“I know that.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
I opened the car door. “I will destroy you if you ever say anything.”
He nodded at me like he believed me. And although it was the last thing I wanted to admit, I was pretty sure I believed him now too.
*
My phone, now that it was powered up, told me Joshua Evans had been three of the six missed calls and five of the texts. Shelby was two of the calls and the rest of the texts. No real news, just a handful of operational updates—such as the Amber Alert—followed by apologies for bugging me. Danielle Stockton was the sixth call, a detail I could not consider at the moment. No calls from the unknown number while I was in the cell, a small blessing. I drove back to Providence Street and parked in front of the Evanses’ house. It was just before eight. Joshua’s car was still in the driveway. A light was on in the living room. I hoped he hadn’t been up all night. He answered the door about two seconds after I knocked, as if he had been waiting for hours for someone to show up. At first he looked relieved that it was only me, but then he looked confused as he took in my face. “What happened to you?” he said.
“I’m sorry for the radio silence,” I said. “I got arrested.”
“What…?”
“It’s a long story. But I hope I didn’t add to your stress.”
“No, I just wasn’t quite sure what to think,” Joshua said. “You were here, and then you weren’t.”
“I’m sorry. I was trying to help.”
We looked at each other. It seemed like he had indeed been up all night, his eyes bleary but wild. He was wearing a too-tight Ohio State sweatshirt with a coffee stain on the front. “There isn’t anything new,” he said softly. “Last night, there were police all over the block, talking to everyone. A neighbor down the way thinks he saw her cutting through to go to the Wildflower Plaza, but that’s the last anybody saw. The police have been real helpful, real on top of it. Amy Wexford’s in bad shape, though.” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine, your kid missing.”
My face burned. This man is her father, I repeated in my head. “I know,” I said. I didn’t know how anyone could think the police were doing a good job here. But I didn’t want to take that small comfort away from him. Not when I had nothing to replace it with. “Is Shelby at school?”
“No, she’s in the shower. I told her she didn’t have to go to school. Just thinking about what you said, to keep her nearby. We’re going to go out, put up some flyers. We did some last night, but Shel’s been making a list of other places Veronica likes to go. You, uh, you’re welcome to come with us,” he finished.
It broke my heart, the way he said it. The way he still thought I could help them. I wanted to stay, even if I couldn’t help. But I could only make things worse at this point, what with the entire police force hating my guts. I needed to go home and regroup and try to figure out another connection between the girls. A real connection this time. “I can’t,” I said, and he nodded quickly, embarrassed. “I just wanted to check on you guys this morning. But can I take some flyers?”
“Sure, yeah, yeah,” Joshua said. He went into the kitchen for a beat and then returned with a stack of printouts. MISSING. Below the headline, Veronica smiled out from the same picture Shelby had given me yesterday, the one with the ceramic turkey.
We both looked at the photo. Everything about it looked impossibly normal.
Except Veronica was gone.
She was gone, and I was here. It didn’t seem fair.
“Keep me posted,” I told him.
But on the street, a Belmont cruiser was parked next to my car. “What do you want?” I snapped at the street, although I couldn’t see who was inside the car. If it was Jake Lassiter, I was going to scream.
But the door opened and Meeks got out, holding his hands up like calm down. “I didn’t call this in yet—”
“Call in what?” I crossed the lawn in a few strides. “Is there no parking on this street? Tell me what the fuck you could possibly call in.”
He looked slightly afraid of me. “You can’t be here. Lassiter is adamant that you be arrested on the spot for disorderly conduct. And charged, this time.”
Disorderly conduct was a blanket charge that covered any number of wrongdoings. Still a fourth-degree misdemeanor. But the Belmont police clearly weren’t just talk where it came to their misdemeanors. I felt my teeth grinding together. “I just want to find this girl.”
“I know. But listen, so do we.”
I shook my head, smiling out of disbelief.
“We do, Miss Weary,” Meeks said. “There’s an Amber Alert. We’re checking area hospitals, jails, bus stations, you name it. We are on top of it. The best thing you can do for Veronica Cruz is just leave us to it, okay? Every cop in town is looking for her. We don’t need to waste time looking for you too.”
“That’s on your boss, not on me,” I said, but the meaning of his words was clear. And I realized that he was right. It was absurd that Lassiter was doing this, but I couldn’t deny that he was. Even the three minutes we’d been talking here meant three minutes Meeks hadn’t spent on Veronica. I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse, but I did.
“We will find her,” Meeks said. “I promise.”
He couldn’t promise that, not to me, not to anyone. I got into my car without saying anything else.
TWENTY-NINE
I slept all day. When I woke it was after six and my room was dark. The experience in the jail cell seemed crazy enough to be a dream, but it wasn’t. I hurt all over. But I got out of bed and checked my phone, running a quick Google search to see if Veronica had come home. She hadn’t. I sighed. Then I pulled on clean clothes, because I was due at my mother’s house for our weekly dinner.
I made a point of not looking at the cardboard square still taped to the front door as I walked down the hall. I would deal with it at some point—soon—but not right now. In the bathroom I considered my cheekbone in the mirror, my seldom-used makeup bag in hand. Then I decided not to bother. The bruise was too big to effectively conceal with makeup, and the cut was still painful to the touch. The rest of my face was pale. I dragged a brush through my hair, which was tangly and strange because I’d gotten directly into bed after taking a shower. I would be impressing nobody tonight. But my family, now that my father was gone, could be counted on to accept me more or less as I came.
Or so I thought. When I walked into the house, it was clear that this was not the place to be if I wanted to take my mind off my problems. Matt was parked on the couch and barely looked up from ESPN, while I could hear my mother’s and Andrew’s raised voices from the other room.
“I don’t see why you can’t just leave it!” my mother was saying. “How many times do I ask you for anything?”
“Are you happy now?” Matt muttered.
“Me?” I said.
“Yes, you,” he said.