“All right,” she says abruptly, “I think it’s time we get Mick in here and hear his side of the story.”
“He admitted he was leaving gifts for Brianna.”
Okay. Deep breaths.
“That doesn’t mean he had anything to do with her disappearance.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Ron nods. “But—-”
There’s a sharp knock on the door, and then it jerks open. A voice—-Mr. Goodall’s secretary—-calls, “He’s gone! Hurry! He took off! Ry—- Officer Greenlea went after him. Hurry!”
After letting himself into the Mundys’ empty house with the key hidden beneath the flowerpot, Casey picks up the orange prescription bottle sitting on the kitchen windowsill.
He noticed early on in his surveillance that the first thing Rowan does every single afternoon when she walks in the door is take her ADHD medication.
Casey has been sneaking capsules out of the bottle over the last few months. Not enough for her to miss, but enough to suit his purposes.
Now, he dumps the contents of the plastic bottle into his pocket and replaces them with the identical capsules he’d stolen from her. He’d emptied their contents and refilled them with the same medication—-the so--called date rape drug—-he’d slipped into Rick’s drink the night he died, to make things easier on both of them.
He’d been caught off guard when his stepfather left him a message on Sunday wanting to talk. He was certain Rick must have somehow figured out what was going on, and he knew he’d have to do something about it.
He didn’t want to kill Rick. But he had no choice.
Rick sounded glad to hear from him on Monday night and claimed he only wanted to reestablish the connection that had been lost in the year since Vanessa had died. He said he’d been on his way to meet a friend for dinner but his plans had changed last minute, and suggested that they connect for a drink.
Thinking quickly, Casey lied that he was in Jersey City on a local job and offered to meet Rick at his apartment.
He arrived at the building just as Rick did, and his stepfather greeted him with a warm hug. He didn’t seem suspicious . . . but maybe he was covering up.
Casey proceeded with the plan, but there was no joy in it.
When Rick had passed out, he dragged him to the tub, ran a bath, and slit both his wrists with Rick’s straight razor from the medicine cabinet. It wasn’t the one Vanessa had used, though Casey had kept that.
Casey had kept a lot of things.
One memento he’d preserved in Vanessa’s scrapbook had come in especially handy.
Rick had left her a note when he walked out on her the first time. She’d crumpled it and thrown it away, but Casey had plucked it from the trash.
I can’t do this anymore. You’ll be better off without me. I’m so sorry.
It was the perfect suicide note. Rick had written it himself.
Casey hated to part with that keepsake.
But now he has an even better one: Rick’s cell phone.
Fleeing the school, Mick has no idea where he’s going, exactly. He only knows that he has to find Brianna.
He starts out running at top speed. A safe distance away, he slows to a trot and then a walk, feeling weak and still a little nauseated. He’s panting, and his heart seems to be beating in time to the mantra in his head.
Find her . . . save her . . .
He pulls his phone from his pocket to see what he can learn from social media.
Great. His phone battery is almost dead—-again.
At least it lasts long enough for him to find several links to an official missing persons bulletin that features a photo of Brianna and a physical description. She hasn’t been seen since she went to bed on Monday evening. A few of her friends mentioned having heard from her late that night. The presumption is that she got up and went jogging as usual.
Find her . . . save her . . .