Need (23 page)

He grabs his coat out of the closet, pulls his work bag out from under the bed, and unlatches the window. NEED doesn't want people to break its rules. She opened her mouth. Said too much. Now he has to make her pay.

I
SLIDE MY CHAIR BACK
and stand up so fast that I almost lose my balance.

I didn't do it. I didn't order the cookies and kill Amanda. I can show Officer Shepens the message Yvonne sent, but when I read it again I realize she has chosen her words carefully. Nothing in the message suggests that the receipt for the cookies is a fake. Yvonne is warning me about the oncoming danger, but she isn't willing to risk incriminating herself in the process. The evidence against NEED is stacked in my favor, but how long will it take to convince Officer Shepens of that? Too long. Because every minute spent proving my innocence is time taken away from saving Nate. My mother warned me to stay home. But I have to get out of here before Officer Shepens arrives.

I slam the lid of my laptop shut, then grab my backpack from beneath my bed and stash the laptop inside. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing, but I know that I have to move—fast.

I have nowhere to run to that is indoors and safe. The snow is still falling hard. I don't have my license yet. I don't have a car to drive and I don't know if I could actually drive without crashing in this weather, so it doesn't really matter. What matters is that I get out of here quick.

I pull off my jeans and sweater, race to my dresser, and yank out the top left drawer. Where are they? There. Under the pantyhose and slip my mother insists I need but I never wear is the two-piece long underwear set I wore the last time I went skiing with my dad. Ugh. They're tight and too short and rip in the crotch when I squat in an effort to stretch them. But the tear makes them feel more comfortable, so I leave them on and pull my jeans back over them. Not the best fit, but most of my sweatpants are ratty and have tears in them. It's better in this weather to have something be tight and warm than roomy and drafty.

I go downstairs, grab a box of granola bars I spot sitting on the counter, and shove it in my bag as I run to the front closet for my coat, scarf, hat, and boots. Time to go. I sling the backpack over my right shoulder, grab a flashlight from the garage, then hurry to the front door.

No. If Officer Shepens is close by, he'll spot me when he turns down the street. I have to go another way.

The back door is in the family room. It opens onto the patio, which is directly in the middle of the house and can't be seen from the street. I take off my glasses and tuck them in my pocket next to my cell phone so I can find them quickly if I need them. The blurred vision adds to the fear tightening in my gut, but I grit my teeth, open the door, and head out into the cold.

The snow is deep. At least a foot of snow has fallen in the last couple of weeks and several more inches have fallen today. The faster I try to go, the more I lose my balance. I turn toward the wooden fence that separates our yard from the Jeffersons'. A fence with a loose board that I've snuck through hundreds of times. Although not when carrying a backpack on my shoulder and wearing heavy winter clothes.

I wiggle slowly through the tight opening and then I start to run.

I veer to the left of the Jeffersons' property, where the snow isn't as deep, and race toward the street. A car door slams somewhere. In the quiet of the snowy surroundings, the sound makes me jump as if it were a gunshot, and I run to Jeffersons' house. Is Officer Shepens at my door? Is he ringing the bell? Does he know I've run?

I reach the road and wrap my arms around myself as I look in both directions. Which way should I go? A pair of tire tracks makes the choice simple. Running on packed-down snow will be easier than making my own path. And there won't be as many footprints to follow. It's as good a plan as any.

As I reach the end of the street, I hear my phone ringing in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the display. Officer Shepens. He has to be outside my house, wondering why I'm not answering the bell. Sweat trickles down my neck as I consider what to do next. I had only thought as far as getting away to keep from being arrested. But I have no idea what to do now that I'm out here. Alone. Where do I go? How do I find Nate? And gnawing at my nerves is the terror of whatever NEED is planning next.

I follow the tire tracks toward downtown Nottawa and push myself to move faster. When I reach a stop sign, I glance behind me. No one is there. Yet. I'm not far from Nate's house. I can make it, but I'm betting that's where Officer Shepens will go next—although I'm less scared of that than of Jack telling NEED that I'm there.

A church? They have to give sanctuary, right? Somewhere in the distance I hear a siren and I start running again.

I have to find Nate. Who can help me do that?

Bryan? I could look up his address and wait for him there. But if his parents or anyone else spots me hanging around, they could call my mother or the police.

The cold makes it harder to breathe. My jeans are caked with snow. I have to get out of the cold, but I have no friends to turn to. I used to have friends. Before Dad left. Before DJ got sick. Before I felt so guilty and unhappy and angry. I told myself I needed only Nate. Suddenly I realize how much better this would all be if I had allowed my other friends to help me. If I hadn't pushed them away because they didn't fall in line with what I thought I needed. I have no one I can ask to help me. For the last year my life has revolved around our house, Nate's home, the hospital that's been treating DJ, and school.

School.

I stop to get my bearings. Nate lives another block away. The school is just a couple blocks from there and the houses nearest to that building are far enough away that I won't be noticed—especially not in this snowstorm. I can't go inside, but the high school has all sorts of alcoves and overhangs where kids without cars wait for their rides after classes. And if those are too exposed, I can duck under the bleachers on the football field or see if I can break the lock on the Newt Café that's used to serve soft drinks and hotdogs during games. The place has looked like it's going to fall down ever since I can remember, but it would be shelter.

Even if I can't get in the café, I now have a plan and a direction to run in. I avoid Nate's street on my way to the school. The tracks I was walking in have disappeared. Here and there I find new ones to use, but mostly I keep to the side of the road. The two cars that pass me go slow. One looks like it might stop to ask if I need help or a lift, but I keep my head down and veer toward a driveway so it looks like I've reached my destination.

I rewrap my scarf around my nose, mouth, and chin and pull my hat down so it almost covers my eyes. Finally, in the distance I see the blurry shape of a long brick building and pick up my pace. I doubt I've ever been so happy to see Nottawa High School before.

I force myself to run toward the front entrance, which is covered by a large overhang. When I reach the alcove, I stand in the corner next to the wall that is out of the wind to rest a minute. I slide down the brick to the cold, snowy cement and huddle against the wall, wishing I were somewhere warm.

My phone rings. I reach into my pocket and pull it out, expecting that it's Officer Shepens. Instead, it's Bryan.

Oh thank God. He must have changed his mind about Nate—otherwise, why else would he be calling?

I fumble to take my gloves off so I can answer the phone and say, “Hello?”

“Kaylee?” Bryan's voice is strained and he sounds out of breath. “I'm so sorry. It's Nate. He's gone.”

D
RIVING IN THE SNOW SUCKS
. Driving in the snow with a guy screaming his head off in the back seat of the truck sucks way worse. Sydney is just glad his dad didn't need the truck. Otherwise, he'd probably have driven his mom's Civic into a ditch. Someone in this hick town should think about plowing at some point. It's not like the snow is just going to remove itself.

Suddenly, everything gets quiet. Thank all that's holy. The screaming has been getting on his last nerve. Who can drive in this weather and deal with something like that? Of course, Sydney really can't blame Nate. After all, who wants to be trussed up like a duck and thrown into a truck to be taken God only knows where? Sydney's glad he's the driver instead of the duck. Still, guilt tugs at him and he's sorry it isn't Nate's brother, Jack, that NEED has plans for. Jack is a first-class jerk. Nate never did all the bull the popular kids do. He wasn't the type to pick on the freshmen or laugh at someone when they tripped in the hall. Hell, he didn't even care if someone laughed at him. Jack and Sydney, however, don't get along. In fact, they went a couple of rounds last year when Jack mouthed off about Sydney's dad not having a real job. But Nate. Nate had been okay.

Had been. Has been, he corrects himself. Nate is still alive, and will be after Sydney drops him off. For how long . . . well, there's no way for Sydney to tell. Not without asking questions. And Sydney knows that if you ask a question, you have to be willing to hear the answer. For this, Sydney already knows the answer will be bad.

The documents he was told to forge Nate's signature on gave him an idea of what is coming. Turns out, the two of them have a similar writing style. And even if they didn't, Sydney doubts anyone will look that closely at the signature. After all, the facts are right there.

Of course that's only
if
Sydney decides to follow his instructions. While he's racked up a bunch of cash from the work so far, there might be a bigger payoff. A bird in the hand is good, but at this point he might risk that for the flock sitting in the bush. His dad likes to say that life is filled with opportunities. For once, his dad might be onto something. And Sydney isn't about to let this opportunity pass him by. One stop will tell him which path to take. If things work out, Nate won't have to worry about that forged piece of paper. If not . . . well, sacrifices have to be made. And Sydney isn't about to sacrifice himself.

G
ONE
.

“What do you mean Nate is gone?” I yell. “Where did you take him?”

“I'm sorry. NEED told me to put Nate in the back room of the old post office.” Bryan sounds tired. Lost. Confused. As angry and scared as I am. He takes a deep breath and keeps talking. “I like Nate. I didn't want anything to happen to him, but I figured I had to do what I was told. If I didn't, someone else who might not like Nate would have, and they know what I—That doesn't matter. What matters is that I parked across the street and waited to see who would come for Nate. But the snow made it hard to see, and by the time I checked the post office again, he was gone. Someone took him and I don't know who or where.”

Gone. I lean my forehead against the icy bricks and shiver.

Nate.

I want to scream, but I have to think. Think.

“Where are you now?” I ask.

“I'm driving home. I promised my parents I'd come home.”

“Come to the school. That's where I'm at.” Getting Nate back is the only thing that matters. Bryan has to know more than he's saying even if he doesn't think he knows it. Just one detail that he doesn't think is important could make a difference.

“Why are you at the school? Is it open?”

“NEED set me up. The police are looking for me. They think I caused Amanda's death.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“The cops were told . . .” I remember the way everyone doubts everything I say and change course. “Look, it's complicated. I'll explain when you get here.”

“I have to go home or my parents will flip and start looking for me. They might even call the police.”

Having the cops looking for Bryan won't help me.

“Okay. Go home. Check in with your parents, and when they go to bed, come to the school and find me.” My phone says it's 10:36 p.m. His parents won't stay up all that much longer, probably. I guess I can stay warm enough until he gets here. When Bryan doesn't say anything, I add, “Please, Bryan. Nate's out there somewhere, scared to death, and you're the reason why.”

Not entirely fair, since Bryan wouldn't have taken Nate on his own or without the help of Jack, but I don't care.

“Fine.” He sounds unhappy. Too bad. “But it might be a while. My mom likes to stay up and watch reruns on the weekends.”

“Just promise you'll come as soon as you can,” I insist, shivering as the wind whips again. The alcove shields me from the worst of it, but my teeth have started to chatter. “And check NEED before you come. See if anything else has happened. Maybe someone will post a picture that will help locate Nate. Promise?”

“I promise. I'll call or text as soon as I'm on the way. Try to stay warm.”

“Sure.” Then Bryan is gone and only the cold remains.

The roads are bad, and it will take Bryan a while to get home. Then his parents will have to make sure he's okay, and probably finish watching a show before they go to bed. That means it will be close to midnight at the earliest before Bryan shows up and I can climb into the warmth of his car. And if his mother decides to watch a rerun marathon, it could be a whole lot longer.

I wrap my arms around me and rock back and forth. After several moments, I realize the snow is easing up. The wind just makes it seem like more. Soon the plows will be out clearing the roads. If someone drives by the school and glances this way they'll see me sitting here and wonder why. I'm going to have to move.

My phone dings. DJ is texting to say good night. I type my response, then gather up my things and head toward the faculty parking lot that's on the side of the school nearest the field house. Newt's Café is not far from there. It has to have an oven or something with a heat source. At this point anything warm would be good.