by Gina LaManna
My dad sighed. “What’s going on?”
Pulling open the freezer, I found Nicky’s stash. Burritos, pizza, and one bag of frozen veggies that might have fossilized since he purchased them. We’d have to talk about all-around nutrition just as soon as the girls were safely home. I turned my attention back to the phone. “Listen, you know who my grandfather is, and so do the cops. I’m worried that knowledge will cloud their judgment when it shouldn’t in this instance. We’re looking for two of my cousins, and they’re innocent. They’re little girls, Dad, and they went missing today. We have to find them. The longer they stay away, the more I’m getting concerned it’s not a running away prank, even though they left a note.”
“A runaway note? Kids run away often, and more often than not, they’re back within a few hours. Are you sure it’s not a stunt to get attention? It hasn’t been a full day, yet.”
“They’re not just any kids,” I said. “They’re Carlos’s grandkids.”
Finally, Jackson got the picture I hadn’t fully wanted to paint. “You think your family may have something to do with it.”
Shifting from one foot to the other, I leaned against the counter. I focused on choosing my words carefully, a habit that didn’t come naturally to me. Mostly, I blurted things out as they came into my head, just a little less abrasively than Meg.
However, I was treading on uncertain territory here. My father had worked for the FBI, and he’d chased down criminals just like my grandfather. He’d probably come face to face with people like Anthony and questioned people like me.
Now here I was, asking him to help the “other side.” Of course, it was for a good cause, and yes, the girls were likely innocent victims in this whole matter. Regardless, if Jackson Cole started asking for favors in the name of Carlos Luzzi, he’d be sticking his neck out on the line in more ways than one.
“I’m just worried. Nicky is a good dad for the most part, but he’s held some shady ‘jobs’ in the past, and I’m worried something from before the girls’ time is coming ’round to bite him in the butt.”
“He doesn’t know anyone who might want something from him?”
I shrugged, though it didn’t translate across the phone. “I pushed him pretty hard for an answer, but he says he doesn’t know, and I believe him. He’s worried sick.”
“What if he’s—”
“I trust him, okay?” I said with a bit more force than necessary. “We’ve all made mistakes, him as much as anyone else. That doesn’t mean he’d do anything to put his girls in danger.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.” Jackson Cole paused, the silence dissolving into awkwardness. “I was just going to say that because he’s extremely distressed at the moment, maybe he’s forgotten something important.”
“Oh.” Warmth prickled up my neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”
“I understand.” His voice quieted. “You’re worried, too, and I’m sorry this has happened. But he’s stressed, his mind frenzied, and you have to do the thinking for him right now, Lacey. Try to put your family ties to the man aside, and look at it objectively. Could Nicky’s past have something to do with the girls’ disappearance?”
I moved to the front of the fridge, my heart sinking as I spotted the Christmas Lists the girls had scribbled just before the holidays under Meg’s watchful eyes back at Nora and Carlos’s estate. They’d grumbled and groaned about writing these lists at the time, and now the sight of them proudly hanging from a magnet gave me a flash of sadness. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Be objective, Lacey.”
I looked up, wishing I had a different answer. “I suppose that it’s possible.”
“And now you’re between a rock and a hard spot because you don’t want to get Nicky in trouble, but you will if it means finding those girls,” Jackson said. “And that’s why you called me.”
“Yes. You don’t have to help,” I said. “I know it’s going out on a limb for us, but I have to say one thing before you decide. The Luzzi family chose this life, myself included, and it should be our responsibility to deal with the consequences. But the girls, they didn’t choose this. Marissa, she wants to be a ballerina. Clarissa wants to be a witch. Or vice versa, I’m not sure.”
“Big dreams for little girls,” he said. “I want to help.”
“But—”
“I want to help.”
I smiled across the phone line. “I wouldn’t ask for your help if I didn’t desperately need it.”
“You said your piece, now I’ll say mine. I’m helping because those girls didn’t deserve to be kidnapped, if that’s what happened. However, my getting involved with your grandfather is a slippery slope. I want to help you, and I’ll always help you, Lacey. I just hope your grandfather doesn’t ever put me in a tight spot. This is a favor to you, not to him.”
“I understand.”
“You’re my daughter, Lacey, and I love you. I loved your mother to the end of the earth and back, but I also believe in justice. In doing what’s right. In working for an honest living,” he said. “And I believe that people deserve their consequences. For good, and for bad.”
“I won’t be upset if you choose to stay out of this mess.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he paused for a beat. When he continued, his voice was rounder, almost gentle. “Plus, I am secretly flattered that my daughter turned to me in a time of crisis. That’s what fathers are for, and since I haven’t done my job for thirty years, I have some making up to do.”
My heart warmed, but I pushed past the fuzzy feelings and focused on the task at hand. Filling my father in on everything, every detail from the runaway note to the discarded phones to the state of Nicky’s fridge, I finished within a few minutes, my breath coming in gasps.
“For future reference, I probably didn’t need to know about the head of lettuce in the fridge,” Jackson said when I finished talking. “But I appreciate your thoroughness and attention to detail.”
“I try,” I said. “Never know what’ll be important. I watch Sherlock Holmes, and I know sometimes it’s the weird stuff that counts.”
My father groaned. “Don’t believe everything you see on TV. Now, for the next steps, I’ll give a few friends a call and see what they can do.”
“Thank you,” I breathed. “What should I be doing?”
“Keep Nicky close by. Pick his brain, keep him talking, calm him down. Look at popular hangout spots, go to the mall, but don’t, under any circumstances, put yourself in danger. Do you understand?”
“Understood.”
“I don’t believe you’ll listen,” he sighed. “But I suppose that’s as good as I’ll get for now. Is Anthony with you?”
“Yes, so is Meg.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything,” he said. “Stay safe, please.”
“Wait, one more thing,” I said. “Are you out of town…on business?”
He cleared his throat. “Better I don’t say.”
I knew what that meant. My father’s best friend and former partner had been murdered last year, and the killer had never been brought to justice. However, my father – now retired – intended to solve this one last case and put the murderer behind bars. Recently, he’d even worked out a trade with Oleg, a man who’d caused havoc for the Luzzi Family on more than one occasion. For five grand and a new passport, Oleg had flipped on a man much more powerful than him – a man known only as The Fish. It was Oleg’s new information that’d likely drawn Jackson Cole out of town.
“I see,” I said, stubbing my toe against the ground. “Well anyway, thank you for answering the phone.”
CHAPTER 17
“Where could it be…” I walked circles around the perimeter of the girls’ bedroom, a place that must’ve been inhabited by fairies and rainbow-farting unicorns. Because really, that was the only logical explanation for the state of this space: sequins glimmered from every corner and multi-colored streamers dangled from the ceiling. Pink and
purple walls flanked the edges of the room around a princess-style canopy draped above the beds. No less than three hundred different flavors of LipSmacker lined one shelf, all flavors of bubblegum, cupcake, and frosted sugar cookie present. Anthony couldn’t bring himself to take a step into the room.
I shook my head at him. “I see you hiding out there.”
“It’s just so, uh…” Anthony glanced at Nicky, who’d crossed his arms and glared back. “Feminine.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” I picked up a fake-diamond encrusted mirror. A string of rainbow beads dangled from the end. I was looking for something, anything, that might be a clue to the girls’ whereabouts. Or at least the password for their phones since, unfortunately for us, the girls had locked their devices. “So, you have no idea what the passwords to their phones might be?”
Nicky shook his head. “I didn’t know I was supposed to keep tabs on that. I mean, I limit the time they have the phone. I check the call log when we get the phone bill, and there haven’t been any unusual charges.” Nicky threw his hands up. “There’s so much to think about as a parent. How do people do it?”
“You’re doing it, and you’re doing a good job,” I said, deciding to save the “refrigerator” talk for a later date. Better not to spring nutrition on him when he was already distraught. “Just think of four-digit numbers. Maybe a birthdate, a secret handshake, the name of a stuffed animal…”
Nicky rattled off the girls’ birthdates. I punched them into both phones, but neither worked. Instead, I got a warning telling me I only had three attempts left on each device. Otherwise, I’d be locked out of the account entirely.
“Okay, we have three tries left per phone,” I said. “Let’s make them count. Any stuffed animals?”
“Marissa had this doll named Dolores that she carried around for ages. Poor thing has dreadlocks from being dragged around,” Nicky said. “Can you try that?”
I shook my head. “Too long. Four letters or numbers. Could be either.”
“What about…” Nicky paced around the room, picking up various items from the girls’ dresser and shelves, before poking around in their closet. “How about Snow White? The name of Clarissa’s favorite Disney princess.”
“Well, seeing how that’s even longer than Dolores, that won’t work,” I began. “However—”
“Snow,” Anthony interrupted. “Try snow.”
Trying the nickname, I got rejected again and shook my head. “Two attempts.”
“What happens if you guess wrong twice more?” Nicky sat on one of the two beds in the room. Both were pushed to the walls, one covered in a pink quilt, the other purple. I sensed a theme.
“If we get locked out, we have to take the device to the store, or to Clay, or…the cops, I suppose.” I shrugged. “Or we wait thirty minutes. That’s usually the lockout length of time on these phones.”
Nicky’s shoulders sagged lower.
“Hey, chin up,” I said. “Let’s not do that. Let’s just guess the right answer.”
“But how?” Nicky threw himself back on the bed. He was too long for the mattress and his legs hung off the side, but something about seeing him hugging the purple pillowcase to his chest cranked my determination level up to “high alert.”
“Okay, what about a friend’s name?” I tapped a finger against the phone. “Think, Nicky. I’m not around enough to know their friends, so I can’t help you here.”
“They’ve been talking about this girl in their class a lot lately. Her name is Bessie.” Nicky moved the pillow so it covered his face. He spoke mumbled words through the fabric.
“Speak up, and don’t suffocate yourself. Stay with me.” I yanked the pillow from his face. “Who is Bessie?”
“She’s at home with mono, and the girls were talking about the kissing disease, which is how I remember the name. She’s very rich, according to Clarissa,” Nicky said. “But now I can’t remember if they were talking about her because she has mono, or if it’s because she’s their friend. All I know is that her name came up.”
“Bess?” Anthony suggested.
“I’m going to try it if nobody has any other suggestions.” I looked around the room. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” When nobody spoke up, I let my fingers punch in the numbers corresponding with the letters. At the blinking red rejection note, I sighed. “One attempt left.”
“You have to figure it out, Lacey. I’ve guessed wrong every time,” Nicky said. “I can’t do it.”
My eyes flicked over a few boy band posters, covered in hand-drawn hearts. They were posted next to the girls’ bookshelves, which were filled with a variety of art projects, forgotten permission slips, and snow globes. Underneath all the knickknacks sat a few books – some of them worn at the edges, others never once touched.
“Man, I don’t miss middle school,” I said, thumbing through the stash of books. “The hearts everywhere, boy bands, crushes…hang on a second, do the girls have a crush?”
Nicky was near-comatose on the bed. My fingers danced lightly over the bookshelf until I found what I was looking for, the one thing every student loved to hate, and hated to love. The yearbook.
I flipped open to the last pages, quickly filtering through the lame, unwitty, un-genuine responses, until I found a simple one: Have a good one – Luke.
“Luke, you dog, you’d better be the right boy.” I tapped my finger against his inscription, then flipped through the pages until I reached Marissa and Clarissa’s class. Miss Nice Apples, the girls’ teacher, had her picture displayed front and center. The very same woman who’d oh-so-kindly hit on my boyfriend when I’d brought him along for show and tell.
“What is a H-A-G-S?” Anthony asked over my shoulder. “HAGS?”
“It’s short for ‘Have A Good Summer’,” I said. “Really heartfelt, huh?”
“If my kid ever gets too lazy to write a complete sentence, I’m going to have something to say about it. I mean really, what are they so busy doing that they can’t write out their name?” Anthony grumbled, backing away and looking around the room uncomfortably. “I’m going to wait on the couch. This room is claustrophobic.”
“Okay,” I muttered. My brain was still stuck on the part where Anthony had said “my kid.” Was Anthony planning on having kids? With me? Without me? Was he planning to let me know either way?
“Did the code work?” Nicky asked. “The kid’s name. Luke?”
“Oh, I’m just checking something,” I said, forcing my gaze past Miss Nice Apples, trying my hardest not to imagine her name and Anthony’s in the same sentence. Especially a sentence following Anthony’s declaration about kids. I still didn’t know if I was a “kid person” or not; some days I thought yes, while other days I worried if I could feed myself, let alone a smaller version of me. “Focus,” I muttered to myself. “Luke, where are you?”
Nicky watched as I thumbed through pages of pictures, one after another filled with photos of braces, unfortunate haircuts, and sweaters these kids would later regret.
Eventually, I found Luke. I’d been hoping for little hearts and girly squiggles around his name, but there were none. However, when I held the book straight out in front of me, it fell open to Luke’s face, the center crease having opened to this particular spot a time or two. Slight folds in the corner had me thinking the page had been dog-eared by a girl with a crush. Either Marissa or Clarissa had taken a peek at Luke on more than one occasion, and I had a feeling he might be our guy. “I’m going to try it now.”
“I don’t have any better ideas,” Nicky said, his voice dry. “So be my guest.”
Punching in the four letters, my fingers hovered over the Enter button.
“You call that food?” Anthony startled me, appearing in the doorway, his hands on either side of the frame as he rounded on Nicky. “I just opened your fridge for a glass of water, and I’m afraid I need a tetanus shot. Is that what you feed your girls? Where is the wheat bread? The eggs? Have you heard of protein?”
“Okay, Mr. Nutrition Master, we can do a seminar that explains the food groups later,” I said. “Leave it alone for now.”
“Food groups? According to Nicky, there are two of them.” Anthony held up two fingers for emphasis. “Expired and frozen.”
“We must be related. I have two food groups, too – sugar and caffeine,” I said. “I—”
“I’m trying to do a good job!” Nicky shot up so fast from the bed, his retort so vicious I jumped a half inch off the floor. But when I came down, so did my thumb. Right on the Enter button.
“It worked!” I leapt off the floor. “Luke is our man!”
“Both phones?” Anthony asked. “Or just one?”
Typing L-U-K-E into the second phone rewarded me with a loud buzz and a pop-up notification that the phone was locked for thirty minutes. After the half hour was up, I could try again. “Just one, but that should give us a starting point. Let’s see who the girls are talking to…”
I flicked through the phone history, the call log suspiciously blank. The texts, however, remained intact. Most of the messages were about young people things like homework, boys, and dances. But there was one, tucked up near the top, that was different from the rest.
“Look at this.” I held up the phone so Anthony could read. “What do you think?”
Meet me tomorrow. Where we discussed. I can’t wait to see you!
M
“Who is M?” I asked. “Do you think M might be our ticket?”
“It’s dated yesterday,” Anthony said. “Which would mean that today they were supposed to meet this whoever is behind the letter ‘M.’”
“Yes, but the way this is worded, it sounds like they know each other,” I said, chewing on my lip in thought. “‘Can’t wait to see you?’ That’s friendly. You don’t say that to a stranger.”
“True, though it could be some sort of online acquaintance. We can’t rule out the chance the girls didn’t know this person in real life.” Anthony gestured to the girls’ computer in the corner of the room. “It could be a gaming buddy, a dating app, or any number of dangerous trends I don’t know about. Kids these days live in a terrifying world.”
