I wondered if I should leave Lacey in the room and go over to the pub. I pulled back the curtain, noticed a few trucks parked outside. What if those men were there? I couldn’t show the photo around—they might overhear me or recognize Crystal. I’d have to wait until morning when it wasn’t as busy.
We stayed up late watching TV. Lacey talked through most of the shows, not seeming to notice my lack of response. I got up a few times when I heard a vehicle in the parking lot, looking for Crystal’s car. My car was right in front of our room. I’d checked for more parking behind the building, but it just backed onto another road and I didn’t think Crystal would park on the street.
I felt restless, my fingers needed to do something. I started playing around on my laptop. Lacey asked what I was doing and I showed her how to mix a track. I told her she had good rhythm, though she actually kind of sucked. She seemed so proud that I started feeling really bad, like I’d lied to a little kid and told her there were presents under a tree when I knew there weren’t.
After she finally fell asleep I stayed up for another hour, thinking about Crystal, listening for cars in the parking lot. What had been her plan? If she was here to kill those guys, how would she get close to them? I checked my phone, looked up the local newspaper. I didn’t see any news stories about anyone being shot or any kind of violence recently. So where was she? I was scared that something might’ve happened to her already, that I was too late, but I reminded myself that Crystal was really smart and tough. I just had to find her.
The next day I’d talk to Owen from the pub and drive around town, looking for her car. Maybe I’d drive by that ranch—but I didn’t know how I could find out if she’d been there. It wasn’t like they’d tell me.
In the morning, I heard Lacey moving around in the room. I opened my eyes. She was pulling on her clothes, her back to me.
“What are you doing?” I said.
She spun around, whispered, “I’m just going to the office to grab us some coffee and muffins before they’re all gone.”
“Okay.” I shut my eyes, put the pillow over my head, and drifted back to sleep. A while later I woke up, stretched, and glanced over, expecting to see Lacey on the other bed. She wasn’t there. I looked at the clock. I’d fallen back to sleep for over an hour. Shit. I sat up.
“Lacey?” I called out. Maybe she was in the bathroom.
Silence.
I got up and pulled back the curtain, couldn’t see her anywhere in the parking lot. Weird. Maybe she’d gone over to the diner? No, she didn’t have any money. I showered, dressed, did my makeup and hair. Lacey still wasn’t back, but I was kind of relieved. She must’ve gotten a ride when she went for the muffins.
I grabbed my purse from the floor, looked for my phone on the night table. What the hell? I searched around on the floor, checked in the bathroom, panic beginning to take hold. Did Lacey take it? I went through my purse again—and realized my wallet was gone too. I sat on the edge of the bed, breathless and shaky like I’d just gotten off a roller coaster. She’d taken all my money and ID. Then, an even more horrible thought—my laptop. I looked in my packsack. Gone.
I sat on the floor with my back against the bed, my empty packsack in my hands, staring at it and trying to make my mind believe what I was seeing. I felt around inside the packsack again, hoping for a crazy moment that I was mistaken, that this hadn’t just happened. I remembered teaching Lacey how to use my software the night before. I’d told her how my mom had used her vacation pay for the laptop, then I’d saved up for the software. She’d told me I was so lucky.
I tried to think how much it would cost to buy new stuff, thought about all my set lists and the beats I’d saved, all my music, all gone now. It would take me forever to replace everything—and Mom was going to kill me. I remembered how excited she’d been when we’d picked out the laptop, how she’d insisted it be brand-new even though I said used was fine—she wanted it to have a warranty.
I pressed my head between my knees, squeezed hard against my temples, and started to cry. Then I thought about how I’d bought Lacey dinner and got mad again. She said she wasn’t good at anything, but she was a good thief.
I grabbed my shorts from the day before, checked my pocket. I still had a couple twenties and thankfully my car keys. I went out to my car, searched in the glove compartment and the console, under the seats, and found a five-dollar bill and some change. At least I had a full tank of gas and some food. I was also glad I’d kept my switchblade under my pillow and not in my purse.
I thought over my options. I could call Mom and tell her what happened and she might be able to wire me some money, but she’d freak out and order me home. I walked over to the office. The same woman was behind the desk.
“Did you see my friend in here this morning?”
“That blond girl? She was hitchhiking up the road last I saw. Got picked up by a car.”