Not wanting to be a witness to Freya lying her way past our parents, I head to my room.
I don’t bother mentioning that getting in trouble with the law could mess up her plans to attend veterinary school at the University of Minnesota. Knowing her, even if she got kicked out of college, she’d still move up north. She’s talked about nothing else since she heard about all the lakes they have, saying she’s sick of living in the desert.
I shut my bedroom door and sigh.
It’s a little weird being back here after getting used to living on campus. But we don’t have classes on Monday, so I decided to spend the weekend at home.
Free food and free laundry are hard to turn down.
Plus, I have to admit, it’s kinda nice to be around my family again.
I eye my bed.
I’m a little tempted to blow off studying so I can lie in bed and watch some crappy TV. But I don’t.
Dropping into the desk chair in the corner of the room, I flip my Health Law and Policy book open.
I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. Probably watched too many movies growing up. But righting wrongs, being the good guy, eventually being my own boss… What more could a man want?
I rub my eyes and look at the clock on my nightstand. Just after six, and I didn’t go to bed until after two.
I start to roll over, intending to go back to sleep, but my mom’s voice, pitched higher than usual, filters into my room through my closed door.
My parents are early risers, but not on Sundays. And Mom never raises her voice.
A pit builds in my stomach as I toss my blankets off.
In my pajamas, I head out of my room.
When I reach the top of the stairs, Dad’s voice speaks over Mom’s.
“Tell her we’ll call her back. We need to call the police.”
The pit turns into dread, and I hurry down the stairs, my bare feet quiet on the carpet.
“You heard him. Yes. Okay.”
I turn the corner into the kitchen in time to see my mom hang up the phone.
“Give it here.” Dad holds his hand out, and Mom gives him the handset.
He dials three numbers, then puts the phone to his ear, his free hand settling on my mom’s shoulder.
They haven’t seen me yet, so I stay where I am, listening.
“Yes. I need to report—” Dad’s voice hitches, and Mom presses her hands over her mouth. “I need to report a missing person.”
A missing person.
“… Eklund… My daughter…”
My sister.
“She was last seen…”
Freya is missing.
I take a step back.
“Comet, yes, the club.” Mom’s shoulders are shaking, and Dad’s knuckles whiten around the phone. “We didn’t know she was going…”
I did.
I knew.
“Her friend just got home ten minutes ago. Her parents thought the girls were in bed.” Dad’s head sags forward. “Kay thinks they were drugged. She doesn’t remember how she ended up at another friend’s house. But—But Freya, my girl, she wasn’t with her.”
Freya got separated.
“I know it hasn’t been twenty-four hours.” Dad’s tone changes. “I will call the mayor—”
I should have stopped her.
Mom turns away from Dad with a whimper and spots me.
I don’t hear the rest of what my dad says because Mom rushes toward me and throws her arms around me, hugging me tighter than she’s ever hugged me before.
The cop gives us one last look before he steps out the door, shutting it behind him.
The only reason he’s even here is because Dad has money.
The cop asked questions and wrote down our answers, but I don’t think he really believes she’s missing and not just partying.
There’s no news.
No signs of Freya.
She’s been missing since yesterday morning.
My fist pounds against the locked back door.
Comet is closed, doesn’t open for a few more hours, but cars are parked in the employee lot. And if the cops won’t get us any fucking answers, I will.
I pound my fist again.
Finally, it opens.
“Forget your key?” the man asks before he realizes I’m not a fellow employee.
Before he can slam the door in my face, I stick my foot out, keeping it open. “I need to talk to someone.”
“Look, kid, if you lost something, you gotta wait till we’re open. Then you can check the lost and found.”
The darkness that’s been bubbling inside me since I first heard my mom’s worried voice expands. Filling more of my soul.
I shove the guy back.
Surprise is the only reason I get him to move. He’s got fifty pounds and twenty years on me, but he still stumbles.
Then he rights himself and pushes me in the chest. “I’ll fucking end you, you little shit. Get the fuck out.”
I shove his hands away. “I’m not leaving until I talk to someone.”
The man steps into my space. “You rich pricks think you can do whatever the fuck you want.” This time when he pushes me, he pushes me hard, and I clip my shoulder on the edge of the shelving unit next to the doorway.
He probably saw my car parked outside the door. Saw the luxury model and figured I’m here because I’m just another spoiled shit trying to get his way.
“My sister was taken!”
I shout it.
I shout it with all the rage and worry and anguish inside me.
“Someone here saw it!” Heat fills my eyes.
But I don’t care. I don’t care if he sees me cry. I don’t care if he punches me. If he breaks all my bones. Nothing will stop me from finding Freya.
The man freezes, his eyes widening, before they flicker away and back.
He knows something.
“Who?” I hiss, stepping into his space. “Who has her?”
His head is shaking before I finish asking. “I don’t know anything about any girl.”
He’s lying.
I grab for his shirt, but he swats my hands away.
“Tell me!” My voice breaks. “She’s only eighteen.”
“Just like I told the cops, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He raises his voice, and something about it is off. Like he’s doing it for someone else, not me. “You need to go.”
My breaths are coming heavier now.
“Who?” I whisper.
“Out. Now.” He’s still talking loudly, pushing me backward toward the door. Then his voice drops to a whisper, just like mine. “Marcoux.”
I step out into the daylight, and the door slams shut in front of me.
“Dad?” I keep my voice quiet, not sure if he’s awake.
None of us have gotten any sleep since…
His head lifts from where it rested against his desk.
It takes his eyes a moment to focus. “Hans? Come in.”
I step through the threshold. “I… I have a name.”
It’s a different officer this time, and the sympathy on his face looks as fake as his hair.
“So…” He glances down at his notepad, like he can’t remember what I said twenty seconds ago. “You went to Comet, without telling anyone you were going, and then bullied some employee into giving you this name.” He says name like the one I gave him is alien, not French.
“I didn’t bully him,” I snap. “And I’m nineteen. I don’t need to tell people where I’m going.”