B00B9FX0F2 EBOK (10 page)

A
t a small table at Michael’s, Pete Schmidt and Camille Piangiani were breaking up. They had been together since sophomore year, and Pete still loved Camille, but when he started at the University of Colorado next year, he didn’t want to be thinking about someone in Chicago. It was a scoop any Roosevelt High student would have bragged about getting, and on a normal day, Jason would have claimed credit for breaking the news, but he hadn’t even noticed them sitting down in the booth next to him. Instead, he stared straight ahead as the words “Lacey had a secret boyfriend” drowned out all the other noise in the room.

When Jenna had arrived at Michael’s, she’d introduced Max, a tall, dark-haired boy with pale wrists poking out of a leather jacket and string-bean legs clad in stiff skinny jeans. Before Jason could ask what he was doing there, Jenna slid into the booth and urgently whispered the news to him. As he heard it, he felt the earth tilt under him, as if any moment the three of them, complete with their booth, would slide away, like deck chairs on the
Titanic
. The weirdest part was that he felt even more betrayed than he had when he found the obituary. He told himself it was silly — he was overreacting, and slowly his vision righted itself. The booth wasn’t going anywhere. Like so many other things, this was just a misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry, what are you doing here?” His eyes were locked on Max and his own voice sounded unfamiliar.

In another life, Jason and Max could have been friends. In another life, they could have met up at shows and traded playlists, even started a band together. But right now, in this restaurant, Jason was filled with angry envy that Max had spent time with Lacey, had seen the light of day move across her face and the swing of her hair, the movement of her arms.

“Jason, can we talk in private for a second?” Jenna asked as she rose from her seat.

Jason nodded, hoping a moment away from the table would help clear his head. When they stepped outside, the icy March air hit him like a slap in the face. He had to stop sulking.

“We have to tell him what’s going on.”

“We can’t,” Jason protested. “I promised her we wouldn’t tell anyone.” As he said it, a tide of anger swelled inside of him. He’d agreed to keep Lacey’s secret, but she’d conveniently omitted the one that hurt Jason the most.

“I know you did. But he’s going to be more helpful to us if he knows the whole truth.”

“Lacey’s in danger. Until we know who made her disappear, we can’t tell
anyone
.”

“Max is different. He’d never hurt anyone. And we can trust him. All of his friends are musicians in the city — he barely talks to anyone at school. I’m sure he’ll keep anything we tell him on the DL.”

Maybe it was the boyfriend Lacey had concealed from him, or maybe it was the way Jenna looked at him with those pleading hazel eyes, but Jason felt his resolve soften. “You’re positive about this?”

“Yes. Look, I wouldn’t do this if I thought it might put Lacey
in any more danger than she’s already in. Whatever Max knows about her is going to help us figure out where she is and keep her safe.”

“Okay,” Jason said at last. He was tired of hiding things, tired of arguing.

When they got back inside the diner, the food they’d ordered was waiting for them on the table. Max put away his phone when they slid back into the booth. “So,” he said, picking up a french fry, “are you guys going to let me in on the secret?”

Jenna and Jason exchanged a glance. He signaled for her to go ahead.

“I guess that was sort of obvious,” she sighed. “I’m sorry. Look, Max, there’s something you should know, but you have to swear you’re not going to tell anyone what we tell you.”

“So I can’t put this on my blog?” he asked in mock disappointment.

“This is serious. Can we trust you?”

“Yeah,” he said, the sarcasm gone.

“All right.” She took a deep breath. “Remember how I told you Jason and Lacey were Facebook friends?” He nodded. “They’ve been talking since
after
Roxy’s party.”

“Wait, you mean you’re communicating with her in the afterlife?” The question was equal parts skepticism and confusion.

“No,” Jason answered, adding quietly, “Lacey’s still alive.”

“Um, I hate to be the one who has to tell you this, but you sound kind of insane.”

“He’s not,” Jenna answered sharply. “Listen, Lacey’s not gone. She’s hiding somewhere. I know you’re not telling me everything you know.”

He looked chastened. “Okay,” he said slowly. “But why should I believe you?”

Jason let Jenna tell it. He was grateful for the opportunity to tune out for a few minutes. He picked at the fries on the table, but his mind was somewhere else, somewhere where he didn’t have to compete with some mystery guy for Lacey’s affection. He told himself he was overreacting — it’s not like they were technically together and she hadn’t promised him anything — but it did little to soothe the knot of jealousy that was twisting in his gut.

Max’s deep voice interrupted Jason’s internal monologue. “How can you be sure it’s actually Lacey?”

“Wild Flag made her favorite album of last year. She sings Robyn at the top of her lungs when she’s alone in her car. You were teaching her to play ‘No Children’ on the guitar, except she was getting tripped up in the first verse.”

Max looked stunned, and then turned to Jenna for a response. “It’s true,” she said. “Trust me, I was as freaked out as you look right now, but she told Jason things about me only she could have known.”

There was a long pause during which Jason decided he didn’t care whether or not Max believed them. But when Max finally said, “You’re right, I didn’t tell you everything,” he felt validated in a small way.

“It didn’t seem like my place,” Max continued, “I barely knew her before that summer. I mean, when she came up to me in school last year and asked if I would teach her to play the guitar, I thought it might be some sort of joke. Lacey was nice and all, but between her brother and her friends, I was pretty
sure she was a stuck-up princess.” He looked over at Jenna and added, “No offense.”

Jenna flinched, saying ruefully, “We weren’t always the nicest.”

“But she dropped some names. She said Kim Gordon and John Darnielle were her heroes and she wanted to play like them, and I was like ‘Oh, okay, this girl is a lot cooler than I thought.’ So I said I’d work with her and we started hanging out. Nothing formal at first, just a couple hours every couple weeks, but then she got more serious about it, and so we started meeting on a regular schedule, like, every Tuesday or whatever.”

Max’s eyes darted around the room nervously as if someone might stop him at any moment. Though he spoke with a powerful deep bass, there was a shyness about him that was hard to square with the idea of him performing in public.

“When school let out, a lot of her friends were gone for the summer, so we started hanging out more. Mostly just playing — she was getting really good, actually — but we went to a couple shows, and I guess we became friends. But then things got weird.”

“Weird how?” Jenna asked.

“Usually she’d just come over to my house — I have a soundproof garage where we could play as loud as we wanted. But there was this party at her house one night.” Max lowered his voice. “She was kind of coming on to me. In front of her brother and all his friends.” Jason remembered Jenna’s quick dismissal of the possibility that Lacey was into Max:
Max
so
isn’t her type
. He looked over, but her face was inscrutable.

“I got the feeling that she was into me, and I was, like, not mad.” Jason looked down as Max spoke. Without realizing it, he’d gripped a fork under the table so tightly the blood had gone out of his knuckles. He placed it back on the table and shook out his hand, waiting for Max to continue. “But I had it wrong.” He faltered and turned to Jenna. “This is the part I started to tell you.”

“Lacey got in a fight with Luke,” Jenna offered.

“Is that weird?” Jason asked.
We’re close. When he’s not being a crazy jock frat boy in training.
If Lacey had described her relationship with her brother that way, maybe they were always fighting.

“It got pretty aggressive. And” — he paused and sipped from his Coke before adding — “she was arguing with Troy, too.” Jason’s mind went instantly to the snapshot.

“See?” Jenna said under her breath. “It must have something to do with why she left you that photo.”

Max looked back and forth between them, and Jason realized he hadn’t finished with his story yet.

“So they were mad at her for inviting you?”

“Luke for sure wanted me out of there, and he wasn’t shy about saying so. After he made that clear, I didn’t really stick around to ask questions. And then after that night, things with Lacey were different. She apologized for her brother, but she stopped texting me so much. Something in her just closed off. She’d check her texts and then look like she’d been swallowed by a dark cloud.” He took another long sip of his Coke before continuing. “One day her phone rang, and she said it was Jenna so she had to take it. I wasn’t trying to spy on her or anything,
but I went out in the driveway to get some air and I could hear her. She was saying all this stuff about secrets and how she couldn’t keep lying about them. And then the last thing I heard was ‘I’m scared of what Luke will do to us, but I’m more scared of not being with you.’”

“Lacey and I only talked on the phone once that summer, and it was before that night at her house,” Jenna said. “Besides, we were close, but not like that.” She laughed weakly.

“So Lacey had a secret boyfriend,” Jason said slowly. His throat was tight. He knew Lacey had secrets, but he didn’t want them to be about another guy.
You have to know that what’s between us is real
. He wanted to confront her, but he was scared of what she would tell him. Instead, he asked Jenna, “Who do you think it was?”

She took a minute to think about her answer. “I’ve been trying to figure this out since you started to tell me yesterday. Don’t take this the wrong way, Max, but you’re not the first guy who thought he might have had a shot with Lacey. She didn’t ever want to tell anybody no.”

“Honestly,” Max said, “I didn’t care who it was. I just didn’t want any more drama. I guess she was distracted by everything, because she left her phone at my house.”

“And you went through it?”

“
No
,” Max snapped. “I didn’t even realize it was there until it rang. I saw a text. It was from someone named Casey, and it said, ‘911 — I need to see you tonight.’”

“There are two Caseys at Brighton,” Jenna said thoughtfully. “Casey Franklin is a freshman, and I’m pretty sure Lacey never even met her. The other Casey was friends with Lacey, but he was also the first boy in our grade to come out, so that doesn’t
make much sense either.” She pressed her lips together. “I guess now we’re back to square one. You have to ask her about it. What was the last thing you heard from her?”

“I messaged her that you and I talked. I also asked her …” He felt foolish bringing up his mysterious midnight visitor in front of Max. “I asked her about the photo,” he finally managed. “And I’ve mostly stayed off Facebook since then. I’ll see if there are any new developments when I get home.”

It was only later that night that Jason registered that the girl crying alone in the booth he’d passed on his way out of Michael’s had been Camille Piangiani. He wondered idly to himself whether she and Pete had broken up and if so, why. They always seemed so happy together.
The realest thing I have right now
. Lacey’s words echoed in his mind. He was beginning to wonder if things were ever what they appeared to be.

A
t least Rakesh didn’t gloat when Jason told him the news about Lacey. “Dude, forget about her. There are plenty of fish in the sea. C’mon, let’s find you someone who’s not playing mind games with half of Brighton.”

“She’s not — you’re missing the point. Another girl is the last thing on my mind right now,” Jason said.

“See, that’s your problem.”

“Whoever she was seeing has to be part of the reason she disappeared. So what if she had another boyfriend?
I’m
the one she’s talking to now. And I said she could trust me.”

“Yeah, but you can’t trust her.” Rakesh’s argument was echoing his own concerns, but Jason wouldn’t admit it. “She’s been lying to you about her past, and mad shady about her present. You don’t owe her
anything
, and if I were you, I would get out of this situation yesterday.”

“You’re not me, though, are you?”

“You’re right. If I were you, I would definitely not wear that shirt to school.”

Jason looked down at the Ghostbusters logo emblazoned on his chest. He’d gotten the T-shirt at a thrift store in the city, and he liked it, though he hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention when he got dressed that morning.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”

Rakesh sighed dramatically. “Finding you another girl is going to be a nightmare.”

“Good, then we can give up on it now,” Jason said defiantly.

“If there’s nothing I can do to change your mind, then I at least want in on the action. What’s our next move?”

“Oh, now you want to be my sidekick?”

Rakesh stared at him indignantly. “A of all, there is a hot girl who faked her own death sending you desperate messages on Facebook. Of course I want a front-row seat to this. B of all, I would never be your sidekick. I am all leading man. But seriously, how are we going to find her?”

Jason had wondered the same thing. “I guess we wait for her next message.”

Rakesh rolled his eyes. “Damn, you are not good at this at all. Wait? You want me to wait?”

“I want you to shut up. And if you have a better idea, I am all ears.”

Though Rakesh suggested going undercover at Brighton High as British exchange students (“Blimey, mate, did you know a bird called Lacey, eh?” he demonstrated, his accent somewhere between Australian surfer and Russian gangster with a dash of German from a Nazi movie thrown in for good measure), when it came down to it, he didn’t have a better idea. And so Jason was left to wait.

He understood Rakesh’s impatience. He had spent seventeen years waiting for something to happen, and now that it had, he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of twiddling his thumbs and biding his time until Lacey saw fit to tell him what his next move ought to be. He logged in to his Facebook, and before he could
open a new chat with Rakesh, he saw the red “1” in the top left corner of his screen.

My brother has something we need; I need you to get it. He keeps it in the glove compartment of his car. Luckily, there’s no alarm, and my dad makes him keep a spare copy of the key taped under the back bumper. But seriously, he will KILL you if he catches you. When you see it, you’ll understand why I’m being so intense about this.

One more thing: You have to go TONIGHT. And you have to go alone. No Rakesh. No Jenna. It’s the only way we can be sure my secret stays safe.

I hope when this is all over that you’ll forgive me for asking so much of you. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve liked you since we started talking, Jason, but I am starting to care about you more than I ever have about anyone, so you have to believe me when I tell you to BE CAREFUL.

Lacey had sent it only a few minutes before, but when he looked at his contact list, there was no green dot next to her name. His heart lurched in disappointment at the sight of it, and for the briefest of seconds, he felt like Gatsby, beating on toward some distant and impossible green light. Then he shuddered. The idea that he and Katie Leigh had something in common was almost as terrifying as the idea of communicating with the dead.

Having been mostly rule-abiding since childhood, Jason always thought sneaking out of the house was a question of scaling brick walls and shimmying down tree branches. So when it came time for him to leave under cover of darkness, he dutifully pried open his bedroom window, swung one leg over the sill, looked down the two-story drop, and promptly scrambled back into his room. Why risk breaking every bone in his body when he could exit silently via the kitchen door? Which is exactly what he did. He flinched at the growl of the Subaru’s engine when he started the car, but to his good fortune, his mom’s room was on the other side of the house than the driveway. He backed out slowly and waited until he’d reached the end of the block before turning on his lights.

After he’d read Lacey’s message, he’d gone back to the dusty phone book and entered the Grays’ home address into Google maps. He’d checked it on street view to see if he could get a sense of what he’d be up against, but all it showed was a stately Georgian home on an ominously gray day. The sidewalk in front of it was empty, as was the driveway, giving Jason the ghostly impression that it was completely abandoned. If only it were as deserted tonight. It would make his job much easier.

He’d gone around his house with an empty backpack to gather supplies, but after he tossed a flashlight and extra batteries in, he couldn’t think of anything he’d need. Breaking into cars wasn’t his strong suit, Jason supposed. He’d grabbed a ski mask from his closet, and a crowbar — just in case — and waited for his mom and Mark to go to sleep.

On the drive to Brighton, he tried to picture what he might find in Luke’s glove compartment. Alone in his car, he had to keep himself from getting carried away with the gory visions — a
severed hand or loose eyeballs like props from a child’s birthday party. A gun seemed more likely, though no less alarming.

The house was dark when Jason arrived, and he parked at the end of their street, cutting the engine and calculating his next move. Unlike in the photo he’d seen on Google, there was a silver Mercedes parked in the driveway. Something told Jason that was Mr. or Mrs. Gray’s car, not Luke’s. Which meant the car he was looking for was out of sight and closer to the house. The lone streetlight was out — a small mercy — and Jason felt like a criminal as he crept up the block, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up around his face, hands shoved into black jeans. He was about to become a criminal, he supposed, what with the breaking and entering. Or just entering. If he got caught, it probably wouldn’t make a difference that he’d had a key. One more reason not to get caught. As if he needed another.

When he reached the Mercedes, he felt under the bumper just in case, but there was nothing there. He made his way up the driveway as stealthily as he could, keeping close to the hedge that ran along the far side. Though the spring air had a wintery bite, nervous sweat beaded on Jason’s brow as he approached the back of the house. If any one of the Grays happened to look out a window, they’d surely see him; the only question was how long it would take them to call 911 — or decide to take matters into their own hands.

Behind the house there was a small lot with three cars. One small, the type of practical affair that got good gas mileage, another covered by a tan tarp, and the last a hulking cherry red Jeep. Bingo. He made a beeline and reached under the bumper, glancing behind him to make sure he was alone. There was no one there, but a huge window allowed him to see into the Grays’ empty
kitchen. He shivered involuntarily. He was about to give up and check the hybrid when his fingers struck something metallic. He tugged at it, and came away with a magnetized case, inside of which was a key. Luke had upgraded his security system since Lacey had last been here. Jason hoped he hadn’t added an alarm.

A bass drum seemed to have replaced his heart in his chest, and it pounded away furiously as he slid the key into the passenger-side lock. Part of him hoped it wouldn’t turn. He could slink back down the driveway, take himself straight home, and hide under the covers.

He coaxed the door open, the creaking hinges banging like thunder in Jason’s ears. The overhead lights popped to life as soon as he did, temporarily exposing him. He winced, and switched the lamp off manually. He was glad he’d had the foresight to bring the flashlight in his backpack, but when its powerful beam nearly blinded him, he cursed himself for losing his pocket-size one in the woods.

Jason didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that the glove compartment contained no bloody body parts or weapons. He riffled through the paperwork, wondering if perhaps there was a letter, but it was exactly what you’d expect: insurance, a leather-bound manual, and a few straight receipts. He examined them with the flashlight, but they were from gas stations. Had Lacey sent him on a wild-goose chase? It had been so urgent that he come tonight — maybe Luke had moved whatever Jason wasn’t supposed to find. Whoever had texted him seemed to be watching Jason’s every move; perhaps they’d gotten here first. Flipping through the pages of the manual, Jason searched for some sort of clue, and when the computer flash drive fell out, he knew he’d found what he’d come for.

“Jackpot,” he breathed, feeling for a moment as if he really had won the lottery.

Quickly, he returned everything to its rightful position and locked the car, and he was about to hurry back to the street when he found himself bathed in light. Over his shoulder he saw a man — Mr. Gray, he presumed — clad in a bathrobe and slippers standing in his kitchen with a bewildered expression. At first Jason froze, and then his reflexes sprang into action. He dropped to the ground. If Lacey’s dad was coming outside, he’d never get to the bottom of the driveway unseen. He looked around wildly, and decided his best hope for concealing himself was the tarp covering the third car. He army-crawled toward it, and had just ducked underneath when he heard the door open and a man’s voice asking, “Is somebody out here?”

Jason was almost certain he’d left everything exactly as he’d found it, but it felt like an eternity before Ed Gray was satisfied enough to return indoors. The door slammed shut, and though the muscles in his thighs were on fire, Jason continued squatting until he was sure the light had gone off as well. He exhaled deeply and straightened his legs. Only then did he become aware of his surroundings.

Under the tarp next to Jason was a boxy black Volkswagen.
I call her Vinnie cause she’s vintage.
He flicked on the flashlight to be sure, this time holding his hand over the front to dim it. His breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t the physical proximity to something that belonged to Lacey that shook him. It wasn’t even the realization that this was definitely the vehicle that nearly ran him down when he was leaving the bridge.

It was the sight of his cowboy-boot flashlight strewn on the backseat that made his blood run cold.