I manage a nod. I want to say something, but her words are so unexpected, when I start thinking about it, my throat feels like it’s closing up.
“This place is huge. I don’t know how you’re going to find your way around.” She takes my hand and squeezes as we start walking. “Actually, I know you’ll figure it out.”
THIRTY-FIVE
THE BELL RINGS AT THE end of sixth period and I’m out of my desk so fast, I make it halfway down the hall before it gets crowded enough I have to slow down. I wave to Deputy Brennan on my way toward the library. This is something I’ve always done when I’ve seen him, something I’ve continued to do all day. But ever since Marcus texted me last night, it’s just felt like drawing the deputy’s attention. My phone buzzes in my pocket as I reach the top of the stairs.
In the far lot. Parked by the art room.
I type a quick reply. Two minutes.
The deputy is supposed to check in with me between every class, but I missed him completely after calculus and we barely waved at each other just now. Maybe he’s more concerned about following Kirsten—her dad has every cop in town on edge. I pause above the stairs outside the library. There’s no sign of the deputy now, but my heart pounds as I make for the exit. I cross my fingers he’s not taking a break in the parking lot.
I look at the clock on my phone before pushing through the doors. The only thing I have after study hall is phys ed. I told my mom Aisha would give me a ride home, though I didn’t mention it to Aisha. Marcus and I should make it to Jamesville and back in plenty of time.
I step outside and force myself not to run.
The door of the Cadillac screeches like a wounded animal when I open it. The interior smells like air freshener and an old woman’s cigarettes. Marcus smiles at me from the other end of the red leather bench seat, which would make my heart flutter if he didn’t look just as nervous as I feel. I shut the door, trying to sink out of view as the car shifts into motion.
“Doing okay?” he asks.
“Fine . . . it’s just been a while since I cut class.” I sit up and look back at the windows of the school, as if they’re going to turn red and start flashing to announce my departure. “I only used to do this with Gretchen.”
“And she never got caught doing anything,” he mutters.
The car is warm, but all the windows are down. I don’t bother to ask if the AC is functional. We pass the sign that says Now Leaving Hidden Falls—Come Back Soon! And the space between us fills with the roar of the engine and hefty amounts of apprehension.
I fidget in my seat. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
We stop at a light and he looks at me, surprised. “You were on board last night.”
“I know. I just wish there was another way to do this.” I stare at my lap. “I don’t want to meet the guy.”
“I told you, he might let his guard down talking to us in a way he wouldn’t with the cops. We might get him to slip up.”
“But what if he doesn’t have anything to hide?”
“He already hid Gretchen’s car. And he was the guy in her room.”
I pause. This is all true. But if Gretchen had dirt on him before she died, she wasn’t keeping it on the SD card. We have to come up with something—maybe nothing as incriminating as a recording of him wishing her dead, but everyone seems to agree Alex Burke was bad news. His true interest in her likely wasn’t hearts and flowers.
“Maybe the cops have the timing off,” Marcus says. “They’ve only got footage of him coming back to the auto shop, right? So, what if he attacked you first, then killed her, then went back to her room to cover it up?”
“I guess . . .” When he puts it that way, I’m even more uneasy about meeting the guy face-to-face.
Marcus grips the wheel until his knuckles go white. “He could be threatening you because he’s scared you’ll identify him as your attacker.”
This could actually make sense. “But why would he do it like that? Why would he even have the picture from the party, and how could he get it into my locker?”
He goes quiet. “I don’t know. Unless he’s involved with someone else.”
I sink in my seat, suddenly relieved to be away from the school. I’m afraid this trip might come to nothing, but I don’t know what else to do.
I steal a glance at Marcus, in jeans and a black T-shirt. His face is mild, but he keeps his eyes glued to the road, like a gamer whose sole focus is making it to the next level. I think of everything Gretchen did to him—to us—and I just want to prove it was Alex Burke and not Marcus . . . somehow.
There isn’t much to Jamesville aside from a few roadside antique shops, a small historic district, and the auto garage. Marcus parks the Cadillac on the side of the road rather than pull into the lot. Then he gets out his phone, taps on the screen, and puts it in his front pocket.
“Testing . . . testing . . .” he says aloud.