Thicker Than Water

by Natasha Deen

  He ignores the dig. “It’s Ella, isn’t it?” He shakes his head. “Of course it is. How can you concentrate on a show when you’re worried about her?” His voice softens. “Listen, Ella’s smart. I’m sure she’s okay. I bet she’s just blowing off steam somewhere.”

  “It feels like more than that,” I say. “She hasn’t posted anything online in days. She won’t return my texts—”

  “She was pissed off. You two went at it pretty good.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.”

  Ayo winces. “I mean, maybe she needs some space.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But not answering my texts? That’s mean, and Ella’s not mean.” The sick feeling from last night rises through me again. I want to tell Ayo what I saw. I need someone to tell me I’m crazy for thinking my dad’s holding back information. I bet he and Ella were talking about her university classes or something innocent like that. My dad doesn’t know anything that can help the police. That’s why he’s staying silent.

  Right. That makes sense. So why does my gut say there was more to their meeting than a chat about math class?

  Just then several vans pull into the school parking lot. I see the local TV-station logo on one of them. Ayo and I stand.

  “What’s going on?” Ayo says, nose pressed against the window now. “Do you think they found her?”

  I shake my head. “If the police had found her, they would do a news conference in front of the station. They wouldn’t hold it here.”

  “Maybe there’s been a break in the case.”

  “Maybe.”

  Ayo stretches to get a better view. Not that there’s much to see. The reporters climb out of their vans and start setting up their cameras. A couple of them form a loose group and start talking.

  “Maybe someone in the school has information, and they want to talk to him.”

  Dad’s here. Did the reporters find out something? Are they here to make him explain what he was doing with Ella? The worst-case scenario flashes through my head. My dad, handcuffed and shrinking from the cameras. Reporters following me through the streets, shouting, Did you know about your dad? Why didn’t you come forward sooner?

  I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure if I should stay here, run away or go warn Dad.

  “Look.” Ayo points.

  Ella’s mom is walking up the pathway. She looks horrible but somehow perfectly put together at the same time. She’s one of those ladies whose clothes and hair are always just right.

  The horrible isn’t in her clothes or her hair. Her face looks like she’s aged a hundred years in the past two days. And she moves like she’s even older. Her steps are slow and painful. She’s clutching some sheets of paper.

  Mr. Wexford, our school principal, comes down the steps to greet her. He takes her hand and then hugs her. Together they walk over to where the reporters have set up.

  “She must have called a press conference,” Ayo says. “That’s not good.”

  “I know. It means the cops don’t have any clues.”

  “She’s doing a callout for people to come forward.” He glances at me, then goes back to watching Ella’s mom. “You should be out there.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “You were the last one to see Ella.”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “Do you want me to come with you? I’ll stand beside you.”

  We watch as Loni steps forward to the microphone the reporters have set up. We can’t hear what she’s saying, but she is standing very upright. Several times she turns away from the cameras to wipe her eyes.

  “She’s one tough lady. What did Ella call her?”

  “The iron butterfly.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. She’ll be—” He stops. His eyes go wide as Loni’s legs buckle. Suddenly she’s a crumpled pile of clothing and tears. The reporters keep filming.

  Mr. Wexford helps her up. He moves her to the side and then takes control of the mic. I still can’t hear what anyone’s saying, but I can guess.

  Ella Larson was a straight-A student, and a wonderful and shining light at Fairmont High School. She has a bright future ahead of her. Her family and friends miss her. They want her back. If you have any information that could help, please phone.

  He leads Ella’s mom away. I want to chase after them. I want to tell them and the cops about my dad and Ella. There’s no way—no way!—my dad would have done anything bad to Ella. But if that’s true, why won’t he say anything to Detective Tyron?

  The bell rings. Ayo and I head to class, but I can’t get the image of Loni sobbing out of my head. I’ve got to try again to talk to my dad. This time I’m going to push until I get some real answers.

  Chapter Three

  After school I find Dad in his office, laughing at his phone.

  “What’s so funny?”

  His gaze flicks my way, and he quickly slides the phone into his pocket. “Oh, just a staff joke making the rounds.” He seems a bit nervous. “Ready to go?”

  I close the door. “I have to talk to you first.”

  A muscle twitches at the base of his jaw, and he forces a too-bright smile. “Whoa, this sounds serious. Hope I’m not going to be grounded.”

  “It’s not a joke, Dad.”

  “Now I’m really worried about being grounded.”

  I take a breath and try to control my temper. And my fear. “It’s about Ella—”

  “Not this again.” He shoves a pile of papers into his leather bag and slings it over his shoulder.

  “I have to ask you—”

  “No, no more asking, no more talking, no more. I’m sorry Ella’s not talking to you or her mom. She’s a good kid, but—”

  “That’s it? That’s all you can say? Ella practically lived at our house for the past couple of years. She’s almost family.”

  “But she’s also an adult,” says Dad. “Maybe we don’t understand what she’s doing. Maybe we don’t agree with it, but those are Ella’s decisions. She’s a smart person, and she’s responsible. If she took off, she must have her reasons for not telling anyone.”

  “How do you know?” I ask. “How do you know she wasn’t upset and then someone took advantage of her?”

  “Because Ella has a strong sense of survival,” he says. “No matter what Loni says, that girl knows how to take care of herself. Trust me.”

  What is he hiding? “Fine, she’s mad at her mom. Why would she freeze me out?”

  “You know the answer to that—”

  “She wouldn’t do that! Ella wouldn’t ignore me just because we had a fight. We’ve had lots of arguments.”

  “Maybe this was one fight too many.”

  “It’s not like her!”

  My dad sighs. “There’s a point when people get tired of arguing. They get tired of feeling like they’re not being heard. Ella was going through a rough patch at university. Her mom wasn’t helping, and you weren’t listening.”

  “Were you?”

  “Yes. I told her to take a breath and do what she needed for self-care.”

  “So she took off and iced everyone out.”

  “I didn’t say she did the mature thing,” he says. “Look, I know you want to go into law enforcement, but you’re not a detective just yet. Concentrate on your schoolwork, and let the cops do their job. If something happened to Ella, they’ll find out. They’ll get the answers.”

  This is my chance to make him tell me about that day. But I can’t get the words out. My life is all about respecting my elders and not questioning my parents. It’s the West Indian way. I’m trying to force myself to say what’s necessary, but the only words I can find are, “But we—you—have information on Ella. You should talk to them.”

  “I did,” he says. “The detective called me this morning, and I told him what I knew.”

  “What was that?”

  “The last time I talked to her was a week ago. She was freaking out over school. I told her to take a breath and do what was right for her.”

/>   “That’s it?” What about the mall? I want to ask, but I can’t get the words out.

  “What else would I tell them?” Dad asks. “That Loni was overprotective? That Ella decided she’d had enough and blew up her life? That she’s probably on a beach in Mexico right now?”

  “Is she?”

  “God, Zack, how am I supposed to know that?”

  “Because, Dad,”—I blurt out the words before my fear can stop me—“I saw you at the mall.”

  “What?”

  “The mall. The day Ella went missing. I saw you at the mall.” I swallow, but I can’t get my throat muscles to work properly. “I saw you with Ella.”

  The room is dead quiet.

  Dad’s looking at me intently. I feel like I haven’t taken a breath in a million years.

  Then suddenly he’s laughing. “Oh, Champ. You poor kid—I shouldn’t laugh…”

  I don’t know whether to be relieved or mad. “You think it’s funny?”

  That stops him. “No, I’m sorry, Zack.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have laughed. That was wrong. I was just thinking about you and your love for crime dramas. How you create issues where there aren’t any.”

  “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

  But he’s not paying attention to my words. He looks into my eyes, his hand still on my shoulder. He squeezes. “God, what you must have thought. You must have been losing your mind, wondering why I didn’t say anything to the police.” He smiles, but there’s sadness in it. “You poor kid, thinking you had to be loyal to me. It must have felt like you were betraying Ella.”

  “Yeah.” The air rushes into my lungs. “That was exactly what it was like.”

  “You could have saved yourself a lot of pain if you’d come to me sooner.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He releases his grip and heads to the door. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t me and Ella. Like I told Detective Tyron, the last time I saw Ella was before she left for university.”

  My insides turn to ice. “What?”

  “I wasn’t at the mall. Maybe you saw Ella there, but I highly doubt it. You must have seen two people who looked like us. With all that’s been going on, you thought you saw something you didn’t.”

  “Dad—”

  “I wasn’t there, Champ.” He looks at me hard. “If you tell the police otherwise, not only are you lying, but you’re also leading them down the wrong path. They’re going to waste time and resources chasing down a clue that only exists in your head.”

  “I know what I saw.”

  “I believe you,” he says. “I believe you think you saw us. But you didn’t.” He sighs. “Seriously. In a million years, do you think I’d ever hurt Ella?”

  “No.”

  “If I had information that could help the police find her, don’t you think I’d share it?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why are we having this conversation? I wasn’t at the mall with her, and you know I would help her if I could.” He strides to the door and opens it. “So are we good to go?”

  I take a second, then say, “Yeah, sorry, Dad. I must have been confused.”

  “It happens. I know you love your shows and the discovery of the eyewitness at the last second. But that stuff’s fiction. In real life people mix up details all the time.”

  I nod, pretending I agree. But here’s the thing. Eyewitness testimonies can be unreliable because it’s a stranger looking at a stranger. I’ve lived with my dad all my life. I know what he looks like. I know his movements. And now I know something else. He’s lying to me. Which means he was with Ella and she did get into his car. What I don’t know is why. Why were they together? Why is my dad lying? And why did he just warn me off going to the police?

  Chapter Four

  The next day Dad tells me I have to take the bus home because he’s got a meeting at another school. “Another one?” I say. “That’s the second one this week.”

  “Professional development with the other guidance counselors,” he says. “Best practices, new methods, all that crap. I don’t know why it matters. To be good at this job, you only have to do one thing. Listen to kids when they talk.”

  “Which school?” The questions are out before I can stop myself. “How long will you be?”

  “Why?” He grins. “Are you going to make sure I don’t cut class?”

  I force a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll be checking your homework, young man.”

  “I’m scared.” He fishes in his pockets and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill. “Here, grab a coffee on me for the ride home. I’ll see you at dinner, Champ.”

  But he texts Mom around six and says the meeting’s running late. She and I eat dinner by ourselves.

  “I guess there must be a lot for those counselors to talk about,” I say.

  She doesn’t answer. She just keeps pushing her carrots around the plate.

  “Have you talked to Loni lately?” I ask. “Mom? Mom.” She’s completely zoned out.

  “Sorry, honey.” She looks up from her plate. “What did you say?”

  “Ella’s mom. Have you talked to her?”

  Her fork falls to her plate. “What a mess,” she says. “I hope this is just Ella being rebellious. That nothing serious has happened to her. Do me a favor. Never get into a car with someone you don’t know. And don’t talk to people you don’t know. And if someone asks you to help them find a lost dog or cat—”

  “Geez, Mom. I’m seventeen, not six.”

  “Elle is eighteen! And where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  We finish dinner in silence.

  Dad comes home around eight. Mom’s not happy.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be this late?”

  “I texted you to eat without me, didn’t I?” He throws his coat on a hanger and comes into the family room. “Hey, Champ.”

  “Because no school meeting lasts that long,” says my mom, following him in. “Where were you really?” She is not letting this drop.

  “God.” He rolls his eyes and flops down in the armchair. “If you must know, Mom…”

  The skin on her face tightens.

  “Since I knew I was missing dinner, a bunch of us went out for wings and pizza afterward.”

  “And you couldn’t bother letting me know? I made you dinner.”

  “There’s this great invention,” my dad says. “It’s called a refrigerator? You put your food in it, and the next day you can reheat it. You should check it out. All the modern homes have them.”

  My mom snorts. “Modern? When’s the last time we upgraded anything in this house? Everything’s falling apart, and instead of taking care of things around here, you’re out spending money partying with your friends.”

  Now it’s my dad’s face that gets tight. “Well, if it’s money that’s the problem, you’ll be thrilled to know I’m selling the SUV.”

  “What?” I don’t mean to get into their fight, but this is news.

  They’re too mad at each other to even notice I’ve said anything.

  “Why are you selling it?” Mom perches on my armrest. She looks like an eagle about to swoop in for the kill.

  “Because you’re constantly on me about how much it’s costing us.” Dad reaches over and takes the remote. He goes to switch the channel, then notices it’s already one with a game on. He tosses the controller back to me. “If I trade it in for something more economical, it’ll save us money on monthly payments and gas. Besides, the SUV’s a lemon. I always seem to be taking it into the shop for some stupid reason. The electronics don’t work. The odometer is acting up. I had to take it in twice in the last three weeks.”

  Including the day Ella went missing. I remember him saying he had to go pick it up from the shop.

  “Why did you finally decide to sell it now?” Mom’s eyes narrow. “We’ve been talking about it for months.”

  “Because I’m sick and
tired of your—” For the first time in this argument, he registers that I’m in the room. “Because it’s good for the family.” He stands. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

  “I thought you already ate.” Mom shoots the words at his back.

  “You made a big deal out of your fabulous homemade dinner, so I’m eating, okay?” He doesn’t turn around.

  Mom’s on her feet in a flash and follows him into the kitchen.

  I stay on the sofa. Maybe Dad’s selling the SUV because he’s tired of Mom harassing him about the money. But the timing’s weird. I asked him about being with Ella at the mall, and now he’s getting rid of the car?

  Something’s seriously wrong, and I have to figure out what it is.

  Dad comes to my room a little later. “Sorry about earlier, Champ. It’s not cool for your mom and I to fight in front of you.”

  “It’s okay. Stuff happens, right?” I don’t want him to stay, because I don’t know what to say to him. On the other hand, I don’t want him to leave, because I need him to tell me something that will stop the terrible thoughts in my head.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” I say.

  “You sure?” He comes over and sits on my bed. “You’re not getting sick?”

  “No. Why?”

  His phone beeps. He pulls it out and checks the screen. Then he turns his attention back to me. “You had the game on. You never watch sports. What’s going on?”

  Man, he’s better at catching clues than I am. “Nothing. You caught me in the middle of flipping channels.”

  “You sure?”

  “What can I say? I was looking for something to watch when you came home. Then you and Mom…” I purposely trail off and look at him.

  It’s enough to make him stand. He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I get it. Like I said, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” He heads for the door.

  “Hey, Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What was on your phone?”

  “A very funny joke,” he says, “but one for grown-ups only.” He smiles. “I know you’re almost an adult, but you know…” He points down the hallway. “I’m in enough trouble as it is. I don’t need her yelling at me for corrupting you.”