She shut her eyes and tried to think. The last thing she remembered, though, was leaving the police station with Julie. Welcome to Parker 2.0, she thought. Complete with scars, sullen moods, and memory blanks!
Parker looked down at herself. At least she was in the same clothes, even though they were caked with dirt. She patted her pockets. Her hand knocked against a hard lump in her hoodie, and she fumbled for her cell phone. Tuesday, October 25, it said at the top of the screen, as well as the time: 10:04 AM. Okay, so she’d only missed one night—she remembered parts of Monday. She quickly dialed Julie, but it went straight to voice mail.
Parker swallowed hard. It was rare that Julie didn’t pick up her phone. Had something else happened? Something to do with the Granger investigation? All at once, she remembered the serious-looking file she’d found at Granger’s house when they were looting it for clues. It had said JULIE REDDING across the envelope, and it didn’t look like a folder full of old essays. Did it have something to do with her mom’s hoarding, their quick and shameful exodus from California? It was a secret Parker had known for a while, something she’d worked hard to keep safe. Before Parker had realized what she was doing, she’d slipped the file out of Granger’s drawer and stuffed it into her pocket.
Or had it been about something else? Parker was sure she’d read the file—while still in Granger’s house, in fact—but she had no memory of what it said. Typical, she thought, patting her pockets, wishing she had the file with her now, though she’d undoubtedly left it back at Julie’s place. Her brain only worked half the time and remembered the least important of details, courtesy of her dad’s last beating.
She stood up and started to walk to the front of the strip mall, her legs feeling heavy and useless. The shops were open for business, their lights on, a little easel advertising a daily deal sitting in front of the Verizon store at the end of the strip. Then, she jammed her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt and felt a stiff scrap of paper in the left-hand side. It was Elliot Fielder’s business card, with his cell phone number scrawled on the back. Call me anytime, he’d said to her at their first meeting, which was also Parker’s first-ever visit with a therapist.
But that was before she’d caught him stalking her. And that was before she confronted him and he grabbed her arm roughly, saying she needed to listen. Listen to what? Julie had hissed in Parker’s ear when they left. And Parker had felt like an idiot—she’d let Fielder into her inner circle, decided she’d trust him, and told him everything about her life. And then he’d betrayed that trust by following her.
Parker turned the business card over in her hands. Call me anytime. His words tugged at her. She remembered his caring voice. But she couldn’t call. No freaking way.
Someone gasped, and Parker looked up. A pimply guy in his early twenties in a Subway tee stood just outside the door, smoking a cigarette. He stared at Parker, then looked away. Parker gritted her teeth and turned around, heading in the opposite direction—but not before her reflection in the nail salon next door caught her eye. She was dressed in dingy black jeans and a dirty black hoodie pulled tightly around her head. Her blond bangs had grown out and fell over her eyes. Then her gaze traveled to the taut, ropy knots of a scar on her cheekbone. It was just like all the others that formed a disgusting web back and forth across her face.
Shame welled up in her throat, and she choked back a sob. No wonder that Subway worker had flinched: She looked like a monster. Then again, everyone looked at her that way these days—like she had no business being here on earth, like she should just crawl back under the rock from which she’d come. It hurt every time. Only two people in the world didn’t flinch when they saw her: Julie . . . and Fielder.
Ducking around the corner and out of view, Parker pulled out her phone and looked at the keypad. Mustering up her courage, she punched Fielder’s number into her cell phone and hit SEND. Julie would be so pissed, but she needed to talk to someone.
The phone rang once, and Parker’s breath came fast and shallow, her heart pounding.
The phone rang a third time. Finally, the line clicked, and she heard a familiar voice on the other end. “Is this . . . Parker?” Elliot Fielder said, sounding surprised.
Parker blinked. She hadn’t expected him to recognize her number. “Um, yeah,” she said. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Fielder answered. “Are you . . . okay?”
Parker drew her bottom lip into her mouth. Suddenly she felt ridiculous for reaching out to someone she barely knew—and someone who had tricked her. She would find her own way back to Julie’s, then they would figure everything out together. “You know what,” she decided. “Never mind. I’m cool.”
“Listen, Parker—I know why you’re calling.”
She almost dropped the phone and looked around. Had he followed her here, to this crappy strip mall? She tried to spot him in the distance, but she didn’t see anyone around.