Janie’s mouth quirked. Alyvia could always make her smile. “Kaylee Cross is on there. She graduated three years ago. And these two.” She tapped a couple of other names on her page. “I recognize them but don’t remember their names. They’re older, too. Maybe graduated with Cross or the year after.”
“Tabitha Downing and what’s-her-face. Babs, I think they called her. Huntsman. Yeah, I think you’re right. Three years ago. These other two on my list? One is Deedee Bakker. She was in the Kisser’s foster home with me for a few months. Remember when I had to live in Akron?”
Janie did. Two years ago, there had been no home available in West Bend, and Alyvia had been placed across the state. That had lasted for a few months until she’d been returned to her mother’s care—for the last time. In a drug-induced frenzy, Sheila Naughton had stabbed her daughter for eating the last frozen pizza, and authorities had removed Alyvia for good after that. “Where is she now?”
Alyvia gave her a look. “Like we’re pen pals? Who the hell knows? And this last one I recognized . . . I don’t know her name. But I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her before. Last summer, at a party at the lake house.”
The lake house was a home outside of town built on a wooded lot edging a man-made lake. The most elaborate home in the vicinity, it had stood vacant for years since its owners had gone through a bitter divorce. The story Janie had heard was that the husband refused to sell it because he’d have to split the proceeds with his ex. It was more likely that no one around here could afford it. At any rate, the small beach behind it was a frequent site for keggers, and every year someone at the high school seemed to acquire a key to the place and hosted parties until the cops shut it down again.
Alyvia went silent then for a moment before saying, “So . . . what do we do with this? I mean, it’s interesting and all, especially finding Miller and her posse on it, but unless you want to make her pics public . . .” She held up a hand to squelch Janie’s protest. “Not arguing—much—but if not, it’s a big nothing burger.”
Avoiding her friend’s gaze, Janie returned her attention to the screen in her lap. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought . . . maybe that girl might be on here. Whitney DeVries.”
Her friend’s head swiveled toward her. “Why would you think that?”
Janie’s shrug was defensive. “I didn’t really . . . I just wondered if I’d see anyone else I knew. Someone might have stolen these from the cloud or whatever. That’s a crime.”
“Yeah. And that someone might have been Bogart. Which makes him a douchebag, but we already knew that, and again, who cares?”
A familiar anxiety spread through her. “I figure between the two of us, we’re more than halfway through. You know me. When I start something, I have to finish it.” Not exactly a lie, especially now.
Alyvia sighed. “I don’t have much time. The FPs went to conferences, and I figure when they get back, I’m going to get grounded, no matter how much ass I kissed last weekend. I thought maybe we could go to the mall. Hang out.”
“I have an appointment with Dr. Drake at four forty-five.” The thought was accompanied by dread. After a prolonged battle with her mother, she’d graduated to telephone appointments for the most part in the last few months. But the deal they’d struck meant Janie still had to visit with him in person a few times a year, and this was one of those times.
“Fine.” Alyvia scowled. “I’m probably living on borrowed time, anyway. I’ll go to the last number on the site and work toward you. How’s that?”
Janie sent her a quick look, touched. “It’s okay. You’ve helped enough.”
Bending her head over the keyboard, Alyvia said, “Not as much you’re going to help me with my chemistry homework. Pretty sure I have at least a half dozen late assignments. Also sure I’m going to hear about it shortly.”
“I will. Promise.” They worked in silence for forty-five minutes, until Janie’s eyes started to burn. Her phone vibrated. That would be the alarm she’d set up to remind herself of the appointment. The dread pooling in her stomach was an outsize response to the upcoming meeting. She didn’t mind Dr. Drake. Not really. What she minded was still having to see the man after fourteen years of therapy. She minded the niggling feeling she had that she was as cured as she was ever going to get. And Janie wasn’t at all certain how cured that actually was.
“I gotta go.” She lowered the lid of her laptop and looked at her friend. “Thanks a lot, Liv. I owe you. More than six chemistry assignments, probably.” Her friend was staring at the laptop balanced on her knees as if transfixed. “I can throw in a study jam for the chemistry semester final, how’s that?”
Only then did Alyvia look at her. And the expression on her face was terrible to see. “Liv?”
“I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t . . . oh, shit, Janie.”
Her heart began to pound on cue. Following the direction of her friend’s gaze, Janie leaned over and peered more closely at the screen. The world did a slow, nauseating spin. The girl in the picture was pretty. Dark-haired with a pout that showed she was comfortable in front of a camera. One hand was strategically placed in front of her crotch. The opened baby-blue sweater she wore was positioned to skim the edges of her nipples.
Janie recognized the photo. She’d seen it seven years ago.
It was her sister, Kelsey.
“Did you drive here? Or get dropped off?”
Dr. Drake’s question yanked Janie’s attention back to him. “I drove. I told you last month, driving is going well. No anxiety.” None, at least, that she couldn’t overcome with a little self-talk and some deep breathing. She’d waited until she was sixteen and a half to take the state-mandated driver’s education course, a full year later than most of her peers. But for her, tackling new experiences could come with unique challenges.
The mustache he was sporting was new. She wondered if he’d grown it to make up for the fact that his hair had thinned in the time since she’d begun seeing him. He smiled conspiratorially, showing a glimpse of very white teeth. “And how many cigarettes does it take before you start the car?”
He had her there. She lifted a shoulder. “Depends.” And smiled back at him. She might have spent a great deal of her life resenting the need for therapy, but Janie had always liked him. And she was honest enough to admit that he’d gotten her through the worst time in her life.
His expression sobered. “I’ve wondered how the disappearance of the girl from Saxon Falls is affecting your family. It can’t be easy to have the past dredged up again.”
Her chest went tight. “It never is.”
“I want you to remember the ways we’ve discussed coping during times like these. Insulate yourself as much as possible from the news. Find distractions. Focus on your future plans. And above all, reach out if it becomes too much.” She had to look away from the intensity in his gaze. “There’s no shame in any of that, Janie. You’ve come so far. The last thing we want at this point is for you to have—”