Seth puts his hands up helplessly. “Based on the fact that his backpack was missing from his house and some of his clothes were gone.”
I feel a spike of anger that they told Seth this and not me, but even more that everybody seems to be accepting it when Jake could be hurt somewhere—or worse.
“He probably had it packed from the tournament. He could have left it at the arena. His stuff could be anywhere. Why are we even worried about his stuff, though, when the actual person is missing?”
Seth drops his hands. He can’t even look at me now.
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth,” he says, his voice tensing. “I told them Jake never came to the party on Saturday and I saw him take off with Kolt. I told them he’d talked about getting out of Ashland after the season was over.”
My tone tenses to match his. “Everybody talks about getting out of Ashland. All. The. Time. Not running away, though. Not without telling anybody. Do you even want them to look for him?”
“Of course I do.”
But before his words, there’s a hesitation so brief I wonder if I imagine it. Is this a stupid jealousy thing? Or is there something more here? I fold my arms and look him straight in the eye. “But you don’t want to help.”
Seth shrugs. Actually shrugs. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”
I stare at him, feel my jaw tighten. “You’re probably right. You’ve done everything you can. But I haven’t.”
Seth trails behind me as I head for the exit, and I push the door open so hard my palms sting.
“Don’t go,” he says. “I’m sorry. It’s just…My dad does this too. Last year he took off for a couple of days after the season ended. This feels like that to me. I bet he’ll be back by the end of the week.”
I stop and spin to face him. The wind blows cold between us. “This is different. Your mom probably knew where he was, and also your dad’s an adult. And there’s a difference between taking off and disappearing. I know Jake better than anybody,” I say, not caring that the words may hurt him. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
And I do feel it. There’s a panic growing inside me, scratching at my rib cage, throbbing in my head.
“Don’t you think…,” he starts.
I wait, assuming he actually has something important to say. But whatever it was, he swallows it. “Don’t you need a ride?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say. “I’m walking to Jenna’s. We’re going to find him. Or at least we’re going to try.” I don’t add “unlike you.” I don’t have to.
* * *
—
Jake doesn’t answer any of the five times I call or the three times I text on my way to Jenna’s. If the police won’t do it, I might have to assemble a search party myself. Who else will care as much as I do?
Kolt.
I stop to make the call before I go inside Jenna’s house.
Kolt answers without a hello. “Your boyfriend’s an asshole,” he says.
Your boyfriend. It takes me a second to realize he’s referring to Seth, not Jake.
“What are you talking about?”
“The police are on their way over. They have ‘a few more questions’ for me and decided to ‘stop by’ on their way back to the station. I told them everything already. What did Seth say?”
I think about Seth: the weird look on his face, the hesitation, the words he swallowed. “I don’t know,” I tell Kolt. “But Seth wouldn’t lie. He wouldn’t try to hurt anybody. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“The police are coming to my house, Daphne. Do you know what this will do to my parents? After all the shit my brother put them through?”
He’s right. Kolt pushes every limit he can, but he never breaks the law. Not after his brother.
“I know. And I’m sorry. But here’s what I called to say: I’m going to try to find Jake. Let me know if you want to help.”
My phone buzzes with another call, and my heart jolts. Is it him?
“I gotta go,” I tell Kolt, already pulling the phone from my ear.
But it’s not Jake. It’s Dad.
“Hello?” I say, letting a little annoyance sneak into my tone.
“Where are you?” he asks. “You okay?”
He knows about Jake. Of course he does.
“I’m fine, Dad. Just busy.”
“Did the police talk to you already? You know you’re allowed to have a lawyer present, don’t you?”
“Yes, Dad. And you know you’re not allowed to give legal advice, don’t you?”
He doesn’t laugh. “I’m allowed to do anything to keep my daughter safe. That’s why I called. Don’t think this is your problem to solve.”
Dammit. He knows me too well.
But I’m not giving in that easily. “If I can help, I’m going to.”
“Of course,” he says. “But no boyfriend is worth your health and safety, honey.”
I pace the sidewalk. “Dad. I know you never liked him, but give him a little credit. It’s not like anything to do with Jake automatically puts me in danger. And he’s not my boyfriend, remember? We broke up months ago.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asks. “I saw the way you were looking at him during the game. Kind of wondered if you two might be getting back together.”
“Dad. No.” I try to sound calm and sure, to tamp down the panic that wants to surface. What exactly did he see? And how exactly was I looking at Jake?
“Okay. I believe you. Just promise me you’ll let the police do their job. Promise me you’ll be smart.”
I sigh. “I will, Dad.”
I climb the steps and knock on Jenna’s door, feeling a little thrill of triumph. In the end, all I promised was to let the police do their job. He didn’t say I couldn’t try to do their job too. And to be smart—which is exactly what I intend to do.
Jenna swings the door open. She’s wearing a tank top and a pair of running shorts, even though it’s technically still winter. March is never warm in Ashland, but so far this one’s colder than most.
“What’s our move?” I ask her.
She breaks into a grin. “I was starting to wonder if you’d chickened out. Let’s go.”
“Where?” I ask.
She tosses a knot of clothes at me. “Running, dummy. Well, driving too, if we need to. But if we happen to end up on private property, it’ll look less suspicious if we’re out for a run. We still have a couple of hours of daylight left.”
I’m still baffled, so I ask the question again. “Yeah, but…where?”
“Wherever Jake would have gone. I mean, he would have driven from the school to his house after the bus dropped him off, so definitely that stretch. We’ll figure the rest out as we go. Talk to people who know him that the police might not think of. Stuff like that.”
It’s better than anything I’ve got, and my head is often clearest when I run, so I give in and go to Jenna’s room to change. The leggings are elastic enough that they fit great, and the shoes are okay too once I have a couple of pairs of socks on. The T-shirt says MIKE’S AUTO BODY on the front, and it’s not until I catch my reflection in the mirror that I realize it says I’VE GOT ALL THE RIGHT PARTS in giant letters across the back. Only Jenna.
We wind through town, down a path Jake and I have run on together before, up to the water tank, where sometimes people mess around late at night. The rhythm and the movement lift my heart and clear my mind enough that this feels like the right thing to do—a feeling that’s confirmed when we pass a newer neighborhood next to the trail.
“Hang on,” I say, slowing to a walk. There’s a house under construction, with guys coming in and out and climbing on the roof. It’s like an anthill over there. But the thing that catches my attention is an old pickup parked out front w
ith TIM’S TOP-OF-THE-LINE ROOFING written on the door.
“Jake works for them. Or worked.” I’m pretty sure he quit after his accident, but he didn’t like to talk about what happened that day.
“Let’s go,” Jenna says. And before I can stop her, she’s bounding up to the house and shouting at the guys on the roof.
“Hey! Is one of you Tim?”
A super-built guy in a gray henley looks down at her. Okay, they all look at her because that’s what guys do. But Gray Henley steps forward.
“Yup. What can I do for you?”
“How about you hop down from there and talk to us?”
Gray Henley—Tim, I guess—descends the ladder and comes over to us.
“You haven’t seen Jake Foster, have you?”
Tim tucks his thumbs in his pockets. “Sorry, ladies. Jake hasn’t worked for me since his accident. Why are you asking?”
I’m not sure the police want it public, but Jenna barges ahead. “Because he’s missing. Gone since the championship game.” She puts her hands on her hips, cocks her head. “Wait—he hasn’t worked for you since his accident? You didn’t fire him, did you? Because that would be pretty cold.”
Tim backs up, holds his hands out. “Hey, now. It was his choice, and I helped out with his medical bills. Jake said we were cool.” He takes off his hat and scratches his head. “He’s missing? You serious?”
“Yeah,” Jenna says. “But don’t worry. He’ll turn up. Jake’s the kind of kid whose face will look good on a missing-person poster. He’s a white male who happens to be good at sports. The whole town will care.” She stares him down. “We’ll find him.” She might not be trying to sound threatening, but Tim gives her a nervous nod and hurries back to the job, and I’m glad to be on her side.
I want her to be right about this. Still, I worry. Besides me and Kolt and Jake’s family, will anybody care long enough to bring him home?
We stop at Jenna’s dad’s pharmacy for a drink. While I grab a Gatorade from the cooler (Glacier Cherry; there is no other worthy flavor), her dad comes out from behind the counter and gives her a hug. Even though it’s cold outside, we’re too sweaty to stay inside with the paying customers, so we go to the bench behind the store to sit while we hydrate, dodging the guys who are working on remodeling the offices upstairs.
“You want Tim to take care of the roof for you?” I ask.
Jenna takes a swig of her (inferior) Glacier Freeze. “Tim can kiss my asphalt. I take it he seemed sketchy to you too?”
I twist the cap on my bottle. “I guess.”
Jenna chugs the last of her Gatorade and makes a perfect eight-footer into the recycling bin. “It’s too loud to think with the construction here. Let’s get back at it. We just haven’t been to the right place yet or asked the right questions. Time to retrace his steps.”
So we run past the high school, then follow the route Jake would have taken in his truck after the bus dropped him off Saturday night. There’s nothing that stands out to me, other than the fact that I feel totally useless and have no idea what I’m looking for.
When we’re about to turn the corner onto Jake’s street, I stop. “We’re not really going to his house, are we? They don’t need us bothering them right now.”
I picture Jake’s mom, still in her sweater and slacks from teaching all day. But she wouldn’t have gone to school, would she? Will Luke be home? What do you do the day after your life shatters?
Jenna’s already looking around the corner. “Jake’s truck is there, but that’s it. No cops.”
“No blue Civic?” I ask.
“Nope,” Jenna says.
Then Jake’s mom isn’t home. Maybe nobody is.
“Okay,” I concede. “Maybe we can look around. For a minute.”
We run down the street, then slow when we get to the house. I’m stunned, stuck. I can’t stop staring at the house, the truck. How many times have I walked through the front door? Or sat in the passenger seat and lifted up on the handle so the door shuts right? There’s a hollow ache inside me. Things will never be the same between me and Jake. I may never do either of those things again.
“It’s weird that the truck is here,” Jenna says. “I mean, if he was running away, wouldn’t he have taken it?” She reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze, then strides to the front door to knock. I’m terrified someone will answer, and terrified they won’t.
Nobody answers.
She tries the knob, and I’m almost relieved when it’s locked. After a quick peek through the mail slot, she just shrugs and smiles. “I guess we’ll have to try the truck.”
I’m rooted in the sparse grass along the curb. “Are you sure we should be touching anything?” I ask. “What if they’re considering it a potential crime scene?”
Jenna waves the questions away. “They’d have it taped off. Plus, you said they think he ran. I thought you wanted to do something about this, Sharp.”
I do. But the truck’s locked too—and Jake never locks his truck. He even leaves a key in the ashtray in case Kolt ever needs to borrow it. (When I asked Kolt why he doesn’t just keep the key, he said, “Because usually when I need to borrow Jake’s truck, it’s because I can’t find my keys.” Which makes perfect sense in the way only Jake and Kolt ever could.)
“Any ideas?” Jenna asks, pulling on the driver-side handle.
“Maybe…,” I say, heading for the passenger side. If whoever opened it last wasn’t me, if they didn’t know about the whole lift-the-handle thing, maybe the latch hasn’t quite caught.
Sure enough, with a strong lift and a little counterintuitive push, the door almost comes open.
“Try it again,” Jenna says. “I’ll grab the edge when it pops out.”
I’m not sure how this will change anything other than possibly breaking Jenna’s fingers, but Jenna’s stronger than I am, and she’s already getting herself in position. “Ready?”
“One…two…three…”
I yank and push the top while Jenna pulls the bottom, and somehow the door swings open.
And that is when the police cruiser drives up.
We spin to face the street, and the officer leans out of the window enough to shout, “Step away from the vehicle, please!” Then he cuts the engine and starts typing something into his computer. After a minute, he turns away from the computer, and I brace myself for a very uncomfortable conversation. But no, he just starts talking to somebody over the radio.
We stepped away from the vehicle like he asked, but now it’s like he’s forgotten we’re here. The officers and bailiffs are always friendly enough in my dad’s courtroom, but mostly they ignore me.
Am I lucky enough for that to be what’s happening now?
“Can we go?” I whisper to Jenna. “Is he even here for us?”
Jenna looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Honey, you don’t leave when the cops pull up. Even if you’re Daphne Sharp.”
Yeah, okay.
Finally he finishes talking and climbs out of the car.
And it’s Officer Vega. The same guy from earlier.
“Ladies,” he says, giving us a nod. “Ms. Sharp, I told you to keep asking questions, not to try breaking and entering.”
I’m panicked, sick, but Jenna is cool as Glacier Cherry. “Just trying to help, Officer.”
“Have you been in the house?” he asks.
“No, sir. It’s locked.”
“So was the truck.”
He has a point.
Jenna frowns. “Was the truck locked when you were here earlier today?”
He hesitates, which makes me wonder if it wasn’t. If maybe somebody’s trying to keep somebody else out. Maybe Jake’s mom, keeping things secure, but maybe not.
Officer Vega clears his throat. Whatever he’s thinking, he’s not about to sha
re it with us.
“Anything I should be concerned about here, besides the fact that you were breaking and entering? Did you remove anything from the premises?”
“No, sir.”
He looks at us for a few long seconds. “Okay, then. Why don’t you let me take it from here?”
“Of course,” Jenna says. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help. There’s going to be a search party, right? Amber Alert? Flyers? We could help with flyers.”
“We’ll be sure to let you know,” he says. “Thanks for the offer.”
“You’re so welcome,” Jenna says. “We’ll go finish our run. Have a nice day.”
Apparently now is the time when it’s okay to walk away from the officer.
Or maybe not.
Officer Vega gives her half a smile. “Oh, I’d say you’ve finished your run. I’ve arranged for a ride for you girls.”
What does that mean? A ride in his cruiser? The possibility makes my stomach churn, but when another car pulls up and the driver gets out, it’s every bit as bad.
“Hi, Dad.”
He doesn’t even answer. Just comes around and opens the back door, and Jenna jumps in without a word. I think about sliding in next to her, but that would feel like climbing into a cop car, and I am not a prisoner or a suspect here. I don’t exactly want to sit next to Dad, but I want to stand up to him even more. So I step around him and sink into the passenger seat, realizing too late that I’ve shown him the crude message on the back of my shirt.
He’ll blame Jake for all of this. He’s always blamed Jake for things that weren’t his fault.
Once Jenna’s dropped off at home, he lays into me, with a “directly disobeyed” and a few rounds of “so disappointed.” I didn’t technically break my promise, but still, I know better than to argue with him when he’s in hyperparanoid-judge mode. So I don’t say a word, just stare out the window and nod at the appropriate times. Even though I’m probably in more trouble than I’ve ever been in in my life, it feels better than when I was standing there, feeling helpless, after the police interview.
“You’re not going anywhere but school for a very long time.”
Fadeaway Page 3