“No, we don’t,” I say, probably too quickly. “We can stay in the car when we get there. We’ll do whatever—”
The sergeant holds up a hand, silencing me. “I’d quit while you’re ahead, kid.” The don’t test me look on his face is pretty convincing. And if I push too hard, he might demand to see my identification. Might do some kind of search and learn all about what happened in the diner or about the police Dr. Shepard has sent after me. “If there’s anybody up there, we’ll be bringing them all in for trespassing, at a minimum. Then you can see for yourself whether one of them is your friend.” He nods like that’s the end of that. Though I can’t really see how Officer Kendall is going to bring in a bunch of people in his one car. Probably because the sergeant has already told him not to. “Now, about three miles past town there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts at a Hess station. It’s one of the few places with decent cell coverage. I’m sure Officer Kendall wouldn’t mind giving you a call after he’s checked out the camp.”
The sergeant looks to Officer Kendall for confirmation. Kendall frowns some more, then nods.
“Come on,” I hear Jasper say. “Let’s go get a doughnut.”
“I don’t want a doughnut,” I say through gritted teeth.
He puts a firm hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, you do.”
Outside, it feels much colder as we make our way down the steps. And I feel so much worse than before we went into the police station. It’s knowing that there’s nothing to do now but wait that’s getting to me the most. Wait for news on Cassie, wait to see if the Seneca police realize who I am, wait to see if everything is going to be okay. I look over at Jasper as we finally reach the old man’s truck. He’s swinging the keys in his hand, shoulders loose, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.
“What are you so happy about?” I snap.
“Happy?” He looks confused as he heads over to the driver’s side. “What are you talking about?”
Good question. What am I talking about? And why do I even care if Jasper is feeling better? I don’t know why I care. But I do, and it is seriously pissing me off.
“You were awfully quiet back there,” I say to him over the back of the truck.
Jasper raises an eyebrow. “What was I supposed to say?”
“Something, anything,” I say. “It was kind of like you were on their side.” That isn’t true or wasn’t true, at least not until the very end, when I did feel like Jasper was too quick to leave just because they told us to.
“On their side?” he asks, and still with the wounded face.
“Even now, all you’re doing is repeating what I’m saying!” I shout, and so loud that my words echo in the quiet. “Do you ever have an original thought about anything?”
Jasper’s jaw tenses as he looks away from me and over the dark center of town. Mission accomplished: he’s mad now, but trying to keep his temper in check. “I didn’t say anything because you seemed like you knew what you were doing and I didn’t want to get in your way. Until the end, when you started losing it and I thought you were going to screw yourself, and us. So excuse the hell out of me for trying to have some respect. If that makes me a dick—whatever, fine,” Jasper says, yanking open the truck door. “And I’m not happy, trust me. But do I feel better now? Hell, yes. Going to the police feels like the first good decision we’ve made.”
“Yeah, well, I feel worse.”
“Maybe that’s because you are so insanely pessimistic,” he says, and not in a nice way. “You always feel bad.”
I roll my eyes. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” he says, glaring at me.
Before I can respond, I see something catch Jasper’s eye behind me. When I turn, Officer Kendall is headed our way. He looks left and right like he’s checking that the coast is clear. Did they get word about me? Is he here to hold me until someone comes?
“M-m-meet m-m-me around back,” he says when he reaches us. “At the c-c-corner.”
It’s a bad stutter. Maybe why he didn’t say much inside? But a stutter for sure doesn’t mean he can’t arrest me.
“Why?” I ask, trying to sound casual. (I do not. Not in the least.)
“You c-c-can ride along,” he says. “I had a g-g-good friend who OD’d. I g-g-get it. J-j-just d-d-don’t t-t-tell my boss.”