabrina obeyed, flicking her eyes back and forth as he moved the flashlight. Satisfied, he shut it off.

  “No concussion.”

  Nash raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’m fine,” Sabrina insisted. “Just shaken up.”

  “Let’s get you home,” Nash said, steering Sabrina away from the officer. When they were out of earshot, he added, “I don’t trust that meter maid. I want to check you out myself.”

  Sabrina frowned. “I don’t want to go home.” The thought of going back to the small, stale house with her parents right now felt unbearably depressing.

  “Then let’s go to my place. If you have a concussion, you need to be watched. I’ll feel safer with you there anyway.”

  The one upside to having parents who could not care less about where she was? She didn’t need to check in with anyone after a car accident or even bother going home.

  Nash was suddenly watching her carefully. “Is it okay with you if we go to my place?”

  They both knew they were crossing a line. And they were both pretending it wasn’t a big deal. That it was only about staying safe. Sabrina nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically.

  Nash gave her a small smile. “Okay, then.”

  * * *

  Sabrina wasn’t surprised to find Nash’s short-term rental was neat and sparse. A black couch took up most of the living room, a few books stacked neatly on an end table. It reminded her of a college dorm room, which wasn’t that strange considering how young he was.

  “Come,” he said, leading her onto the couch. His fingers gently probed her head. “Does that hurt?” he asked.

  “Not really,” Sabrina said. “I have a little headache, though. And my neck is hurting.”

  He got up and rummaged in the small kitchen.

  “Have you checked if everyone else is okay?” Sabrina asked. “What if he left me just to go to one of the others?” She cursed herself for not thinking of it earlier.

  “They’re fine. I talked to Patricia while you were with the officer. We’ve checked in with everyone. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “What if he decides to get more aggressive? Or goes to one of their houses tonight? I’m pretty sure he was waiting for me to get off my shift at Sonic. Should we call the police? I know they can’t know about all this, but maybe there’s a way …”

  “Sabrina, we have infinitely more resources than the police. Believe me. If I thought they could help, I’d call them, but we don’t need to. Patricia is handling it. We’re going to start monitoring your houses.”

  “But what if everyone’s not at home? I think Andrew has a Mathlete thing tomorro
w —”

  “We know,” Nash answered, softening without sounding condescending as he walked back to her with a bottle of ibuprofen, a glass of water and a heating pad. “Put this on your shoulders.”

  Sabrina slipped the pad onto her neck and shoulders, the warmth relieving the stiffness that was setting in. He sat down next to her. “Don’t worry. The FBI is on it. It’s my job to make sure this guy, whoever he is, doesn’t get near you or any of the others again.”

  “Who do you think it was?”

  Nash sighed. “I’m not sure. It might not even be related to our case.”

  “The van was definitely trying to get away from me. The driver didn’t want me to see him. Or her, I guess.”

  Nash paused, as if he didn’t like what he was about to say. “We know the white van Devon Warner rented was never returned.”

  “What does that mean?” She met his eyes and instantly understood. “You think whoever killed Devon took his van. And that person was the one following me tonight.”

  “I hope not. But yes, that’s a … strong possibility.”

  Sabrina tried to connect the dots in her aching head. Devon had conspired with someone — a friend? — to kill Lily. That person double-crossed Devon and killed him to keep the serum for himself and do God-knows-what with it. And now, if he was driving Devon’s van, he was the one who followed her. The one who had been driving by Z’s house. But why? How had he found them? And what did he want from them? Did he know they were looking for the serum?

  Her heating pad slipped off, and Nash picked it up. “Turn around.” She assumed he was going to return the pad to her, but then she felt his hands start to knead her shoulders.

  “Is that okay?” he asked. “You’ll feel better tomorrow if we get some of the knots out now.” It was another line they were crossing. And another attempt to pretend they weren’t.

  “It’s good.” The tension she’d been holding in her body for the last few hours melted away.

  “Tell me if it’s too much pressure.” His fingers nimbly pressed into the flesh of her neck, and her body temperature shot up as though she’d just stepped into a sauna.