“Yeah, we did. We do.” I latch onto the word. It gives me hope.
“Girls can be such drama queens. They look for shit to make them sad. They overreact to everything.” He looks back at me. “Sheri wasn’t like that. And she was even less like that when you started dating. Wasn’t sure if I was a fan of you at first.” He stops and looks at his phone for a moment. “I’m getting to be, though.”
“Look, man, I’m not looking for a fan or a friend. I just want to find Sheri.”
Charlie looks up from his phone.
“Yeah, I definitely think you’re all right now.”
chapter 31
We carry on down the trail toward the playground, and now I can see the hunched concrete structure of the washroom ahead. Even though we aren’t far from civilization, it feels like we’re in the middle of nowhere—eerie and isolated.
Charlie stares at the washroom for a moment, then climbs to the top of the monkey bars and scans the horizon. I secretly hope he starts verbalizing what he’s doing. I peer in the same direction but stop because I don’t know what I’m looking for. He hops down, landing softly like an athlete.
He makes for the side of the building marked women. I wonder if it’s unlocked this late in the season. With a closed fist he pushes the door open.
I step in behind him. The door’s hydraulic hinge exhales shut. It’s cool and gloomy in here. Sunshine, dulled by the dirty, frosted skylight above us, struggles to reach the depths of the space; shadows soften the edges of everything in here. There are two stalls with working doors, a hand dryer that looks like someone’s beaten it with a hammer, and a mirror of polished metal. Small bathroom tiles line the walls and form a sink. Drawings, swear words, and the phone number of someone named Chelene are graffitied around the bathroom.
Charlie steps into the first stall and closes the door.
“You gotta go?” I joke.
He comes out quickly and walks over to the sink without saying a word. It looks like he’s counting steps but who knows. He turns around and moves to the other stall. This time he shuts the door and locks it. There is a faint echo. He stays in there for a moment.
Click—he steps out.
I’m starting to feel useless. I don’t know what he’s doing and I don’t know what we’re looking for. I’m absolutely lost.
“Charlie?” My voice echoes and breaks the silence. It’s louder than I expected and it startles me, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.
He stands there for a moment. “What’s in the garbage can?”
I lean in to look. “Nothing. Not even a garbage bag.”
“Can I see your phone?”
“Why? You have your own.”
“Come on. Quit arguing. It’s lunchtime and I’m hungry.”
I sigh and give it to him.
“What do you listen to? Hip-hop, no doubt.” I shoot him a look but I see him scrolling through my playlist. “Ha, knew it. Nothing Top 40 and nothing old, right?”
I need to learn to ignore him but not just yet. “Right, because I listen to good music.”
Charlie snorts with derision, then asks, “You got headphones with you?”
“Yeah?”
“Hand ’em over.”
“Charlie—?”
His look speaks volumes. I dig into my pocket, pull out my earbuds and put them on his palm. Maybe this was all just an elaborate plan to get me to the middle of nowhere and shake me down. Except, I asked him to do it.
He unravels the cord and plugs them in. He hands me the earbuds. “Put them on.”
Once I’m wearing them, he hits play.
“Can you hear me?”
I nod.
He turns it up. “How about now?”
Yup.
He cranks it a little louder. I see him say something and I pull out one bud. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He motions me to put it back in my ear. As I do, he turns me so that I’m facing the mirror. His hazy, distorted reflection moves behind me like a creeping ghost.
He steps up beside me and pushes the tap on. The water runs and he walks back into the stall.
“Do you think she was in here?” I yell.
I don’t see him and I turn. “Hey assh—!”
Suddenly, he’s right beside me and it scares the crap out of me. I pull out the earbuds. “What the hell are we doing here?”
“Lay down.”
“What’s wrong with you? I’m not lying down.”
He stares at me, chewing on the corner of his lip. The beat of the music pumps through my headphones but it’s distant and far away.
“What are we doing here?”
He shushes me. “Lay down.”
“Are you trying to help or is this you messing with me?”
“Down.”
“No.”
He sighs and flips on his phone flashlight and shines it on the ground beneath the sink. He crouches, looking under the bulkhead that holds the long trough, illuminating all the dark nooks and crannies of the space. He stands and aims the light at the mirror, then turns it so it shines beneath his face, illuminating him like a ghoul. He stares at himself for a moment and I watch.
“Spooky.” He turns and smiles. “I think this is good for now.” He shuts the phone light off and walks past me.
I take a long look around, trying to figure out what the hell we just did.
“Shepherd?”
I turn and Charlie’s standing at the door, holding it open with a sleeve-covered hand. “Let’s go.”
chapter 32
Charlie’s already heading back down the path to the car.
“What now?” I ask, following him. “Shouldn’t we go that way?” I point out toward the distant fields.
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re done.”
I look at him.
He sighs and comes back toward me. “Take out Sheri’s map.”
I take it out, unfolding it carefully.
He points to the map and then down the path behind us. “This leads to the railroad. Then there’s a farm and then another farm over there. After that, nothing. Just the path.”
I nod.
“We’re just wasting time going that way. If I was going to do something to Sheri, this would be the place.”
“What do you mean if you were going to ‘do something’ to Sheri?”
“Stay calm, man. Quit thinking with your heart. I’m just saying that if someone was going to do something, it would have to be secluded or else they’d be seen or heard. This place is sheltered, it’s concealed, and it gives whoever a place to do it.”
I stare at him and feel the next question rolling out of my brain and hanging deep down, lodged in my throat before I can finally say the words. “Do what?”
He looks at me and he shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. I really don’t.” He hands back the map, and looks across the fields to the south. “But whatever it is, I don’t think it’s good.”
chapter 33
We’re almost back at the car when I hear bzzz… bzzz.
Charlie pulls Dillon’s phone out of his back pocket.
“Hey, I thought you were going to dump it?”
Charlie shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You recognize the number?” he asks, turning the phone to me.
Dillon’s phone vibrates again in Charlie’s hand as I rack my brain. The bzzz seems so loud in this quiet place. I’ve seen the number before but my heart is beating too hard to recall who it belongs to.
“Wait.” I reach into my pocket and pull out Detective Gekas’s card.
“It’s the same number? The cop?”
I nod.
“Cool.”
Cool? I’m thinking none of this is cool.
&nbs
p; “I guess they’ll be talking to Dillon again, huh?”
He’s as casual as can be. He walks to the garbage bin where he dumped his iced coffee cup and wipes the phone down with his shirt before tossing it inside. It rattles against the metal for two more rings before finally going silent.
He saunters over to the car and I wonder if I maybe need a little of his “who gives a shit” attitude.
He knocks on the hood with his palm. “Come on, time’s a-wastin’!”
I shake my head, digging the car keys out of my pocket. “You sound like a middle-aged white guy.”
He smiles. “Let’s move along now, hear?”
I laugh and unlock the door and we both climb in.
As I pull back onto the road, Charlie spends a ridiculous amount of time adjusting the seat. He checks himself in the vanity mirror, drawing back his lips, running his tongue across his teeth, flicking his hair to ensure appropriate shagginess. He catches me staring.
“What?”
“Why are you so happy?”
“Why shouldn’t we be?” he responds. “We’re getting somewhere. We know where Sheri—” He pauses before settling on, “We know where Sheri disappeared from and we have the profile of the suspect, which, I think, is a hell of a lot more than Gekas has.”
“Wait—? We have a profile? When—? How did we come up with that?”
Charlie smiles. “When they called Dillon.”
“They think Dillon is responsible for all of this?”
“No, not him. But he fits their profile, just like you fit their profile.”
“What? What are you saying?”
“When we had everyone meet this morning. All the stories were the same. Except yours.”
“How was mine different?”
“You’re not from her school.”
“So?”
“That made you the anomaly. Until now.”
“The phone call?”
“Yeah. No one else has been called on twice, that we know of. Something has made him a suspect.”
“But what?”
“I don’t know and I don’t really care because that isn’t part of our investigation.”
“If he’s a suspect though—?”
“We can’t go chasing Gekas’s lead. It’s counter-productive. Let her do her own work.”
“So, what then? Do we ignore Dillon? ”
“Well, he’s still a suspect. But he’s not the only one.”
“Who else do we have?”
“Based on what the cops are looking for? A teenager. Most likely a male. Relatively decent home life.” He rolls his eyes at me. “Seems to have some connection to Sheri, maybe goes to her school or knows her from parties or some other activity.” He stares out the window thinking until I interrupt.
“Earlier, you said is.”
“Huh?”
“When you were talking about Sheri and our suspect, you said whatever it is.”
“So?”
“You don’t think this is done, do you? You don’t think Sheri is the last.”
“No, I don’t. She may not even be the first. But there’s something else…” He gets quiet for a moment.
I stare at him. “What?”
He sighs and shakes his hair out of his face and relaxes back in his seat. “Don’t know.” He points to the car stereo. “May I?”
“Go ahead.”
He twists the dials and Dad’s Tom Petty compilation comes on. Charlie joins Petty at the top of his lungs, “I’m freeeee fallllling!”
He sings all the way back to the school. He knows every word.
It’s actually impressive.
chapter 34
Back at Guthrie, classes are still on and there’s no one outside. Charlie sings out the last note of “Don’t Do Me Like That,” then turns down the music.
“That was awesome! An in-the-moment moment, you know?”
He’s right. Despite the fact that Sheri’s missing, at this precise moment things feel light and sort of right. It’s been too long since I’ve felt this way.
Charlie digs into his back pocket, pulling out Dillon’s wallet. He rips it open. “Pfft. Velcro? Grow up,” he says to himself, and it makes me smile again.
Charlie removes the last of the paper bills. At a glance, it looks like about fifty bucks—a twenty, couple of tens, some fives. I know it’s not right but I don’t stop him.
He stuffs the cash in his front pocket and nonchalantly tosses the wallet out the window.
Two uniformed constables come out of the main entrance, talking to a man Charlie says is Guthrie’s resource officer.
I straighten in my seat.
“Easy,” Charlie whispers, not taking his eyes off them.
They walk across the grass toward a patrol car parked down the street. The resource officer stands on the curb, waiting for them to drive away.
“See, nothing to worry about. My guess? They’re looking for Dillon Ross.”
Charlie and I watch the resource officer go back into the school. We exchange glances. It’s the first moment I actually feel connected to him. I look down the street—the police cruiser is waiting at the stop light.
Charlie gets out of the car and shuts the door, but bends down to the open window when he hears me say his name.
“Charlie? We’re going to find her, right?
He straightens up, tapping the roof of my car. “Go home, Shepherd. We’ll talk later.”
He turns and walks away from the school.
chapter 35
At home, I park the car in the driveway. It’s almost the end of the school day. Although I haven’t been to school, I’m exhausted. My body, my brain—I want to close myself in my room and shut the world out. I need some time to process everything Charlie and I did today. Mom’s probably still at work but Dad’s likely home. I’m hoping if I walk in quietly enough, he won’t notice.
In the house, I slide off my shoes and set the keys on the counter. The house is quiet, so I’m relieved. I head straight up to my room.
“Anthony.”
It’s Dad. I freeze halfway on the stairs.
“We need to talk to you.”
We? Mom shouldn’t be back from work this soon. Gekas? Is she in the kitchen?
I don’t want to do this. I exhale in annoyance.
“Your mother and I are waiting. Come on now.”
I’m not in the mood for a conversation, or an argument, or anything. I walk into the kitchen.
The counter is bare, no tea like a few days ago.
Mom’s standing and her arms are crossed.
I try for lightness. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Weren’t you supposed to be at school?”
I make one last attempt to save my ass. “Uh. School’s done?”
“I cancelled my appointments because we need to have a talk.”
I cringe.
“We got a call from the school that you weren’t in class—at all—today. Can you explain to your father and me where you went and who you were with?”
I quickly run through my day. Taking the car without asking. Going to Sheri’s school without permission. Almost getting into a fight with her ex, Dillon. Taking off with Charlie Wolfe—who picked Dillon’s pocket, btw—then going to the last place Sheri was seen.
None of this is gonna fly.
“I drove around.”
“You drove around. By yourself?”
“Yes.”
“All day?”
“Yes.”
“You expect us to believe that?”
“Yes.”
I roll my head in a gesture of total irritation and I’m not apologetic about it either. I’m getting fed up and tired and it’s making it difficult to edit my thoughts.
“Get off my back!”
I never raise my voice but I need to do something. There’s no way I can get into all the messy details with them. They won’t understand and they’ll get in the way of my search for Sheri.
“Anthony! Don’t raise your voice to your mother.”
“Look,” I say, trying not to raise my voice and failing, “I’m tired and I don’t need to tell you anything!”
I know I’m out of line. This isn’t typical for me, but I also know this has nothing to do with them.
“Yes, you do have to tell us—”
“No, I don’t. Just send me to my room.”
Ollie barks and I can see my parents are speechless.
Silence hovers between us.
“What? Are you going to ground me?”
They never have—there was never a need to—and I know they won’t.
“So I skipped. Big deal! So you didn’t know where I was for a few hours—you don’t need to know my every move.”
Dad doesn’t raise his voice, “Yes, we do. We’re your parents.” He’s so calm right now it only makes me angrier.
“What do you think I could possibly be doing?”
Mom isn’t as composed. “You weren’t at school, where you were supposed to be. You weren’t with your friends. You’re not at the gym. You need to be responsible.”
I’m offended because they know I am—or at least, I was.
“You need to let us know where you are at all times.”
“What for?”
My parents look at each other, then Dad says, “Since Sheri—”
I don’t need to hear another word.
“Things aren’t safe for you—”
“I’m done here!” I turn and this time I make it upstairs.
“Anthony!” Mom tries one last time, but I ignore her and slam the door to my bedroom.
chapter 36
Practice makes perfect.
He had worked hard to prepare for the runner. He had considered the details, rehearsed the steps, and when the time came, he had performed perfectly. He hadn’t left a thing to chance. The police hadn’t found her yet, hadn’t figured out what he’d done, and he was quite certain they hadn’t even begun to figure out who he was.
Along Comes a Wolfe Page 9
