“Well, I didn’t want any of your neighbors to see me loitering on the porch, just in case they know my parents.”
Not likely. My street was full of blue-collar types. Waiters, retail workers, the occasional mechanic or plumber. Maybe her pool man lived in the neighborhood. “Much better for my neighbors to see a strange girl walking in like she owns the place,” I said. “Aren’t you supposed to be playing office assistant?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be dressed?” she fired back, taking in my plaid pajama bottoms with an amused glance. “What is going on?”
“Preston still hasn’t come home.”
“I gathered that much. I get to school and there’s no you and no Preston and then there’s suits busting open both of your lockers and interviewing people—”
“Wait, what?” Shit. Maybe lying to the FBI had done no good at all. There were so many people who might blab about Liars, Inc. if McGhee or Gonzalez asked. “What did you tell them?” I asked, trying not to panic.
“Nothing. They didn’t talk to me.” She sounded a little bit hurt that she hadn’t been interrogated. “They only talked to the teachers. And they tried to be slick about opening the lockers. They waited until everyone was in class. No dogs or anything. Just two guys in plain clothes. I saw them when I was sneaking out.”
It sounded like McGhee and Gonzalez were still keeping things quiet for now. “They’ll probably ask you stuff eventually. What if they’re right and something bad happened, P?”
Parvati glanced around. Her eyes zeroed in on the front window. The sky had gone from clear to white. Thick, fluffy clouds obscured the sun. She dropped her voice slightly. “You think he’s really missing? Like kidnapped?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “If Pres got arrested or something he would have called one of us, right? Maybe his phone got lost or stolen, and then his car broke down on the way back from Vegas. Maybe I should go look for him.”
“But if he had car trouble he’d just flag down someone else or walk to town, wouldn’t he?” Parvati tugged at the ends of her hair, something she only did when she was anxious. “Let’s go by his house and see if Esmeralda will let us in his room. Maybe we can find this girl’s address or phone number, figure out for sure where he went.”
I had only been in Preston’s bedroom a couple of times. We always hung out in the basement. I got the feeling he was really private about his stuff. Even when he had parties, people stayed downstairs or out by the pool.
I checked the time on my phone. I still had almost four hours before I had to pick up Amanda. Plenty of time to run by the DeWitts’ and call McGhee afterward. “Okay. Good idea.” I traded my pajama bottoms for a pair of black cargo pants and pulled a hoodie over my T-shirt.
Parvati and I hopped in my car and headed across town to the exclusive neighborhood where Preston lived. This whole area was done up in Christmas decorations. Swags of evergreen twisted their way down lampposts, and picture windows glistened with fake snow.
“Duck down,” I told her as we drove through an ivy-covered stone archway wrapped in white lights. There was a much greater chance people who lived in this neighborhood might know her parents.
I slowed my car to a stop a block away from Preston’s three-story house. There were two black Lincoln Town Cars parked in front that might have been FBI, as well as a couple of smaller sedans I didn’t recognize.
Parvati stared at the line of cars. “It looks like they’ve got a whole command center set up already.”
“I asked about that. Apparently, the fact that Preston is a senator’s kid means everything gets expedited. They have to assume this could be a political thing until they know otherwise.”
“But Preston is eighteen. He can legally vanish anytime he wants. This doesn’t make any sense.” She turned to face me. “How long has it been since you’ve tried to call him?”
“A couple of hours.”
“Let me try,” Parvati said. “If he did just decide to bail for a while, he’d tell me.”
Was she insinuating that he wouldn’t tell me? I was the one he asked for the alibi, after all. I waited while Parvati found Preston’s name in her contacts menu and pressed call. She put the phone on speaker, and I swear it took an eternity before it started to ring.
And then “Burst into Flames” started playing, ever so faintly. “Did you call me accidentally?” I asked. I pulled my phone out of the side pocket of my cargo pants, but the screen was black. What the hell? “Call him again,” I said.
Parvati called Preston again. Once more, Alexis Destroyer, the lead singer for Kittens of Mass Destruction, started shrieking about how she was going to make me catch fire. It was almost like . . .
Both Parvati and I turned toward the backseat. It was empty except for a crumpled fast food bag and a couple of soda cans. “The trunk,” we said simultaneously.
I reached for my key fob and popped the trunk. I slid out of the car, casting a wary glance at the vehicles down the street. As usual, no one was paying me any attention. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky had gone from white to gray. The breeze off the ocean was cool, but a heaviness hung in the air, a thick blanket of humidity that signaled an oncoming storm. You know how fast things can change around here. Had Preston been talking about more than just the weather?
I pawed through the camping gear that was still in my trunk. Parvati materialized at my side. She called Preston again. This time the music was louder. I shook the long nylon bag that his fancy tent was in. Nothing. Next I undid the top of my gear bag that was full of cooking equipment. Nothing. I pushed both bags to the side. Nestled at the very bottom of my trunk was a phone.
Preston’s phone.
I didn’t even know we had the same ringtone.
Parvati’s pretty face looked up at us from the screen. It was a picture from when her hair was still long. Above her left shoulder, a red rectangle flashed a low battery warning. Without thinking, I reached for the phone, my fingers closing around it just as Parvati said, “Don’t touch it.” Her almond skin paled slightly. “You might mess up any fingerprints.”
“It must have gotten mixed up with his camp stuff and he forgot it,” I said. “No wonder we haven’t heard from him. I’m surprised he even made it to Vegas without his cell.”
Parvati was staring at my hand. She didn’t seem to have heard a word I had said. “Max,” she started. “Look at your fingers.”
I looked down. My right hand was smeared with flecks of reddish brown. Something that looked like rust.
I transferred Pres’s phone to my left hand as Parvati took my right hand in hers, bringing my fingertips close enough to her face so that she could smell them. Before I could stop her, she touched my index finger to her lips.
“It’s blood,” she said.
THIRTEEN