My skin crawls and I have an overwhelming urge to look behind me. There’s nothing I can do. It’s done. She’s gone . . . so why can’t I stop thinking about her best friend, Sam?
When my mom was alive, Samantha was a mostly functioning alcoholic. After my mom died, Samantha . . . was no longer functioning. Last I heard she was living on the streets in Atlanta. It would be next to impossible to find her. I don’t have the contacts. I don’t have any way of searching for her.
Unless I knew who to ask.
Milo might know. His dad is in a similar situation. Maybe he would know someone. I pick up my phone . . . and my fingers stick. We haven’t spoken since the Norcut thing and I don’t need Milo more involved with me than he already is. Plus, running after Sam would be stupid. I won’t find anything. She won’t remember.
But I have to try.
I run my fingers over the keypad, feeling sick. I should be reaching for Griff. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
I stab the send button and he answers on the first ring. “Yeah?”
“Milo . . . I need your help.”
Milo calls me back late Sunday night and says he thinks he knows where she might be. One of his contacts at the shelter saw Samantha two days ago.
“Great.” I stand up, look for something to write with. “Tell me.”
“No, I want to go with you.”
“Why?” I rub the skin between my eyes. That was not the right response. “No. This has nothing to do with you.”
“True.”
I stare at the ceiling, waiting. “So you’re going to tell me where she is?”
“No.” Milo laughs. “Seriously, why would you not want me to come? Is there some prereq to hanging out with you? I have to be a skinny emo kid?”
“Griff’s not—”
“Whatever.” The laugh curls up. “You want your Samantha? I get to come along. I’ve earned the outing. You wouldn’t have gotten into Norcut’s files without me.”
“Um, you do remember who you’re talking to, right?”
“Okay, fine, you wouldn’t have gotten into Norcut’s files as fast without me. Let’s go tonight.”
I study my closed bedroom door, listen to the house settle. It’s almost midnight and Bren and Lily have been asleep for hours, but they could wake up any minute.
Or they could stay asleep and I could sneak out and be back before anyone even knew I was gone.
I glance at the security camera feed running across my second computer monitor. Yard and street are empty. Either Kyle hasn’t found me or he’s biding his time.
I could use this opportunity, but . . . “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“At the moment? No.”
I am so not playing these games. I let the silence stretch between us as I debate how long it would take me to track Samantha down myself. I could try calling some of the shelters, pretend I’m a concerned relative.
“Why do you want to come?” I ask.
Milo’s sigh barrels down the line. “Morbid curiosity.”
It’s faster this way. Just do it and be done. “Meet me at the Waffle House at the airport exit.” I snatch my keys off my desk. “Be there in thirty or it’s off and I’ll do it without you.”
“I’m already on my way. I’ll see you in fifteen.”
31
By the time we reach Five Points, it’s raining again and the streets are starting to flood. Milo finds a parking spot along a side street and we spend a moment staring through the windshield, saying nothing.
“For the record, this is why I needed to come along.” Milo gestures at our surroundings. “See? Scary, isn’t it? If the need to hold on to me overwhelms you, please feel free.”
“Somehow I’ll find a way restrain myself.”
“Well, you can try.” Milo cracks his knuckles, watches how the rain spreads like fingers against the glass. “You know this is stupid, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You know you won’t find anything?”
“Yeah.” Slowly, I turn my head to stare at Milo. He meets my eyes and whatever he sees makes him blow out a long-suffering sigh.
“Jesus, fine. Let’s get this over with. She should be this way.” He points to our right, down a narrow alley that runs parallel to the subway stop.
“Ready?” he asks.
I tuck a bottle of Bren’s wine, still cold from the refrigerator, under my jacket and nod. We slog down the flooded sidewalk and turn in to the alley, pulling up under a tattered awning.
“I can’t see a damn thing.” I pull my hood tight, hunching against the rain blowing in. “How’re we going to find her in this?”
Milo shrugs. “We actually have a better chance of finding her—only so many dry places she can be. Plus, she might not feel like running away if it means getting soaked.”
He has a point.
“Little farther in?”
I nod. If this were a movie, this would be the part where we find her. Except we don’t. We look through lean-to tents and under shop awnings for almost an hour and never see her.
“Wick.”
It’s Milo. I turn away from a homeless woman whose eyes remind me of my mom’s and wait for him to catch up with me.