Deliver Her: A Novel

by Patricia Perry Donovan

  Carl climbed back into the truck, Mendham’s chatter barely registering on the black ride back to Swiftriver. He rolled down his window, scanning the darkness. In the few hours he had spent with Alex, he observed she was sharp and smart—and wily enough to survive this. Perhaps her taking the frog was the misguided girl’s final revenge. He turned his face toward the pewter sky. Alex, where are you?

  A cough of radio static disrupted his musings. Carl yanked his head back inside. “What are they saying?”

  “Nothing on the girl, sir, sorry to say. But they have a lead on who called in the accident. Trooper Lopez talking to them now. Back at Swiftriver.”

  MEG

  “Did you pick up the cigarettes?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll lie if Jacob asks me.” Melissa dropped the pack into Meg’s lap.

  “I don’t think that’s the lie he’ll be worried about. He’s going to kill me.” Meg stood and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Come with me while I have one.”

  “What about Jack?”

  “I’ll leave the slider open so we can hear him.” Outside, Meg lit up with shaking hands. “This is a nightmare, Meliss.” Meg wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the rain soak her scrubs. “I can’t get the image out of my head of Alex walking along some icy highway by herself. What if some creep picks her up and . . .” She couldn’t finish the thought.

  Melissa hugged her. “Stop. We have to focus on the positive—that she made it out of that car alive.”

  “I’m trying.” Meg wiped her streaming nose on her sleeve. “She’s just . . . that woman next to her. How Alex must have felt. Again.”

  “I know. I thought of that.” Melissa dropped into a patio chair, despite the rain that had puddled in the seat. “When did you say Jacob would be home?”

  “I don’t know. Eight, maybe?” Meg took a hard drag. “How am I going to tell him?” Jacob had called multiple times since Carl relayed his news. She hadn’t answered, afraid to talk to him or even listen to his voice-mail message.

  “Seriously, Meg, how did you plan to tell him before? You must have thought about that.”

  “I did. I figured by the time I told him, Alex would be safe and sound.”

  “You still deceived him.”

  Meg aimed a stream of smoke into the night. “Could we not do this now? You made it pretty clear that night at the diner how you felt.”

  “OK, fine.” Melissa poked her head back into the house to check for Jack. “Anyway, Jacob’s first concern will be for Alex. Maybe you should text Shana again. Tell her Alex is M-I-A. Scare the crap out of her.”

  Obediently, Meg sent another message:

  Alex is missing. Really need your help. Please answer me.

  Jack called from the living room. “Hey, where’d you guys go?”

  “Coming, honey.” Back inside, Melissa guided Jack upstairs, his head bobbing animatedly in the curve of her arm.

  Meg lit another cigarette and moved off the deck, triggering the backyard sensor. For a few seconds, light flooded the area, illuminating the wrought-iron table and chairs like props on a stage before clicking off again. Something was amiss: the table was on an angle, chairs shoved to one side. As though someone wanted to clear a path to the slider.

  She’d played with that door latch this morning. Had she bothered to look outside? Meg couldn’t remember. Even if she had, she’d have been too distracted to notice the disarray.

  Now everything was out of place.

  Something had glinted on the ground before the light went out. She moved to reactivate the sensor and knelt. It was a screw, one that could have fallen from the troublesome door latch. Especially if someone had tried to force it. She dropped it into her scrubs pocket, where the screw clinked against her phone. The deck went dark again.

  Dizzy from the second cigarette, Meg was stamping it out when two beeps signaled a text—not Shana as she’d hoped, but Jacob, a courtesy heads-up he was half an hour away.

  Securing the slider as best she could, she rubbed her neck and headed upstairs. Angel followed her, stationing herself in front of Alex’s door.

  “Miss your sister? I do, too.” Meg rubbed the dog’s head. “Now go say good-night to Jack.” The dog padded down the hall and nosed open Jack’s door.

  Meg was washing her face in her bathroom when her phone bleated again:

  It’s Shana. Can I come over? Done work at 8.

  Of course. Have you heard from Alex?

  She hit Send with soapy fingers.

  C u then.

  Frustrated, Meg hurried to Jack’s room and waved the phone at her sister.

  “Alex?” Melissa mouthed.

  “No. Shana.” She leaned down and hugged Jack. He had to be exhausted. “Sleep tight.”

  “Hey, Mom? Can Aunt Meliss put me to bed every night?”

  Meg smiled. “If you can talk her into it.”

  “If I did that, it wouldn’t be special, right, bud?” Melissa slid off the bed and pulled the covers up to Jack’s chin, tucking the blankets tightly under the mattress.

  “Cool. I like it like this. Like a mummy. Good night, Mummy.” Jack giggled at his own joke. “Wait, Mom. Don’t forget. Dad has to wake me up. You pinky-sweared.”

  “I know. Go to sleep now, bud.”

  In the hall, Melissa immediately cornered Meg. “What did Shana say?”

  “She’s coming over. She didn’t say whether she’d heard from Alex.”

  Melissa paused by Alex’s room and peered in. “Scene of the crime, huh? Doesn’t look too bad.”

  Meg pulled her sister into the bedroom. “Speaking of crimes, look what I found outside.” Holding out the screw, she described the broken door. “I’m sure this has something to do with Alex. With those pills. What if somebody came looking for her?”

  Melissa dropped onto Alex’s bed. “Back up a sec. Why would somebody come looking?”

  “When they saw Alex wasn’t in school today. Maybe it was a desperate customer. Or her supplier.”

  Her sister leaned back on her elbows and stared at Meg. “Really? And what supplier would that be?”

  “That kid Evan, I think. I have a bad feeling about him. She had to get those pills from somebody.”

  “You aren’t making any sense, Meg. It was one bag of pills. It doesn’t make her part of some drug cartel. You’re not even sure they were hers.”

  “I know what I saw. Somebody broke into this house.” Trembling, Meg dropped onto the bed next to Melissa.

  “Why do you even care about this right now?” She sat up to face Meg. “You need to focus on Alex.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. This dealer might know something. Maybe they’re working together. I don’t even get why Alex needed to get involved with this. She has a job.” She slapped her head. “Oh, my God. I’m such an idiot.”

  “Why?”

  “I never thought to call Alex’s boss. She might have been scheduled to work today.”

  Melissa coughed. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

  “Of course I do. I wouldn’t want Alex leaving on the wrong foot—she’ll probably want to work there again when she’s back home. I’ll call her manager in the morning.” Meg got up and toyed with the gum wrappers on the dresser.

  “Meg.” Melissa stood, catching her sister’s eye in the mirror. “You need to know something. Alex hasn’t worked in a while.”

  “Of course she has. She worked this week.”

  “Maybe she said she did.”

  Meg wheeled around. “Why would she lie about work?”

  “Because she was let go.”

  “Alex was fired? And you knew?”

  “She asked me not to tell you. Until she found another job. I gave her my word.”

  “Seriously? You gave Alex your word? What about me? How could you keep this from me, knowing everything that’s been going on?”

  “I’m sorry. I promised her. She told me when I ambushed her and made her come for coffee a few weeks ago. We got
to talking. I thought if I kept her secret for a bit, she might open up to me the way she used to, before the accident. You know, the cool aunt and all.”

  “Very cool.” Meg crossed her arms, jealous, unable to recall the last time she and Alex enjoyed a carefree meal or shopping together. “Why was she fired?” Please don’t let it be for shoplifting.

  “She wouldn’t say.”

  “Hmm. So this is her new job. Dealing drugs.”

  Melissa threw up her hands. “Meg, will you let it go? Can you just for once not jump to some crazy conclusion?”

  “Easy for you to say. Your daughter isn’t M-I-A.”

  “No, but my goddaughter is.”

  “What else haven’t you told me?”

  “Nothing.” Melissa jumped up to leave, pausing in Alex’s doorway. “I knew you would react this way. I was trying to help. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

  Meg pulled at her bangs. How could everyone around her—including a seven-year-old and a stranger who’d only met Alex this morning—know so much more than she did about her daughter? Was she that clueless a mother?

  But Melissa was Alex’s godmother, after all. And Meg was happy Alex had finally confided in another trusted adult. Maybe she’d do that again today—seek help from the right person. Meg’s throat constricted again at the notion of Alex coping on her own, cold and wet, possibly injured.

  She jumped up and hurried after her sister. “No, Meliss. I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked. “I know how much you love her.” Meg leaned against the stairwell, panic corkscrewing her gut. “We can’t lose her. We can’t.”

  CARL

  “I swear. We don’t know nothin’ about a girl.” For the third time, the taller of the two men across from Trooper Lopez maintained their innocence. Carl had had just about enough of the man’s arrogance. He lunged toward the pair across the counter, where the trooper had seated them for questioning.

  “What about you?” Carl’s face was inches from the shorter man, previously identified as the driver of the truck now parked in the Swiftriver parking lot. He’d been silent up to this point. A sour haze of smoke and cheap whiskey hung on the men. “You have anything to say?”

  “That’s enough, Alden. We’ll handle this.” Mendham gripped Carl’s shoulder and pulled him away. How could the officer remain so calm, with a sixteen-year-old unaccounted for? Even riding back from the accident scene, Carl had to restrain himself from wrenching the wheel from Mendham, the trooper had proceeded so cautiously.

  Mendham’s subduing of Carl produced a smirk from the taller man. “That’s the thanks we get for being good citizens? Maybe we’ll think twice next time. Isn’t that right, Kyle?”

  The man next to him nodded.

  The troopers swapped places, Lopez taking his place alongside Carl to observe. The men were the same two who had been heading into the store as Carl and Mendham departed earlier, Lopez explained. When the pair spotted the troopers, the taller man began asking questions—too many questions, Lopez thought. He finally got him to admit to calling in the accident. They’d spotted the scarf on the guardrail; when they stopped to investigate, they saw the car tracks. They hadn’t wanted to identify themselves because they’d had a few pops along the way, Lopez said, hoisting an imaginary bottle to his mouth.

  “You ran a check, I assume?” Carl asked.

  “Pure as snow. A couple of potato farmers from Fryeburg, headed to Lincoln for the night. When the storm worsened, they changed their minds and doubled back. Because of the weather, they said.”

  Or because of something that happened, Carl thought, straining to hear the conversation at the counter. With each second that passed, and each idiotic response from the jester in the orange hat, Carl seethed a little more, the possibility of finding Alex becoming more remote.

  The two were creeps, dumb as mud. Anyone could see that. Carl was certain they knew more than they were letting on. Maybe they got their jollies by returning to the scene of the crime, he thought. With the troopers absorbed in the interrogation, Carl slipped out Swiftriver’s front entrance, damning the chimes signaling his exit. He ran to the men’s truck and yanked open the passenger door, then the smaller one behind it. Too stupid to lock up. First mistake.

  The cab’s interior reeked of smoke, even in the cold. An empty bottle glistened on the front bench. Carl leaned over to read the label: Black Velvet Toasted Caramel. About as cheap a Canadian as you could get. His eyes adjusting to the darkness of the backseat, he made out a coil of rope on the cab floor and a blanket wadded against the far door. He pulled on a glove and yanked the blanket out of the truck, generating a flurry of silver that floated to the ground like confetti. Dropping beside the truck, Carl recognized their distinctive W shape immediately: Rainbow Bubble wrappers, the gum with the cloying fragrance Alex had chewed over almost three hundred miles. He had seen her crease the discarded casings into this signature origami and litter her rest-stop lunch tray and the backseat of his rental with them.

  Carl pressed a foil between gloved fingers. Those men are dead.

  Swiftriver’s door chimed again.

  “What the hell are you doing, Alden?” Mendham’s voice rang out from the porch.

  Carl got to his feet. “She was in this truck.” He held up the wrapper. “Proof.”

  The trooper was next to him like a shot. “Put that back. What the hell is wrong with you? You said you’re an ex-cop, right?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So you know we don’t touch anything without a warrant. And so far, we don’t have enough to hold these guys.”

  “We do now.” Carl showed him the gum wrapper. “This is Alex’s. Her brand. The way the wrappers are folded—it’s her thing. I watched her do this all day.”

  “It’s a gum wrapper. Plenty of folks chew gum. We’re going to need more than that.”

  “Then get a search warrant. Get some prints. Do I have to tell you how to do your job? Look inside the cab, for God’s sake.”

  Mendham pushed back his trooper’s hat, exasperated. “Remember who’s in charge here, Alden. Interfere one more time, and you’ll be looking at the inside of a jail.” Mendham picked up the blanket with his gloved hand and tossed it back into the cab, shining his flashlight inside for good measure. “I’m sure headquarters will be thrilled to death to cooperate now, given how you’ve just tampered with all the evidence. Good job. Thought you wanted to find this girl.”

  “I do. This is a clear-cut case. I can prove those wrappers . . .”

  Mendham suddenly leaned forward into the cab. “Well, well,” Carl heard him say. “What have we here?”

  “What is it?”

  “Hold your horses, Alden. You’ve done enough damage.”

  Carl paced alongside the truck, kicking slushy gravel.

  Finally, Mendham backed out of the cab, holding up his discovery. “Now we’re talking.”

  Carl blinked. Draped over the trooper’s pen was a single, long strand of hair. Held high under the glare of Swiftriver’s spotlight, the strand caught errant sleet, drooping under the weight, its fuchsia tail glistening.

  MEG

  Downstairs, Meg sat on the couch and sipped the tea Melissa made her. “Did I tell you what else I found today?” She described the bin of lunch notes.

  Melissa squeezed her hand. “See? She doesn’t hate you as much as you think.” Noticing Meg tear up, she pulled back. “Sorry. Bad joke. It’s just . . . she’s still there, Meg. When she comes home, we’ll find a way to get to her.”

  “Don’t you mean if? I’m praying Shana has a clue.”

  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up. Besides, I’m not sure I trust that girl. Ever since Alex’s party . . .”

  Meg’s phone skittered across the coffee table with a text:

  I’m outside.

  “Well, we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” Meg headed to the door. Didn’t these girls know how to use a doorbell? It drove her crazy when they just sailed into her house without knocking. “Alex told
me to come in,” they’d say, waving their phones and heading upstairs.

  At the front door, Shana held her purse over her head against the teeming rain. Once the girl was inside, Meg blinked at her transformation. Gone was Shana’s angelic strawberry-blond; in its place a dramatic two-toned style that began with stark brunette on top and finished midshoulder with a thick chunk of orangey-blond.

  She looked like a different person.

  “What’s going on?” Shana asked Meg. “Where’s Alex?”

  “We don’t know exactly. I was hoping you’d heard from her today.” Meg led Shana to the kitchen table.

  “Not today. Last I heard from her was last night, before I turned off my phone.”

  Was Shana messing with her? These girls all practically slept with their phones strapped to their chests.

  “Then did anyone else hear from her? Like maybe . . . Evan?” Meg strove for nonchalance.

  “Why Evan?”

  “I don’t know. They spend a lot of time together.”

  “I know, but they’re not, like, ‘in a relationship’ or anything.” With artfully chipped nails, Shana placed air quotes around the Facebook stamp of coupledom.

  Meg decided to call the girl’s bluff. “I found Alex’s stash, Shana. The one Evan gave her.” She described her discovery the night of the house party.

  Shana’s heavily lined eyes narrowed. “No way. Alex swore that was over.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, as if she hadn’t meant to say it.

  “What was over?”

  “Alex . . . helping him. She stopped, like, eons ago.”

  Meg chewed the inside of her cheek.

  “I’m serious.” Shana tossed her ombréd hair for emphasis. “Alex hid Evan’s stuff here once. Hid it. Not sold it. And she never took any, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Among the many things. “Is it possible Alex continued to help Evan behind your back?”

  Shana chewed a chipped nail. “I guess. I told her to stop helping him. She said she did.” She sat back, folding her arms. “It’s not like I’m Cass, though.”