“Kidnap her?” It just sounds ridiculous. “For what? It’s not like her parents are rich or something.”
“Sex slavery.” Jasper shrugs. “They sell girls into prostitution. I heard about it on NPR.” He shoots me a look. “And yeah, I’ve listened to NPR. All Things Considered. And no, not on purpose. One of the cooks at the IHOP is some kind of writer.”
“I guess it could be that,” I say, even though that does not feel at all right. And also, I do not want it to be true. “Listen, we know we have to call somebody, right?” I say, and it makes me feel a tiny bit better just to admit it. To start there and get that out on the table. “The police, Cassie’s mom, somebody. Or we can text Cassie and make her call them. Either way we’re going to need a cell signal. Why don’t we start with that? We drive until we get a signal.”
Jasper stares out at the road for a minute longer, until finally he nods.
“Okay,” he says without looking at me. Like he’s trying to convince himself. He puts his hand on the truck’s long gearshift, tugs it back into drive. “Okay.”
We drive on until the dirt road T’s back into Route 203, the diner and Seneca to our left, home to our right. To the right we know for sure we will have a signal, and soon even. If we go left we’ll be headed onward toward Cassie, but who knows how long we will have to drive in that direction before we have a signal again? Not to mention what other messed-up things might lie in store.
“So?” Jasper asks, knowing the question is much, much bigger than it sounds. “Which way?”
Neither option feels right or good. Jasper stares at the steering wheel like he’s considering. We should go home, that is what I think. Even if the police are waiting there for me. Even if they make me go to a hospital. Too much bad has already happened. We’ve gotten too lucky. We should call it quits while we’re ahead, or at least, still alive.
I’m about to say that—let’s go home—when Jasper pulls ahead and turns left. Onward and toward Cassie.
“Just until we get a signal,” he says, like it’s a thing we’ve agreed on. And I nod, even though I still feel like we should probably do the opposite. They are all bad choices now.
But going on toward Cassie and Seneca does mean we have to drive right past the diner. I hold my breath as we pull back onto Route 203 and I see that big sign for Trinity’s Diner floating again way too high in the distance. I brace myself for police cars. Sink lower in the seat, out of sight. But there are no flashing lights like Doug had said, no police. Maybe it should be a relief. No police means they’re not out looking for me.
But it is not a relief. Not at all.
“Do you see Lexi or Doug?” I ask.
“No, I don’t think so.” Jasper looks around some more. “I don’t even see their car.”
This too makes me feel worse. And I can tell from the way he says it that it doesn’t make Jasper feel better either. Because if Lexi and Doug are not in that parking lot, they could be anywhere.
“Do you really think Doug was trying to keep us from getting to Cassie?” I ask, as we roll on past and I push myself back up in the seat.
“Yes,” Jasper says without hesitating.
“And you really think it has something to do with a sex slavery ring?”
“No,” he says, just as fast.
“Oh, then what do you think it does have to do with?”
Jasper keeps his eyes on the road. “I have no idea.”
We’re quiet as we drive on, like we’re both trying to come up with some better, less frightening explanation for what has happened to Cassie and how it might connect to Lexi and Doug. But both of us are coming up empty.
“You know, I wanted to kill you back there when you yelled after that old guy,” Jasper says finally. “Pretty crazy how you got him to give us the keys.”
“Yeah, crazy,” I say, because that is the operative word. “It takes one to know one, I guess.”
“I don’t know,” Jasper says. “You had the right call with Lexi and Doug, too. If I’d noticed the empty car seat I might have been suspicious or whatever, but not enough to get out of the car. Imagine what would have happened if Doug had gotten us out in the middle of nowhere. I’m pretty sure I’d be dead right now. You’re two for two.”
“When you’re freaked out by everything, you’ll eventually be right about something,” I say, but I feel aggravated. Does he actually think all I need is one pep talk from him and I’ll be all sorted out?
“Maybe you should try to be more positive.” Now Jasper is annoyed that I’m annoyed. Because I guess I’m supposed to be honored or something that he is trying to help me. “You’d probably be less stressed all the time.”
My nostrils flare. And here I’d almost forgotten completely why I didn’t like him.