Текст книги "Betwixt"

Автор книги: Melissa Pearl

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The morning does not come in a hurry; neither does my return to Dale. I lay in the darkness, my mind flashing from terror to desperation. It's hard to hold a coherent thought for long. My brain keeps drifting down a murky path of nothingness before abruptly clearing, only to let the terror back in.

The bitter cold engulfs me and all I can do is will the sunshine to lighten the sky. When I think I can't take it anymore I start wishing for Dale again. I don't know how long my mind screams his name, but I eventually open my eyes and find him lying next to me.

I jolt upright. Jester is lying at Dale's feet. His nose pops into the air and he let's out a low bark then his tongue flops out of his mouth as if he's smiling. A few sniffs later and he's burrowing his way up the bed, trying to squish his head beneath my hand.

Too bizarre.

I gently stroke his fur, almost fooling myself into thinking I can feel it. It's probably just my mind telling me what I should be feeling. I sniff my fingers, but only smell pine and dirt.

Too, too weird.

Jester does that shaky-shiver thing dogs do when they're stretching, then lays his head, literally, in my lap.

I glance over at Dale. He is stirring with a soft groan. Opening his eyes, he looks at his clock. He slowly sits up and rubs his face then musses his curls. A big yawn stretches his mouth wide before he goes still and looks around the room. "Nicole?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

He smiles and turns in the direction of my voice.

"Good morning." He almost looks awkward that I'm sitting on the bed next to him, but not in a bad way, like a happy, blushy type awkward.

My eyebrows bunch together.

"Hey."

He throws back the covers and gets out of bed. Grabbing a band off his nightstand, he pulls his hair back into a ponytail. It looks really good that way. I mean, sure you can see his scar pretty well, but with that ponytail... he kind of looks hot.

I bite my tongue and frown. This accident is so screwing with my brain. I must have hit my head pretty damn hard.

In spite of my scolding, I still can't help watching him move around the room.

"Are you okay?" His head pops through a fresh t-shirt. "You seem really quiet."

"Yeah, I just... it took it me a long time to get here. I guess I'm just tired."

"Weren't you at home?"

Dale pulls his jeans out of the closet and slips them over his Ironman boxer shorts.

"I was, but then I went back to my body. I was there most of the night and..."

My shoulders go taut as I remember my nighttime visitor.

"And what?"

Tears rush up from nowhere, making my voice wobble.

"I heard footsteps."

Dale whips around to face me, hope lighting his eyes.

"Did you call out to them?"

"I couldn't."

"Why not?"

I do three short sniffs and let the tears come.

"Because my Dad went and saw the sheriff and he was talking about someone trying to hurt me intentionally and it freaked me out. What if that person who was there last night just came to finish the job? What if they really want me dead?"

"Okay, shhhh, it's okay." Dale sits down next to me on the bed. I sense if he could see me, that he'd be wrapping me in a hug right now. I ignore how badly I want that to happen. "Nicole, you're talking a little crazy. I'm sure the car that hit you was accidental. Didn't you say they seemed drunk?"

I mumble a quiet yes.

"Look at me."

"I am."

"In the eyes."

I do as I'm told. His deep brown gaze is intoxicating. "Promise me that if you hear footsteps again, you’ll scream your lungs out."

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Alright." Dale looks away from me, breaking contact and shattering my little magical moment.

I clear my throat and stand up.

"I think the person got a call."

"Yeah?"

"It was a really unusual ringtone, almost like someone whistling. I don't know, maybe we can keep an ear out for it or something."

"Good idea." Dale throws his things into his bag and grabs the map book. "Come on, let's go do some more scouting before school."

We spend an hour or so driving further along the road we tried yesterday. Dale peppers me with questions about ringtones and I finally give in and hum it to him. I think it's pointless. We'll probably never hear it again anyway.

As we drive to school, I once again complain that we've just wasted our time and Dale once again reminds me that we have crossed off another section of road.

I roll my eyes at his optimistic attitude.

"Maybe we'll have some luck at school. I might go chat to Amber and Penny, see if they can shed some more light on where you might have gone."

"They're not going to tell you anything."

"Would you stop being so negative please, you're messing with my morning vibe."

I groan.

"Uch! You're a happy morning person, aren't you?"

"And let me guess, you're a night owl."

"Maybe." I try to squash my smile.

He pulls into the parking lot and finds a spot near the concrete stairs. Getting out of the car, he leaves his door wide open while hitching his bag onto his shoulder.

"I'm out."

He slams the door and we start walking up the stairs together.

I turn to survey the crowd, looking for my friends, instead I spot Adam Hutton getting off the bus. He's looking frazzled, his blond locks scruffier than usual.

"Adam's catching the bus."

"Huh?" Dale looks over his shoulder. "His mom must have his car again today."

"But don't you think that's weird?"

"Why would it be weird?" Dale mumbles out the side of his mouth.

"Well, how long does a car take to get fixed?"

Dale frowns then veers left, opening a side door and leading me into an empty classroom. "What are you saying?"

"I don't know, I was just wondering..."

"Don't. If her car is waiting for a part, it takes time to come in."

"Yeah, I just have a feeling."

"Don't have a feeling, it's not him."

"How do you know?"

"He's my friend, Nicole. I know he wouldn't drive drunk. I know if he did hit you he would 'fess up straight away. He's a good guy."

Dale's face has taken on a granite quality. His eyes swirl dark brown and I swear his scar is pulsing. I look down at my nails and remind myself that he's helping me and that Adam is possibly his only friend at this school.

I clear my throat and shrug.

"You're right. I guess I'm just feeling on edge after last night."

He steps towards me.

"I'm gonna find you. I won't give up, okay?"

I smile at his sweet expression.

"Just stop coming up with wild hunches about my friends."

"Okay, fine."

I nod and follow him out of the room.

On the way to his locker, we spot Amber and Penny heading towards the dance studios. Dale veers right and follows them. He waits until they are dumping their bags by the floor before approaching them.

Amber scrunches up her nose.

"What do you want?"

"Hey girls."

He smiles at Penny and her politeness forces her to fire one back at him.

"I was just wondering if you'd heard from Nicole."

Penny steps forward with a sympathetic look.

"I'm really sorry, buddy, but she's kind of with Trent. I don't think she's into you."

Dale frowns.

"I'm not into her."

Ouch! Why does that sting?

"I'm just asking where she is."

"We don't know." Amber shrugs.

"But you’re her best friends. Hasn't she called you?"

"No, Mr. Busybody, she hasn't."

"Why aren't you guys more worried?"

"Look, Nicole is an independent girl. She flits off whenever she wants to and she never thinks about anybody but herself. I don't know where she is right now and frankly, I don't really care."

I feel like Amber's just punched me in the gut. I gaze at her with an open mouth, unable to put words to the anger and hurt bubbling in my system.

"Okay, so kind of harsh." Dale frowns.

"What do you know, Scarface? Like you have any friends. Consider yourself lucky you avoid the drama."

Dale's skin pales as he listens to Amber.

Penny shoots him an awkward glance.

"We have to get ready, so bye now."

His jaw clenches tight.

"I know she left with Trent. Where would he take her?"

"He said he took her home."

"I think he's lying."

"Think what you like." Amber crosses her arms and stands in front of him. "But do it somewhere else."

Sensing the inevitable, Dale shoots them a hard look and walks away without another word.

I follow him in a simmering silence until I can't hold it in anymore. "I can't believe they just treated you that way?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. They were really rude."

Dale screeches to a halt in the now empty corridor.

"You've treated me like that before too."

"I know and I hate that I did. You don't know how many times I wish I could've taken it back."

Dale shakes his head and lets out a scoff. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm used to this. Don't waste your anger on Amber. I'm fine."

"I so don't get you."

Throwing his hands in the air, Dale stops and turns to face me.

"Look, all people see is the scar and they label me straight away. I don't care. I know who I am and if two prissy rich chicks don't like it, I don't give a shit."

"You're lying. How can you not hate that scar? It's ruined your life."

A slow smile pulls Dale's face out of shape as he points to his face. "This right here, I wouldn't change it for anything."

He turns away and heads to class, leaving me standing in utter confusion.

Who talks like that?

I'm about to follow him and ask when I see Adam scuttling around the corner.

Why isn't he in class? Mr. Goody-good skipping out? That's not possible.

I glance at Dale's retreating form then move to follow Adam. He walks the corridor with his head down. His hands are shoved in his pockets. Where's the usual confident strut he does? Does he seriously rely on his car that much?

His car.

I frown.

Why can't I shake this feeling?

We near the office and I nearly bang into him when we round the corner and he jerks to a stop.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

"Hey, son." The Sheriff slides his shades into his shirt pocket and approaches with slow steps. "I promised Mitchell Tepper that I'd come down to the school and see if there's been any news on Nicole."

"Oh." Adam nods. "Anything?"

"Nope." The sheriff smiles politely at Miss Walters as she glides past. "My guess is she's doing a runner. But if she hasn't shown up by tomorrow morning, I'm going to need to be a little more forceful with my search."

His eyes are cold and blue. They narrow slightly as they drill holes into Adam.

"Why aren't you in class, son?"

"I um, I have to pick up an assignment sheet from Mr. Simmons. Extra credit."

His Dad nods.

I don't know what it is, but his movements seem slow and intimidating.

"I think it's best you come straight home after school today... on the bus. No getting rides with that Finnigan kid."

"Dad, he's a good guy."

"He has a past. I don't want him distracting you from your studies."

"Dad– "

"Adam." His pointed look makes Adam swallow his next words.

"Yes, sir."

His father gives him a hard look.

"I know, Dad. Tonight... I mean, after school... straight away. I'll be there."

"Don't be late."

The sheriff pulls out his shades and slides them on. I have no idea what just happened, but I can sense Adam's fear. He runs a shaky hand through his hair and picks up the pace as he walks to Mr. Simmon's class.

I watch him stride away and the feeling I can't shake grows.

I need to talk to Dale.

Spinning on my heel, I head back to where I last saw him, realizing that I have no idea what his next class is or where I am supposed to find him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I impatiently wait by his locker, but he doesn't come by after his next class. I'm not sure what to do, so start randomly hunting the school for him. I walk from class to class, peering into windows and scanning faces. It's a futile task. By the end of second period, I still haven't found him. I head back to his locker and lean against it. Students buzz past me as they make their way to their next class.

I'm studying their faces when Dale walks through me.

"Ugh!"

Students nearby stop and look in Dale's direction. He gives them an awkward smile and they slump away with confused frowns and whispers of his weirdness. He waits until they're gone before sharply whispering, "I asked you not to do that to me."

"Hey, I was facing the other way, I didn't see you coming."

"Where have you been?"

He looks irritated, which for some reason makes me antsy.

"I just– "

"Don't keep ditching me. If you're not following me then say so."

"Well excuse me."

"I thought you were ignoring me again... not to mention the fact I looked like a complete idiot whispering to no one the entire way to class."

"Don't you look like that even when I am here?"

He fires a dark glare in my direction.

"You said you didn't care what people thought."

He shuts his locker a little too hard.

"Follow me, please."

I spin on my heel and walk outside with him.

"Shouldn't you be going to class?"

"Free period," he mumbles over his shoulder.

We head towards the isolated end of the field. I can tell he's making a beeline for the bleachers. It's a good idea. We'll be able to talk in private.

Once we're standing beneath the tiered seating he spins around to face me.

"Did you go back to your body?"

"No, I... I saw Adam and decided to follow him."

"Why?" Dale's eyes narrow.

"I don't know." I throw my hands in the air. "I just wanted to see why he wasn't in class."

"And?"

I sigh. "He was just picking up extra credit work from Mr. Simmons."

"I told you he was a good guy. Stop being so suspicious of everybody."

"I'm sorry, but something doesn't feel right."

"Stop thinking the worst of my friends."

"I'm not! This has nothing to do with your friendship. I just think his car story isn't solid."

"It's like a brick. You're just reaching for something that isn't there."

I step back with a huff and try to kick the dirt. This was getting us nowhere. I flick back my bangs and peer through the bleachers at the field.

"His Dad creeps me out a little."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. He's pretty strict. I don't think he likes me much."

"I can tell. He told Adam not to get a lift with you today. Said he's worried you'll distract him from his studies."

"Oh yeah?" Dale shakes his head. "What else did he say?"

"That you have a past."

Dale looks down and skims his shoe over the dirt.

"What does he mean?"

"Look it's nothing, okay. Just don't take off without telling me again and stop thinking my friends are bad."

"I'm..."

He starts walking away before I can get my words out. What is his problem?

I stomp after him and am about to yell at him to stop when someone else does it for me.

I grimace as Trent approaches with long, angry strides.

"What the hell have you been saying about me?"

Dale steps away from the juggernaut and puts his hands in his pockets.

"Why are you still looking for Nicole?"

"Because he's not a moron like you," I fire at my EX-boyfriend.

Trent steps forward, leaning down to get in Dale's face.

"You think I did something to her? You think I hurt her or something?"

He shoves Dale, causing him to stumble back.

"Tell him to get lost, Dale."

"I didn't touch her, man." Trent's aggression is pulsing out of him. "She got out of my car. I asked her to get back in, but she wouldn't. None of this is my fault."

"Bullshit, you little turd. If you'd just taken two seconds to listen and control yourself none of this would have happened," I yell.

"I didn't do anything wrong."

Dale gives him a stone cold glare that says otherwise.

Before I know what's happening, Trent bunches his fingers into a fist and hits Dale square in the face. Dale tumbles backwards.

"You asshole!" I push Trent away from Dale, but my hands go straight through him. He doesn't even flinch. Instead he bends over Dale's fallen form and points a finger at him.

"Leave it alone, Scarface. She's gone and no one gives a shit."

I drop to my knees beside Dale as Trent stalks away.

"Are you okay?" I try to move his hands so I can see his face.

"Don't touch me." He rolls away from me and takes his time sitting up.

Blood is streaming from his nose and running into his mouth.

"Why didn't you say anything? How could you let him do that to you?"

"It's not like I had much choice." Dale stands up and flicks the blood from his nose with his finger.

Gross.

"Besides you mouthing off every two seconds was hardly helpful."

"Well, I'm sorry, but you weren't exactly doing much to stand up for yourself."

"Maybe if I'd had a second to think, I could have!"

Rummaging in his bag, he pulls out his PE shirt and uses it wipe up the blood.

"It's not my fault you're a slow thinker."

Dale chucks the stained shirt back in his bag and stands up straight. His nose is throbbing red and he still has a smear of blood under his chin.

I point to it. "You've still got-"

"I don't have to be doing this, you know. If I walk away, you've got no one."

I step back from his abrupt statement. Why is he saying this to me? Why is he becoming like everybody else?

Tears sting my eyes as my voice rises.

"I'm a very popular person."

"Who no one gives a shit about! You just heard him say it."

Dale points to where Trent was standing.

"Do you honestly think if anyone else could hear you, they would take time to listen? I'm the only person at this school willing to do anything."

"That is SO not true!"

"Isn't it?"

I don't know what to say.

"You know why people don't like you? Because you act like a bitch. You say awful things and you treat people like crap. That's why no one's mourning you."

"Why are you saying this to me?" I swallow. "I said sorry about the Scarface thing."

"It's not about Scarface. It's about your attitude towards everything. It's about you suspecting one of the only friends I have at this school." He points to his nose. "It's about being punched in the face by your asshole boyfriend who thinks he can treat you like a sex slave and get away with it."

Dale's breathing like a bull ready to charge.

I cross my arms and can't help joining him. My breaths begin to spurt through my nostrils as I shake my head.

"Don't you dare stand there judging me. What the hell do you know? Have you ever watched someone die? Have you ever listened to their screams of terror? That noise is impossible to get out of your brain! So don't stand there telling me that all my choices have been wrong. All I've been doing is trying to survive this hell!"

"You don't think I understand tragedy?" He pulls back his hair, showing me the scar in all its glory. "I spent five hours trapped in a car listening to my friends die around me and just praying that I'd make it out alive."

My anger flees the scene in record time. My arms drop to my side as I swallow down the lump in my throat.

"I know how hard that sound is to ignore, but at least I haven't chosen to throw away my life on a bunch of bad decisions. I'm trying to help you, Nicky. But your screwed up life keeps getting in the way."

He lets out a long sigh.

"Fine." I lift my chin. "You're better than me. Congratulations."

"I didn't mean-"

"Don't talk to me again." I shake my head. "I don't want you to waste your time looking for me, I don't deserve it anyway."

"Nicole, don't be like that."

I turn and start walking away. I don't know what's just happened, but the thought of spending another second near Dale Finnigan is too painful.

"I still want to help you!" he calls after me.

I keep moving.

"Nicole."

The people beside me turn to look at Dale.

"Who the hell is he talking to?" one guy mutters.

"Beats me, the guy's weird."

I cover my ears and keep walking. Blending with human traffic, I squeeze through doors as they open and eventually make it out of the school. Wrapping my arms around myself, I turn down Maple Lane and start walking home.

I have nowhere else to go.

Dale's words run through my head.

All I can think is... he's right.

My sins are finally catching up with me.

I deserve this.

No one will ever find my body, because I deserve to die.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The house is empty when I arrive. I have no choice but to jump... fall through the window and walk to my room. Stopping in the living room, I stand and gaze at the tall pine tree in the back yard. I can see Jody's tiny body falling as she screams my name.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to switch off the sound, but it doesn't work.

"NICKY!" rings in my brain, loud, clear and deafening.

I cover my ears and run up to my room. Flinging myself onto the bed, I bury my head in my arms and let the sobs take me. They climb up my body, making it wrench and jerk. I haven't cried this hard... ever.

My loud moans and hiccupy breaths fill the room until there's nothing left.

The silence that follows is depressing, but I can't move away from it. I lay there in numb silence for the rest of the day. I can't sleep, I can't disappear, all I can do is lie there and hear all my friends' nasty words swirl in my head. The only thing to break the rhythm is Jody's scream and the sick thud that followed it.

At four o'clock the front door clicks open. I recognize my mother's clipped steps. I want to go down and see her, but I can't make my body move. An hour later I hear Dad walking in.

"Get up," I whisper. I repeat the words until my brain starts functioning. Slowly I rise from the bed and make my way downstairs.

Mom is pottering in the kitchen, chopping up lettuce, slicing up tomatoes. Dad's at the refrigerator pulling out a beer.

They walk around each other in silence, not saying a word.

Mom sniffs at a few tears as she chops the onions. I don't know what's really causing them, but Dad doesn't even flinch.

What happened to our family?

A memory of the four of us sitting around the dining room table – the one we never use now – playing a board game flits through my brain.

Jody was giggling her head off at Dad's funny faces. Mom whacked him on the shoulder to make him stop then clutched her stomach as another round of giggles took her. I watched them with a huge grin, trying not to laugh at how silly Dad was being. Once he had our two giggle buddies in hysterics he stopped and shot me a knowing wink. Our entertainment was set for the night. We watched with amusement as they both tried to pull themselves together, but after one look at each other, they'd both snort and start all over again. Dad gazed at Mom with adoring eyes.

I look at Dad's eyes now and they're blank, lifeless... numb, just like mine have been since that awful day.

"I would do anything to change the past, you guys."

They don't hear me... and I guess it doesn't really matter. I can't change the past. I can't change what I did or what happened.

I just have to live with it.

I mean, they will just have to live with it; I can go ahead and die.

Tired of taking in the desolation, I turn and head back to my room. I know I've been wandering aimlessly for the last few years, but I feel more lost than ever as I take a seat in my cold, quiet room. I sit in the armchair by the window and gaze into the darkness.

Time ticks by in slow, painful minutes. My body starts to ache with a coldness I haven't felt before. I wrap my arms around myself and curl into a ball. My head is throbbing again and I wonder if I'm about to return when I hear the doorbell ring.

Jerking from my dark meanderings, I sit up and listen.

I strain to recognize the voices and it's not until they're all stepping into my room that I see the sheriff appear from behind my mother. Her eyes are round with worry as she turns to him.

"So, here it is."

The sheriff nods, placing his hands on his hips and surveying my orderly surroundings.

"She certainly has a lot of books."

"Yes." Mom smiles. "She used to love reading. I'd always find her up here with her nose buried in a book."

"Funny, she never struck me as the reading kind."

The guy's barely said two words to me, how would he know?

My father clears his throat.

"She hasn't been into books for a couple of years now. High school brought out a different side in her. She's not at home as much anymore."

The sheriff shoots my father a pitiful look.

"Don't look at him that way." I stand up and walk to his side. "So you're the perfect father? You've never made mistakes before?!"

I don't know why I'm standing up for Dad, but I despise that look of judgement on Sheriff Hutton's face. He's never lost a child, how would he know what to do?

I jump back before the Sheriff puts his foot through my boots. He goes to my desk and rifles through some pages, reading bits and pieces.

"It's just my homework."

His eyebrows raise in surprise as he notices the A– on the top of my latest assignment. I try to snatch it from his hand, but the paper doesn't move. I stare at the paper, concentrating really hard and am reaching for it again when he drops it back to my desk.

"So, where do you think they'll start the search?" Dad looks hopeful as he gazes at the sheriff.

"That's not really why I'm here, Mitchell." Sheriff Hutton turns to face them with a sad expression. "I've been on the phone for a large portion of the day, I've chatted to her friends, I've asked around. The thing is..." He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. "We're not sure if we have the resources and funds for a search with absolutely no starting point... and the chances that Nicole has run away are so high... we've decided not to go ahead."

"What?"

My father steps forward, anger and grief playing tango with his expression.

My mother's wide eyes fill with tears and she bites her lower lip.

"I'm sorry, folks."

"What if she didn't run away?"

"Do you honestly think she hasn't?"

My parents both look down and shake their heads.

I can't believe he's doing this. I can't believe he's giving up on me before even trying. The urge to stand up and scream in his face is warring with the urge to curl into a ball and fall asleep forever.

"We'll do what we can, Trudy. I've spoken to the L.A.P.D. already. I've just come to collect a recent picture of her and then I can scan it for them. They'll keep an eye out for her."

My mother wipes at her tears and glances around the room.

"Um... we don't have much that's recent." Guilt is dripping from her words; I can hear it wafting through the air. Regret sucks. "Maybe she has something on her computer or... in her drawers. Just give me a minute."

Dad steps over to my computer and brings the screen to life. He starts looking through my folders to no avail. I'm not too worried, as long as he doesn't open my Facebook page, I should be fine.

I glance over at my mother and see her pick up my diary then rifle through the drawer beneath.

"Mom, don't." I shoot over to her, but not in time.

Her face drops with disbelief and disgust. I forgot I left those prints in there. I mean who even prints photos now anyway?

I think about the day I found the inside of my locker decorated with these party shots. I forced myself to laugh until I managed hysterical giggles, but I remember being quietly humiliated. As soon as everyone walked away I ripped them out of my locker and buried them in my bag.

I should have just thrown them away.

Stepping up beside Mom, I look over her shoulder and wince. The photos are hardly flattering. They were taken this summer when we went to Drue's cabin for the weekend. Alcohol had flowed and drunken antics had followed. Mom is staring at one of me half-naked, making out with Trent by the water's edge. I want to snatch it from her fingers.

"Stop looking at those... please."

She flips over to another one where me, Amber and Penny are flipping the bird at the camera thinking we are oh so cool and funny.

My mother closes her eyes and drops the photos back in the drawer.

"Find anything?" The sheriff turns.

Mom slides the drawer closed and shakes her head. "No, nothing."

"I think I've got something."

Dad enlarges the picture on screen. He's found a shot of me staring at the camera. My eyes look void of life and my mouth is set in a tight line. I look annoyed, but at least I'm dressed and not doing any rude gestures.

"That's the best you've got?"

My Dad looks ashamed as he nods at the sheriff's question.

"Okay, well e-mail that to me then and I'll get onto it first thing in the morning." Sheriff Hutton hands Dad his business card.

My father nods then goes about opening up his webmail and attaching the photo.

"What was she wearing the last time you saw her?"

Sheriff Hutton pulls out his notebook, his pen is poised to scribble down a description.

Dad glances up from the screen and catches Mom's eye. She shakes her head.

"I didn't see her leave on Tuesday and Mitchell wasn't home."

Dad looks annoyed and turns back to the screen.

"She just called out a goodbye like she always does. I... she’s sixteen! It's not like I need to wave her off every time she leaves the house. I didn't think it was the last time I'd be seeing her." Mom's voice crumples, her last word coming out as a squeak.

The sheriff flicks her a sad smile as he slides his pen and notepad back into his jacket. "I'm sorry you have to face this, Trudy. I really am."

She crosses her arms and nods.

"Please keep us updated."

"I will, but I have to warn you... don't get your hopes up."

Why would he say something like that to them? Can't he see they're already on edge?

"I think you should leave now," my voice is hard.

Sheriff Hutton pats my Dad's shoulder and gives it a squeeze before saying goodbye and leaving.

The whoosh of an email sending is the only sound in the room. I gaze at my parents' shell-shocked expressions.

I don't know what to say. I don't know how to make it better.

"I'll go finish dinner." Mom's hands drop to her side and she walks out of the room.

Dad robotically closes down my computer, not just putting it to sleep, but actually shutting it down.

There is finality to the action and it leaves a tender bruise right in the middle of my chest.

I'm obviously not the only one giving up.