He’s looking at me like I’m nuts, and I know that’s exactly how I sound, but he finally pulls his keys out of his pocket and points toward his truck.
I run across the parking lot with him close behind, and I clamber into the truck, where I sit on the passenger side panting and looking around wildly.
“Drive, Ben. Just drive.”
The urgency in my voice affects him, and he puts the truck in gear, pulling out of the parking lot. He stays away from the center of town, taking us instead to the outskirts, where the local shopping center stands. He pulls into a spot on the far end of a grocery store parking lot, puts the truck in park, and shuts it off.
Then he turns, taking both my hands in his.
“What’s going on, St. Clair? Talk to me.”
I shake my head, not knowing where to begin. “Finn is in trouble. And so am I. And now, so are you.” I press my hands to my cheeks, sucking in a deep breath.
“What kind of trouble?” he asks. “What did he drag you into?”
“I can’t give you all the details, okay? But you have to trust me. Eversor’s got Finn, and she’s using him to get to me. And now, since she’s seen us together, she’ll probably go after you, too.”
“Wait—are we talking about Ms. Eversor? The teacher?”
“She’s not just a teacher. She’s sort of a criminal. And Finn and I found out about it and now she wants us dead.”
“Eversor.” He says it perfectly deadpan, and I realize there’s no way in hell I can make him believe me.
“I know it sounds crazy, Ben. I know it does. But you have to believe me. She’s got Finn, and she wants me. I have to save him.”
He leans back in the seat, rubbing his neck. “Okay. Let’s go see the police.” He starts to turn the keys in the ignition, but I reach out, stopping his hand.
“No. No police. She’ll hurt my mom and Danny if I call them—she made that clear. And she can get away from the police too easy.” I sound completely crazy, I know. “I have to figure something out.”
Ben looks at me strangely. “You really think she kidnapped a student?”
“She wants me to meet her at the bridge in Founder’s Park after school, but I don’t know if she’s holding him there.”
“Jessa—”
I turn to look at him full-on. “Where could she take him—and me—that no one would hear us? Someplace where she could easily arrange an ‘accident’ if she needs to?”
“I don’t—Jessa, this is really … crazy.” He’s struggling for words. “This is crazy,” he repeats.
“I’m not making this up,” I tell him. My mind is whirring, trying to figure out where she could possibly be keeping Finn.
“Wait a minute—she took a picture of my mom and Danny, and it was definitely today because Danny was wearing that same sweatshirt this morning,” I say. “Eversor’s free period is right before my class. I know because sometimes she’s up at the teachers’ lounge and we start class late because she’s not back yet.”
“She took a picture of your mom and Danny?” Ben is sounding alarmed now—I think he’s finally realizing this is serious. He glances down at my phone as I bring the picture up.
“That means she spent her free period over where they work, at Haven House,” I say. “The retirement home is on the west side of town. What’s out that way? Where could she stash him—and take me—that’s close to there?”
“She’s stalking your family?” Ben asks, shaking his head in disbelief. “What the hell is Finn involved in?” He sucks in a breath. “Did she plant that purse? On the roof?”
“Wait—you saw her there?”
“I thought I did. She was wrapped up in a scarf. I was just about to ask you if that was her when you went over the edge. I didn’t think anything of it.”
I show him my phone again. “Eversor sent me video of Finn as proof he was still alive.” Then. The thought creeps into my head and I tamp it down, hard. I push the play button, and Ben watches with me.
“It’s hard to see anything,” Ben says, tilting the screen left and right. “He’s all lit up and it’s dark behind him.”
I study Finn’s face again, wishing I could talk back to those expressive eyes. Tell him it’s going to be okay. Then I notice what he just did. I punch pause, and then pull the video back a second. Yes, there it was. His eyes were locked on the camera, looking right at me, and then all of a sudden they darted down.
She’s only filmed him from the chest up, and I can’t really see what he’s trying to get me to look at, if anything. His hand comes up to his chest, making a pleading gesture as his eyes try to tell me … what?
I let it play to the end again and then I watch it play once more. This time, I keep my eye on that hand. Maybe he’s pointing at something. Maybe he’s—
“He’s giving me a word!” I shout. “He’s signing! She doesn’t know that he can sign!” And now, thanks to my forced assumption of an alternate life, so can I.
I play the video again, and it’s crystal clear. His hand, open, brought up and placed palm-down against his chest. I took it as a sign of entreaty, which she must have done as well. But it’s not.
It’s the sign for a word. Mine.