I call the number for the car service on my itinerary and cancel the driver.
With that obstacle down, I make a piece of toast and shove a couple of water bottles into my bag. I don’t know where we are going yet, but Dax had alluded to the fact that the trip might take more than a full day. I’ve got enough packed, but the idea of staying overnight in some strange town with Haden makes me shiver.
My phone rings. It’s Tobin once again. He’s been so busy researching the names of the different Lords who have lived in Olympus Hills—to little avail—that he hasn’t really noticed that I’ve been avoiding him. As much as I want to answer and tell him everything I’ve learned since the night of the festival, I don’t. Number one, because then it would make all of this seem real and not just like a crazy fever dream I’ll wake up from. And number two, because it means I have to tell him what I’ve learned about Abbie, and I’m just not ready to do that yet. I can’t, because then that will be real, too.
I let the call go to voice mail, but he doesn’t give up. While I’m finishing getting ready to leave, he calls two more times, and then sends a text.
Tobin: 911! I must show you something. Call me!
I wonder if he’s found another bit of information that I can’t tell him will lead to another dead end, but I decide to respond or he’s probably not going to stop all day.
Me: Can’t talk now.
Tobin: Then I’m sending it to you.
A few seconds later, my phone buzzes again. He’s texted me a picture. It’s of a list of names.
Me: ?
Tobin: That’s the list of names of girls who’ve gone missing from town. The one in my mom’s files. I went to double-check it last night to make sure I didn’t miss anything … and I saw that a new name has been added. Look at the bottom of the list.…
I enlarge the picture and scan through the typewritten names—and then land on the name Daphne Raines written in crisp, clean handwriting at the bottom.
Tobin: Your name is on a list with a bunch of missing girls! What does that mean?
I know exactly what it means. The mayor—Tobin’s mother—isn’t only aware of the girls going missing in her town; she is complicit beforehand in letting it happen.
But I can’t tell Tobin this right now. I can’t tell him via text—or phone call, even—that his sister is dead and his parent is somehow involved in what happened. I can’t think of a worse betrayal than that.
A new text comes in, but this time it’s not from Tobin.
Haden: Are you ready to go? I can be there in fifteen minutes.
Talking to Tobin will have to wait until I get back. I send him a text.
Me: I really can’t talk about this now. Call you later.
And then I send a text to Haden, telling him I’m on my way over to his place. I know I could wait for him to come pick me up, but I can’t stand the thought. I don’t want to sit around waiting one more minute. I need to be moving. Maybe I’m crazy for going anywhere with an underworld prince who’s full-on admitted that he wants to steal me away. Maybe I’m crazy for thinking I can change his mind. But I have to do everything in my power to try.
Haden is loading a duffel bag into a Tesla Model X in his garage. It’s a strange car, with three rows of seats and doors that raise up like falcon wings instead of opening outward. Haden nods when he sees me, and an expression of relief crosses his face—as if he’d convinced himself I wasn’t really coming.
He takes my suitcase and places it in the trunk next to his.
“Where’s your Model S?” I ask, referring to the car he usually drives. It had kind of become synonymous with him in my mind. His electric black chariot …
“Dax took it out this morning,” he says. I can tell by his tone that things are still strained between the two of them. “I almost stole his Roadster but figured this car would be more comfortable for a longer journey.”
“So Dax isn’t coming with us?” I wasn’t sure if he would, but I had kind of liked the idea of having a buffer in the car.
“He said something like, ‘This is your journey to take, Haden.’ ”
“How very Gandalfy of him.”
Haden raises his eyebrows like he has no idea what I’ve just said. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I look around the garage. “Did he give you the information?”
“Yes.” He hands me a slip of paper.
I open it up. “Seriously?” I laugh, but it sounds more like a groan.
“What?”
“Sarah Smith. Las Vegas, Nevada. That’s all he told you?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“Only because there are probably, like, a hundred or more Sarah Smiths in Las Vegas!” When Dax told me he could give me a name and a town, I had pictured something more like Ellis. You can walk into any shop on Main Street and give any shopkeeper the name of any resident and you can get step-by-step directions to their house. “Vegas is huge, and Sarah Smith has to be one of the most generic names in the world. You sure Dax isn’t yanking your chain?”