Follow Me

by Sara Shepard

  “Look,” Aerin blurted. “Chelsea’s been missing for three days now. We think Corey might know something. Be a good person here.”

  Kate’s gaze was steady and challenging, but not exactly surprised. “You mean he’s a suspect?” she demanded.

  “Maybe,” Aerin said.

  Kate put her hands on her hips. “Can I see some sort of proof?”

  There was a brief stare-off, but then Aerin pulled out her phone and called up the picture on the feed. “See?” She pointed at Corey next to Chelsea. “This is right around the time Chelsea was last seen. They’re together.”

  Kate glanced at it, but she seemed unimpressed. “I’m sorry. I can’t give out his address. If you aren’t going to order anything, you can’t be here.”

  Seneca spun around and tramped out of the café. Everyone followed. Once they were on the sidewalk, she glared at Kate through the glass. “I think she’s hiding something.”

  Maddox cocked his head. “Me too.”

  Seneca nodded. “She looked freaked when we mentioned Corey’s name. What does she know?”

  “If Corey is Brett, then maybe he charmed her—or manipulated her.” Madison lowered her voice as a jogging couple passed. “But maybe she senses there’s something off about him. Maybe she even has evidence…but she’s too afraid to talk.”

  Maddox cleared his throat. “Maybe there’s another way we can get information. MizMaizie should be able to help.”

  Seneca pinched the bridge of her nose. MizMaizie posted on CNC and, being a former Seattle cop, still had access to basic records like driver’s license information. She’d helped with Helena’s investigation, trying to figure out where Heath Ingram had disappeared to the winter after Helena vanished. Seneca scrolled through her phone for the number, sent MizMaizie a text, and was surprised when MizMaizie wrote back quickly. No Delaware driver’s license for Corey Robinson.

  Seneca asked for her to check other states, but after another beat, the only Corey Robinsons that came up were much older, or of a different ethnicity, and one was female. Maddox frowned. “That’s weird.”

  “Not really,” Seneca said. “He could be using an alias.”

  “How could we figure out where he’s staying?” Aerin asked.

  “We could call Gabriel,” Seneca suggested. “Maybe the realty company he works for rented his family his vacation house.” But then she looked at the time. It was 6:30. She doubted Gabriel was up yet.

  Aerin raised empty palms to the group. “Now what?”

  “I have an idea.” Madison pointed at a truck that had just rolled up to the curb. Peace, Love, and Donuts!, it read, featuring a smiling donut as its logo. A sleepy-looking worker wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt slid out of the driver’s seat, ambled around to the back, and opened the doors to reveal boxes of freshly made pastries.

  “Excuse me?” Madison strolled over. Her eyes twinkled, and she’d put on her most winning smile. Her head bent close to the guy, and after a moment, Seneca saw him nod, hand her his cap, and lift a box of food into her arms. He pointed to a back alley that ran behind the shops, and Madison started off.

  Seneca caught her arm. “What are you doing?”

  Madison grinned. “I told this guy I’d give him all my indica weed if he’d let me deliver the donuts to my friend inside. I’ll set the donuts on the counter and grab that application.”

  “Madison, I don’t…” Seneca started, but Madison was already skipping off.

  Seneca shifted nervously on the sidewalk, half expecting Madison to dart out of the café with Kate chasing after her. She glanced around, once more feeling the sensation that someone was watching them. A garbage truck lumbered down the road. A Jeep carrying surfboards passed. A few joggers galloped by, but no one even glanced in their direction.

  Aerin tapped her foot impatiently. Maddox cleared his throat. “I wish we had a getaway car. If that Kate girl comes flying after my sister, Madison won’t be able to outrun her. Did you see the shoes she’s wearing?”

  Seneca smirked. “You’ll have to carry her on your back.”

  He scoffed. “Yeah right.”

  She cocked her head. “But I thought runners were, like, the strongest athletes ever.” Maddox’s face reddened, and she nudged him. “Kidding.”

  Madison strolled calmly from around the corner. She tossed the delivery guy his hat, popped an unidentifiable bundle in his pocket, and returned to the group, her cheeks pink with excitement.

  “What happened?” Seneca whispered, hurrying over to her.

  Madison held up her phone. She’d taken a photo of an open file cabinet with an application sticking out of a manila folder. Corey Robinson, it read on the top. And an address: 49 Ninety-First Street. Seneca looked at the street sign: They were on Ninety-Sixth. “This isn’t far.”

  Maddox pivoted on the sidewalk. “Let’s go.”

  “Are you crazy?” Seneca pulled on her sleeve. “We can’t just show up at his house. It’s six thirty in the morning, for one thing. And for another, if this is Brett, what are we going to do? Ring his doorbell, and…?” She trailed off, suddenly unable to speak. The idea of coming face-to-face with Brett made her shrink down in terror. They needed to think this through more. They needed a better plan.

  Maddox turned from the curb. “If we don’t want to go there in person, we could check it out with my drone. See if he’s there. Make sure it is Brett.”

  Madison gawked at him. “You didn’t bring it.”

  “He did.” Aerin smirked. “It’s in our room.”

  “Drones are nerdy and weird!” Madison hissed. “Only stalkers use them! We’re trying to keep a low profile, not draw attention to ourselves!”

  “Actually, a drone isn’t a bad idea,” Seneca said. “Have you seen how many people are flying them on the beach? Brett won’t know which one is ours.” She smirked at him. “Let me guess. You’re amazing at flying it.”

  Maddox grinned. “I didn’t play hours and hours of Top Gun on Xbox for nothing.”

  They headed back to the B&B, though after some discussion, they decided to wait a few hours to fly it, when there would be more drones on the beach and Maddox’s would blend in. Finally, around eleven, Maddox pulled the box into the B&B’s driveway. He assembled the large, flat flying device, turned it on, pressed a few buttons on the remote, and the drone lifted into the air. He managed to fly the thing over the trees and houses without bumping it into a single branch. His features relaxed into something very intelligent, and admittedly very handsome, and Seneca felt an unexpected tingle. Maddox glanced up at her and raised an eyebrow. She gave him a thumbs-up.

  Everyone stared at the iPad synced to the drone’s progress. Madison used a map on her phone to tell Maddox where to turn. Finally, the drone hovered over the address Corey had used on his application. There were no cars in the driveway, but there was a bike propped against the garage and a light on inside. Maddox flew the drone a little lower. “Watch it,” Madison hissed. “Don’t crash it into a window.”

  They studied the screen on the iPad. The drone hovered across the street to get a view inside the front windows, but there weren’t any signs anyone was there—the TV wasn’t on, and there were no shadows moving behind the glass. The house was on a public street, too—Seneca doubted Brett was actually holding Chelsea hostage inside.

  She leaned back on her heels, feeling frustrated. When her phone started to buzz in her back pocket, she almost ignored it. But then she pulled it out and gawked at the screen. “Look,” she whispered to the others. She’d received a new message on the CNC boards from BMoney60.

  Hope to see you at the Bastille Day party. I’ve got a killer surprise for you….

  AERIN STARED AT the message on Seneca’s screen. Her throat felt dry. Her fingers tingled. She could practically hear Brett’s voice. Taunting them.

  “Okay.” Seneca’s voice was steady, and her shoulders were squared. “So Brett’s either going to be at the party…or close by, watching. Which means we’r
e definitely going, too.”

  “We’re going to face him?” Aerin cried.

  Seneca looked at her like she was crazy. “We can’t just stay home! But I’m thinking we’ll just be on the lookout. We need to figure out who he is. Maybe he’s Corey…or maybe he’s someone else. We’ll have to think outside the box.”

  “What if we do spot him at the party?” Madison asked. “What’s the plan?”

  Kingston, the Doberman, barked loudly from inside the B&B, making Aerin jump. “I think we play it cool,” Maddox whispered. “We don’t know where Chelsea is, and we don’t have any hard evidence we can give the police that Brett has her. That’s what we need tonight. If Brett thinks we haven’t found him, he might get cocky and give away something about where he’s hidden Chelsea…or else bail on the party and lead us straight to her. So we act oblivious. Pretend we don’t see him.”

  “Agreed,” Seneca said. “We just track him. Don’t go up to him. Don’t look at him. Pretend nothing’s out of the ordinary.”

  Aerin swallowed hard. The idea of keeping a cool head in the face of her sister’s murderer sounded impossible, but if there was any time to rise to the challenge, it had to be today. “What do you think he means by a surprise?” she asked, pointing to that part in Brett’s note.

  Seneca shifted from foot to foot, her expression darkening. “I don’t know. But we need to keep in each other’s sight at all times. And we’ll put the cops on speed dial, just in case.” She pulled Madison over and took Aerin’s hand. “Now I need to check out your suitcases.”

  “Why?” Aerin asked.

  Seneca gave her a half smile. “I didn’t exactly bring clothes for a party. But something tells me you guys did.”

  SIX HOURS LATER, after trying on multiple dress-and-shoe combinations and having multiple freak-outs, Aerin and the others stood across the street from the condos in front of a mini-golf course called Zoo Adventure. Even from a half block away, they could hear music floating out from the pool area and a few loud hoots of laughter. Aerin took a deep breath, feeling like she might puke. As they stepped onto the sidewalk, she slipped her hand into Seneca’s. Seneca squeezed back, but it didn’t help much.

  The sun had set over the buildings, turning the sky a mix of pink and yellow. Heat still radiated off the sidewalks, but the breeze felt cool and refreshing. At the condo entrance, the music had grown louder, and so had the crowd. A tall, thick-necked man standing at the gate straightened as they approached.

  “Name?” he asked, eyeing them coolly.

  “Aerin Kelly,” Aerin said in almost a whisper. She looked around, wondering if Brett was close, listening.

  The man checked a list on his phone, then nodded and let her through. Seneca, Maddox, and Madison gave their names as well. Aerin watched as Seneca peeked at the bouncer’s phone screen, clearly searching for Corey’s name. But the bouncer gave her a suspicious look and dropped the phone into his pocket.

  They walked through the gate and into the huge pool area, where the party was taking place. It held a wide expanse of tables, several long grassy nooks, a bar area, a DJ booth and dance floor, and, of course, the enormous, glittering, open-to-the-sky-and-beach-beyond pool, complete with waterslide, diving boards, a swim-up bar, and a battalion of rafts. A number of kids were in the pool already, and the space smelled like a mix of chlorine and tiki torches. As Aerin scanned the crowded deck, she suddenly had a horrible thought and grabbed Seneca’s hand. “What if Brett brought a gun?” she whispered. “What if that’s his surprise?”

  Seneca frowned. “Doubt it.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Brett strikes me as someone who thinks he’s better than weapons. Like he can outmuscle everyone with his brain.”

  They pushed into the party some more. The pool area was decorated with French flags, statues of militiamen on horses, and banners that read, Happy Bastille Day! The food spread seemed to consist mostly of French bread, wheels of Brie, baskets of fries, a huge cauldron of mussels and clams, and a large chocolate cake iced with Let them eat cake! There were at least ten people dressed up as characters from Les Misérables. In the corner, past the waterslide, was a large bounce house; someone had written in black ink on one of the turrets Storm the Bastille! Everyone jumping inside waved cardboard swords and shields.

  “Let’s fan out,” Seneca murmured in Aerin’s ear.

  Aerin’s heart thumped double time. She didn’t want to be separated from the group even for a second. Seneca added, as if reading her mind, “Just stay where I can see you. It’ll be okay.”

  Then Seneca crossed the patio. Madison took a spot near the pool. Maddox headed toward the dance floor. Fearfully, Aerin stepped near a bunch of kids lounging on oversized outdoor beanbags, figuring there was safety in numbers. She glanced around hesitantly, fearful of what she might see. So many people were wearing hats, eye masks, sometimes complete face masks. Was Brett lurking under one of them? She felt eyes on her. She jolted up, but all she saw was a seagull sitting atop the fence.

  She moved jerkily, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds, until she was near the bounce house. A song by Demi Lovato played at deafening volume, making it difficult to think straight. The bounce house shook wildly, stuffed with people. Behind it, a couple made out against the wall, their arms and legs entangled. Aerin squinted hard—the guy’s eyes were shaped like Brett’s, and a big beard covered his face like a disguise. He caught her staring, and she noticed a big nose, wide-set eyes. Her Brett radar didn’t flash.

  Eyes, faces, bodies. Hats, masks, costumes. She scanned each party guest thoroughly, but the twinkling fairy lights combined with the dark, moonless sky cast confusing, obfuscating shadows. A few of the Les Mis characters were now singing a song from the show, which gave Aerin a pang—Helena always used to love Les Mis, often choosing songs from its sound track to sing in their garage karaoke booth. She’d enjoy this party, actually. She’d probably get up there and sing, too.

  Across the patio, Seneca sipped a drink, coolly surveying the pool area. Madison was stationed by the snacks, talking to a girl in a corset. The hair on the back of Aerin’s neck prickled again, and all at once, she felt a watchful presence. She turned slowly, nearly getting mowed down as a knot of laughing, tipsy kids hurried past. A cackle rose through the crowd, high and sharp. A tall head bobbed above the others—someone in a pirate hat. Aerin looked right and left, her thoughts splintering. Then someone pulled her backward.

  “Hey!” she cried, staggering in her high wedges. She scanned the area for the others—did they see this? Were they watching? But she couldn’t see Seneca or Maddox anymore, and Madison’s attention was elsewhere. Whoever had grabbed her pushed her into a dark corner and then spun her around to face him. Aerin breathed in, stiff with fear, gaping into a stiff mask of a man with a pageboy haircut and a silky goatee. Her heart lurched. She was about to scream when the masked man’s hand clapped over her mouth.

  “Shhh.” His voice was muffled. “Don’t make a scene. I just want to talk to you, Aerin.”

  The scream stilled in Aerin’s throat. It wasn’t Brett’s voice…but she knew it all the same. And when he lifted the mask up just so, revealing full lips and a square jaw and those familiar soft green eyes, she was certain.

  Thomas.

  THE PARTY THRUMMED and shimmered around them. Kids splashed down the waterslide. Someone called, “Limbo!” Aerin was astonished the world could continue so happily apace despite what was happening to her.

  Hastily, Thomas loosened his grip, but he still held on to her wrist as though he feared she might bolt. He faced the party again. For a moment, they stood silently side by side, like strangers on a curb waiting for the light to change. “I think I know why you’ve been avoiding me,” he finally murmured. “Brett told you not to tell anyone, right?”

  Aerin swallowed hard. Her blood felt like ice in her veins.

  “But if you think I’m going to just sit back and watch this happen without helping, yo
u’re crazy.”

  “Thomas, you need to go,” Aerin said frantically. “This isn’t safe—for any of us.”

  “He’s here, isn’t he? That’s why you’re here.”

  Aerin’s jaw twitched. “Have you been spying on me?”

  The mask bobbed, and for a moment, Thomas didn’t speak. “No. Okay, maybe. Okay, yes. I’ve been watching you all day, and all yesterday, too. And I overheard Seneca say something about Brett sending her a message earlier. Are you guys communicating with him?”

  “Shhh,” Aerin said, feeling uneasy. Come to think of it, she had felt paranoid someone was watching them that morning…but she’d chalked it up to nerves. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering who else could be listening now. Every shifting body, every lurking presence in a mask filled her with paralyzing dread and fear. On instinct, she moved a little closer to Thomas. As complicated as she felt about him being here, she needed protection. All of a sudden, she weakened. How bad would it be if she told Thomas everything? He’d already practically figured out the whole story on his own anyway, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  She sighed. “Fine. He’s here. But keep your voice down. He said that if we went to the police, Chelsea would die. You’re ex-police, so…”

  “Got it,” Thomas said, his voice full of vindication.

  As briefly as she could, Aerin filled Thomas in on some other details—Brett’s letter, the CNC posts, and their suspects thus far. “Brett said he’d be here tonight—with a surprise,” she added. “But I don’t see him yet.”

  Thomas peered around the party. To an onlooker, he just seemed like a guy in a mask standing next to a pretty blond girl in a sundress, trying to figure out how to talk to her. Aerin noticed Seneca reappear, look her way, and frown. She could tell Seneca was about to come over, but she waved in an I’m-okay gesture.

  The party had swelled in size in the past half hour. A horde of surfers chatted in the corner. A few girls who’d complimented Aerin’s purse earlier that day waved from the beer keg. She noticed Gabriel Wilton, the party host, wearing a large Napoleon-style hat that completely engulfed his head and a heavy-looking blue blazer with gold tassels on the epaulets. He stood next to a guy who wore a towering powdered Marie-Antoinette wig, no shirt, and a French flag wrapped around his waist like a sarong.