by Katie French
“Oh no you won’t,” I said.
Without thinking, I got out of the car. Not bothering to shut the door, I marched toward the wooden steps. A breeze blew the tall grass that lined the parking lot. It smelled sweet. I drew courage from the familiar scent and slipped Mom’s ring on, intending to keep it safe. I would never forgive myself if I lost it.
I hurried down the steps and hit the sand running. “Hey!”
The guy’s head snapped in my direction. The light from the nearest lamppost reflected in his eyes. My heart skipped a beat until I realized he was wearing glasses.
He dusted his hands, stretching to his full height.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.
“Excuse me?” he asked in a deep baritone.
I came to a stop a few feet away from him, my gaze flicking from his face to the evidence at his feet. Something was scribbled on the sand in Spanish.
SANTIAGO ALCON. VOLAR ES VIDA.
My mouth opened and closed. I glanced toward the spot where I’d first seen him “erase evidence,” wondering if I would find something similar scribbled there.
“Hey, haven’t we met?” the guy asked in accented English, cocking his head to one side, dark brown curls tilting with the motion.
There weren’t many foreigners in Summers Lake, or I probably would have forgotten him, but I remembered that Tom had introduced us. It was the Latin Hollister model. I grasped for a name, then gave up and peeked at the sand.
“Um, yeah, I think we have. Santiago, right?” I asked.
“That’s me,” he said, smiling and reaching out a hand in greeting.
Really? It was four in the morning with no one around, not exactly the time to get all buddy-buddy. I stared at his hand as if it belonged to a criminal, which it did… maybe.
He pulled his hand back, seeming unaffected by my snub.
“You must have partied hard,” Santiago said, leaning in closer, his nostrils flaring.
Was he trying to smell me?
“I’m not drunk!” I snapped, realizing what he was doing.
“Well, I thought…” His eyes went to the trashy sight of the bonfire. “That maybe you fell asleep in your car or something.” He winced apologetically, but appeared a little put out by my attitude.
I took a deep breath to calm myself, realizing I was being extremely rude and probably seeing foul play where there was none.
“No, I just couldn’t sleep.” I forced a friendly smile that felt more like a grimace. “I normally sit outside to clear my mind when that happens. I live nearby.”
It was true. I did tend to go outside when I couldn’t sleep, except I normally just climbed to the top of the lighthouse to trace its beam of light as it scoured the surface of the lake. It was very relaxing and did the trick every time.
“How about you?” I asked. “Do you always jog at this ungodly hour?”
He nodded. “Pretty much. I like that there’s no one around… most of the time,” he added with a wink.
“How long have you been in Summers Lake and school?” I asked, going for a casual tone.
“Just a little over a week.”
I frowned. “You started school in May?”
“I’m with an exchange program. They sent me over for a few weeks at the end of the school year to check out where I would be attending next year. It’s intriguing so far.” The tilt of his lips made me think he was flirting with me, but I ignored it.
“How come I haven’t seen you before? It’s not a big school.”
“I’ve only attended a few classes.”
He had an answer for everything. “Yeah? Is that how you met Tom Palmer?” My tone had an edge of accusation. Smooth, Sherlock, real smooth.
“No,” Santiago responded, narrowing brown eyes behind his round hipster glasses.
Crap! Maybe I’d overdone it with my interrogation. I was about to wave my hand in the air to dismiss the question, but he answered it pleasantly enough.
“I actually met Tom at one of the lakeside basketball courts.” His mouth stretched in a smile, forming a dimple. A gust of wind from the lake ruffled his hair, tousling his perfect curls.
Vaguely, I wondered if all Spanish boys were this attractive.
“My thing is football, you see,” Santiago added, then shook his head. “I mean soccer. I can’t get used to calling it that. How Americans can call what you do football is beyond me. Anyway, Tom gave Ki and me a few lessons.”
“Ki?” I asked.
“The other exchange student. You met him, too.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember.”
Santiago held my gaze. His expression was open and welcoming. He didn’t look like someone who had something to hide. Or someone who was out in some clandestine, evidence-erasing mission. I ran a hand through my hair, considering the absurdity of my current situation. I was interrogating a virtual stranger. In the dark. At a crime scene.
As I brought my hand down, Santiago got a hold of it and pulled it toward his face. “Where did you get this?” he asked, adjusting his glasses as he examined the dragons closer.
Defensively, I pulled my hand back and covered it with the other one. “I don’t even remember,” I lied. “Just somewhere.” I made a dismissive gesture.
All casualness left Santiago’s face. He frowned, his eyes growing intensely dark. I tried to break eye contact, but I was unable to. It was as if some invisible force kept me frozen in place, tethered to his suddenly dangerous gaze.
Greetings, Dragon Warden. It was Santiago’s voice—echoing inside my head. I nearly jumped out of my own skin.
At the same time, I became aware of blue lights flashing by the parking lot. I turned away from Santiago, trying to convince myself I’d imagined the poltergeist intrusion into my brain and blaming my shock on the fact the police had finally bothered to show up.
A couple of patrol cars pulled close to the wooden stairs. An officer got out of each one.
“About time!” I exclaimed. “They should’ve been here more than an hour ago.”
I threw a righteous glance over my shoulder, then whirled around, trying to spot Santiago.
He was gone.
I searched all along the beach and the lake, but I saw no one—not even a trace. My gaze fell to the sand where not even his shoe-prints remained.
Chapter Nine
The cops were about as useless as I thought they would be.
I stood watching them work from my perch behind the fluttering yellow police tape, fuming. The two officers scoured the beach, collecting evidence, which mainly consisted of them putting trash and red plastic cups into bags. After that, they checked through each of the parked cars, six in total. I watched with detached horror as they dug through Mercedes’s car, the one I’d ridden in only hours before.
When all that was finished, both officers got back inside one of the cruisers and shut their windows, probably so I couldn’t hear their conversation. They spent time on the radio and on the mounted computer, but nothing else happened. Occasionally, Officer Yeager would frown at me, then go back to ignoring my presence.
Fools.
Leaning against my Mustang, I tried to clear my thoughts. Honestly, though, I was exhausted. Nothing made sense. Had I dreamed what I saw with Santiago? The conversation with him had seemed so real, but sleep deprivation could really mess up people’s brains. Plus, I could be in shock. The panic was raw, coiling around my throat and making it hard to breathe at times. I dialed Mercedes’s number often enough that my phone died. Which brought even more panic. What if she called?
Mad at myself for being so careless, I started my car and plugged the phone into the charger. I watched the battery icon tick, but sitting there made me realize how bone weary I was. My eyelids started to droop.
A knock on my window woke me with a jolt.
I blinked into the light. A very angry middle-aged woman was peering down at me. I’d never seen her around before. When she saw I was awake, she knocked again.
“Where is she?” The glass muffled her voice, but the frustration made it through loud and clear. I squinted at her, trying to figure out what was going on. She must’ve been in her forties due to the wrinkles and the sour expression on her face. Her blue eyes were wild and outlined with smears of yesterday’s mascara. Her short blond hair stuck up at all angles like she’d just crawled out of bed. Actually, she was wearing pajamas with a windbreaker thrown over the top.
When I didn’t answer, she slammed both palms on my car window. “Where is she? Tell me now. Where is my baby? What have you done with her?”
Panicked, I checked that my doors were locked. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know you,” I stammered through the glass.
She lifted her hands to strike again, but Officer Yeager appeared, stepping between her and my vehicle.
“Ma’am, I told you to go down to the station. Someone is there waiting to brief you. I’m going to have to ask you to leave this young lady alone.”
The woman gave Officer Yeager a nasty look. “What are you doing to find her? I saw you sitting in your police car. My husband knows a state cop, and he’s going to crawl right up your ass when he hears about this.”
Officer Yeager nodded, guiding her away from my Mustang. I was glad he was rescuing me, but now I couldn’t hear their conversation. Carefully, I rolled the window down.
“…know you are upset, but we assure you, we are doing everything we can to find your daughter. You know how kids are. A prank like this right before graduation is normal.”
“This is not normal!” the woman yelled. “Hailey always comes home.”
Ah, she was Hailey’s mother. And she wouldn’t be the only one to wake up and realize their child was missing. My heart sank as I thought of all those parents finding empty beds and cars not in garages. Mercedes’s parents would be devastated, her little sister, too. I put my head on the steering wheel, holding back tears.
Hailey’s mom cursed, and I looked up just as she peeled away and gave a choice finger to Officer Yeager. He just sighed and went back to his cruiser, adjusting his pants. When he caught me watching, he shook his head. “Go home,” he mouthed.
“No,” I mouthed back.
What if they returned? What if evidence was found? How could I leave knowing I was the last person to see any of them?
But the morning waned on with no signs of my friends. A few more parents showed up, some crying, some angry. They stared at their children’s cars with terrified expressions on their faces. Some tried to get inside the vehicles, but Officer Yeager stopped them, reminding them that, until they knew more, each vehicle was now a crime scene. At those words, I was both chilled and a bit relieved. At least it meant they were taking this seriously.
Dad showed up at about seven. He pulled his Jeep in next to the Mustang and gave me a forlorn look.
I shrugged sheepishly.
He wiped a hand across his brow like he was relieved he’d found me.
And now, I was dead. I shrunk into my seat, waiting for the lecture of the century.
Leaving the Jeep running, he got out and clomped around to my window. I rolled it down, bracing myself.
“Sorry, Dad. It’s just… I couldn’t sleep. I know I should’ve called you or left a note, but I didn’t want to worry you and my phone died and—”
“Are you hungry?” Pulling off his smudged glasses, he wiped them on the hem of his shirt.
“That’s it? No grounding? No ‘You’re in big trouble, little lady?’”
Face drawn and sad, he ran his gaze from me to where the police car sat. “Circumstances require that I take a lighter approach this time. Is it working?”
“Whatever parenting book you read, it has my vote. Definitely working.”
“Good.”
Lord, he sounded tired. “Do you want me to drive?”
“Definitely not,” he said firmly.
I palmed my keys and grabbed my purse. I still felt like I shouldn’t leave, but the set of Dad’s shoulders told me if I refused, Good Cop Dad would turn into Bad Cop Dad, and I wanted to keep on his good side for whatever came next. Who knew how many nights I might need to be out searching?
Wearily, I dragged my body out of my vehicle and locked the door. As our Jeep pulled out, Officer Yeager watched us go, nodding like he was happy to see me leave. It was all I could do not to flip him off as we left, but Hailey’s mom had taken care of that.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Dad asked.
I could tell he was digging for information. And to be honest, I had nothing to hide. “I can’t rest while they’re gone. What if I miss something?”
Nervously, I spun my ring, staring out on the lake through the trees as we drove toward town. The water was crystal clear and still. The trees along the lakeshore danced with the gentle breeze. What a beautiful day for a horrible turn of events. It seemed wrong that the sun was shining and the birds were singing. Gray and stormy would have fit so much better.
“Look, Li. None of this was your fault. Whatever happened to those kids… You couldn’t have protected them. And, selfishly, I’m just glad you’re okay. I couldn’t stand to…”
He didn’t finish and didn’t need to. Mom had died years ago, and Dad had never moved on. At first, I was glad. It was just him and me. But as the years passed, I came to realize that Dad should have someone. As hard as it was, I tried to set him up, going to great lengths to introduce him to single teachers, waitresses—any woman who seemed to fit the bill—except he never looked at them twice. And now, in a few short months, I’d be leaving, too.
Or maybe not. Not if they didn’t find my friends. It wasn’t possible to just recover after something like that.
I lowered my head, trying to tell myself I’d already shed enough tears. How many times had I cried already? Too many to count.
Instead, I used my favorite defense mechanism and started talking way too much, pretending everything was fine.
“Where are we going to eat? Somewhere good. You know, I don’t get people who say they can’t eat in times of crisis. That’s all I want to do right now. And coffee. Gallons of it. Don’t tell me you want to go to Gino’s. That place has cockroaches.”
He sniffed a couple of times, but joined in. “I like Gino’s.”
“It’s terrible, and you know it.”
We settled on Family Diner, and our conversation went quiet, which was just fine with me. I needed to think, but I had a cranial salad instead of a brain. Things were all jumbled up—Santiago, Tom, his mother, Officer Yeager, Hailey’s mom.
A burning sensation drew my attention to my hand. My palm felt like I had it sitting on a radiator, but Dad didn’t even have the heat on. A glint of light made me zero in on Mom’s dragon ring.
Was it glowing? When I touched it with my other hand, it felt hot.
“What the…”
“Hmm?” Dad asked.
“Nothing.” I dropped my hand over the ring, heart beginning to pound, and stared blindly out the window. What was happening?
Something flashed in the sky just outside my line of vision. Whirling, a blur streaked through the pines before disappearing behind me. It was big to be a bird and too close to the ground to be a plane. My mind struggled to give a name to what I had seen.
“Did you see that?” I asked.
“See what?” Dad replied.
The ring grew hotter. I tried to pull it off, but it was tighter than when I first put it on. An insistent humming began in my ears, and my whole body seemed to vibrate. I gripped the door handle, panic building.
“Dad, pull over.”
“What?”
“Pull over!”
He swerved, the tires biting into gravel as he followed my request. Even before we stopped, I threw open the door and jumped out of the Jeep. Taking a few steps onto the grassy shoulder, I tried to suck in deep lungfuls of air. Was this a full mental breakdown?
Hands on my knees, focused through the trees towar
d the lake, trying to get a handle on myself. I had to be losing it. No sleep coupled with the stress was making me hallucinate. Would I have to go to the hospital? See a psychiatrist? All kinds of weird, terrifying scenarios played in my head.
Then I saw it.
Through the tall pines, the lake rippled with morning sunshine. Something glinted as the light hit it—a reflector from a bright blue running jacket.
Ice trickled down my limbs as my brain realized what I was seeing. A body was washed up against the shoreline.
Letting out a cry, I started forward. Mercedes? Was she dead?
I ran as best I could, pushing through the branches, Dad calling my name behind me. The body was on its side, back to me, legs in the water and torso laying across a fallen log. The hood was up, so I couldn’t see the hair. Fear and revulsion pumped through me, but I had to know.
I reached where the land met the shore. Feet sinking in the muck, I got to my knees and leaned forward. Trembling hands reached for the lifeless shoulder, and I rolled the body over.
It was Sam. His face was drained of color and splattered with mud. His jacket was shredded at the shoulders and underneath, too, his skin lacerated. The rest of his body appeared intact.
My fingers fumbled for a pulse, but they were shaking too badly.
At my touch, his eyes flickered open.
Shocked, I lurched back. “S-Sam,” I breathed, the rest of my words freezing in my throat.
His hand closed around my wrist, feverish eyes locked with mine. “They’ll come for you, Lila. They know you know.”
“Know? What do I know? Sam, what does that mean?”
His eyes closed, and his body went limp.
I grabbed his arm. “Sam? Sam!”
Dad splashed into the water beside me, nearly falling in headfirst. But he grabbed onto a branch and regained his balance in time.
With the last of my strength, I dragged Sam’s lifeless body onto the shoreline.
