BEING AN International Baccalaureate kid meant I didn’t have a lot of classes with the “general population,” as the IB teachers called them. They were a bit elitist about the program, which only served to feed the perception that we were intellectual snobs. In any case, the only classes we shared with Gen Pop were electives, and I usually chose more advanced placement classes over the arts or athletics, so my mom and I could save money on college tuition. I’d already decided I was going to study criminology at the University of Florida, if I got in. Mom thought I should apply to a few other schools, even some out of state, but I didn’t want to leave Gainesville, or her and Boots for that matter. The three of us were a good team.
In any case, being in IB meant I had no classes with Dare or his group of friends and not much opportunity to ask questions. I did manage to find Tameka in the halls between third and fourth period and ask her a favor.
“Have you seen Daniela?” I asked.
“She’s not at school, but she’s been posting pictures of her and Mason all weekend.” She made a gagging motion with her finger.
I’d seen the photos as well. It was unnerving how they almost seemed like tributes, as though Daniela realized their relationship was over. Was it because he’d been cheating on her, or was it for some other, more sinister reason?
“Can you keep an eye on her for me? Maybe take her temperature on this whole Mason situation?”
“Am I on the case then, Dick?” Tameka asked with a sly grin.
I smiled. I was actually starting to like the nickname. “I’d appreciate your help.”
She nodded. “I’ll get the dirt, but I’m not working for free. And I will collect.”
She made the motion of “making it rain,” and I only hoped I could afford her fee.
At lunch I usually read a book on the couches in the media center or played mindless games on my phone in some lesser-traveled corner of campus, but today I wanted to check in on Dare. Despite my mother’s warning, I wasn’t going to abandon him, especially with so many unknowns floating out there. I went to their usual hangout spot, under the shade of a sprawling live oak tree where there were usually a dozen or more people, but the only person present was Joey, picking the crusts off his sandwich and feeding them to the squirrels and birds swooping in to collect.
“Hey, Joey.” I ducked into his circle of shade, feeling a bit like an intruder.
“Hey.” He pulled his hat down lower over his eyes. Hats were against dress code, but I doubted anyone had bothered him about it that day.
I didn’t know if my mom had spoken to him, but Joey might know something about Mason’s whereabouts, whether he realized it or not. It certainly couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions. I took another step closer and sat down across from him in the grass. I’d always known Joey to be the sarcastic and somewhat grumpy sidekick to the Chalmers twins—the third leg of their table, with the power to approve or exclude someone from their ever-widening circle—but he seemed in this moment very fragile and not at all like the wise guy he portrayed.
“How you doing, Joey?”
He glared at me from under the hooded brim of his hat. “How do you think I’m doing?”
From past experience I knew Joey didn’t like attention or talking about himself—he usually let the twins have the spotlight. He also had a very low tolerance for small talk. The thing about the twins, and Joey too, was that even though they were incredibly popular, they didn’t get there by shitting on other people. They didn’t bully others or put down people who didn’t deserve it—they just made high school really fun and exciting, so you wanted to be around them to see what happened next. You could go to an Eastview party that was jocks mixed with drama kids and everyone got along fine. Which was why targeting Mason last year was pretty stupid on my part, because even while Mason and Dare seemed to have gotten over it, no one else at the school had.
“I heard Daniela stayed home today. Did Dare also?”
“No, he’s walking the track.” Joey jerked his thumb in that direction. Maybe Dare was trying to get out his nervous energy.
“Were you at the party Friday night?”
Joey glanced up briefly and then nodded. “I got there early to set up. Daniela was supposed to help me, but she was late.”
“When did people start arriving?”
“About seven. We wanted everyone ready for when Dare and Mason got there.”
I pulled out my phone and sketched a timeline. Mom told me the high school had footage of Mason pulling out of the student parking lot a little before seven. The cell phone was thought to be discarded by 9:00 p.m., which meant if someone had abducted Mason in that time period, it wasn’t Joey. I didn’t like to think of my classmates as potential suspects, but I also wasn’t ruling anyone out.
“Where was Daniela?”
Joey looked at me warily. “Daniela didn’t do anything.”
I studied my phone without saying anything to contradict him. I hoped the awkward silence would balloon until he felt compelled to speak. Joey glanced around, looking uncomfortable. I waited.
“She got there a little before nine.”
“And the party was supposed to start at eight?”
“Yeah.”
“Where did Daniela say she’d been?”
Joey shook his head and threw another piece of bread on the ground. “She didn’t.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Yeah. I mean, she stuck me with decorating. I don’t know how to tie a balloon or hang streamers. I did the best I could.”
“So, what did she say?”
“She said nowhere.”
Nowhere. That wasn’t very encouraging. “What was her demeanor when she got there?”
“I don’t know. She seemed… out of it.”
“Drunk?”
“No, just… weird. She wasn’t acting like herself.”
“Was she angry?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a mind reader.”
I backed off. Joey seemed protective of Daniela. Perhaps it was my reputation for getting them in trouble. Or loyalty to Mason. Or something else altogether.
“When did Dare get there?”
“A little after nine. Mason was supposed to meet him at Waffle Kingdom, but he never showed.”
“And when Dare arrived, what was he like?”
“Freaked out. He kept calling Mason’s cell phone. He sent people out to look for him. The whole vibe in the house was tense. Around midnight Dare sent everyone home except Daniela and me. He called his folks, and then they called the cops.”
Either Dare was genuinely concerned, or it was a pretense to shift blame away from himself. I didn’t like how so much of this case depended on my assessment of Dare’s character. If he had a valid alibi, this would be so much easier.
“Did it seem unusual that Dare would worry so quickly?”
“Not really. Everyone we knew was at the house, so where would Mason be? And the two of them are like that. If Mason doesn’t text him back, Dare will call me. Or Daniela. And Mason does the same with Dare’s drama friends. Their parents are kind of hands-off, so they’ve always had to look out for each other.”
Mason saved Dare’s life when he got stung by a wasp, and Dare found Mason in the woods after a dirt bike accident. I thought of that expression, my brother’s keeper, except that was a bad example because Cain was a killer.
A cold wind blew then, and my arms raised up with goose bumps.
“Was there anyone you thought should be at the party who wasn’t there?” I asked.
Joey opened his mouth and then shut it again. “Some of the guys from his wrestling team weren’t there yet, but I figured it was because they had practice.”
I made a list of people to talk to: Daniela De Costa, Peter Orr, Coach Gundry, the staff of Café Risqué…. My finger hovered over my phone, hesitating. I added one more name to the list: Dare Chalmers.
“Is there anything else you can remember, either from that day or at the party that seemed unusual to you? Something that at the time you dismissed, but now, looking back, seems really strange?”
Joey pulled off his hat and traced the rim of it with his thumb. His lower lip jutted out, causing his chin to pucker.
“There is one thing,” Joey said at last, obviously conflicted about it. I was okay with that. I could be patient. “Daniela was still wearing her cheerleading uniform.”
I tried to find the significance in that; I’d seen her in her uniform at school more often than not, including the day of the pep rally. “Is that strange?” I asked.
“She wears it for games and stuff, but she doesn’t, like, party in it. She always goes home and changes into something—I don’t know—cute. And her makeup and hair were a mess. That’s not like her.”
Perhaps because she’d just found out Mason had been unfaithful and did something awful to get back at him.
“Was she wearing Mason’s jacket?”
“No.”
“Did she mention a fight between them?”
“No, but they fight all the time. And it’s not like we talk about that stuff. Look, whatever you’re thinking, it wasn’t her. I mean, she’s annoying as hell and petty, but she wouldn’t hurt Mason.”
I couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince me of it or himself.
“Do you know if Mason was cheating on her?”
Joey’s eyes cast downward, and he studied what remained of his sandwich. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“But you suspect it.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said severely, eyes flashing with anger. Joey was loyal to Mason, and he wasn’t going to say anything that might paint him in a bad light. I understood that. He was also worried for his missing friend, which probably heightened his sense of duty. I knew when to back off.
“Thanks, Joey. This has been really helpful.”
“Does this mean you’re going to help find Mason?”
He had that same hopeful expression as Dare when he asked. I didn’t want to make any promises, unsure of what I could deliver. “I’m just asking questions.” As an afterthought I added, “For Dare.”
Joey nodded. “Good.”
I told Joey to text me if he thought of anything else, then headed out to the football field, where Dare was drifting in and out of lanes and ping-ponging back onto the track when he hit grass. I sat on the bleachers and waited for him to come around again, hoping he’d notice me without having to call out to him.
About halfway around he glanced up and saw me. Instead of finishing the lap, he cut across the field and joined me on the bleachers.
“Any news?” he asked. I wasn’t sure if he meant through GPD’s efforts or my own.
“I talked to Joey. I want to talk to Daniela too.”
Dare’s brow furrowed a bit. “She’s not here today.”
I nodded. “You get any sleep last night?” If anything, the hollows under his eyes looked darker and more chronic. His clothes were wrinkled as well, like he’d picked up whatever was lying around on the floor this morning or slept in it overnight.
“No,” he admitted. “I keep imagining the worst possible thing. And it just feels wrong to sleep or eat or do anything while Mason is missing.”
“You have to take care of yourself.” I thought back to the last time I saw Mason in the passenger seat of my car and the concern in his voice when he warned me not to harm Dare. I considered telling Dare about it, but I didn’t want to complicate things between us. “Mason wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”
Dare shrugged and squinted across the field to the athletic parking lot, where a police cruiser was pulling in. The car parked, and a deputy got out of the driver’s side, shielded his eyes from the sun, and surveyed the field. A lady in plainclothes climbed out of the passenger side. My mother. She spied me and Dare across the track and said something to the deputy, then started to make her way across the field.
“They found him,” Dare said and bolted toward her. It looked like he was trying not to run, which made for a ragged, hiccupping gait with his long scarecrow legs. I jogged after him and arrived at about the same time.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Mom said to me with momitude.
“It’s lunch,” I said back with teenitude.
“Did you find Mason?” Dare asked.
Mom placed a hand on his shoulder. Only I knew that meant it wasn’t good news. My stomach clenched, and I braced myself for whatever she had to report.
“We found some tire tracks,” Mom said, “at the edge of Newnans Lake. We have a crew of divers out now investigating. Your parents are there. They asked that we come get you.”
Dare swallowed, and his shoulders caved as a look of bleak understanding washed over him. “It’s Mason,” he said fatally.
“We don’t know anything yet.” Mom was trying to sound positive, which only meant it was as bad as I thought. “Why don’t you get your things, and we’ll give you a ride there?”
“I’m ready now.” Dare glanced over at me. “Charlie’s coming too.”
Mom stiffened. “Charlie has class.”
“Charlie can miss an afternoon,” I said. Mom shot me a look.
“Please, Detective, I need him there. Please?”
It was the second please that got my mom; it was so desperate and sad. There was some quality about Dare that made you want to protect him. Certainly Mason had felt the same way. Mom just nodded tersely and turned on her heel. I jogged back and grabbed my backpack from the bleachers and Dare’s too—he was ready to abandon it completely—and chased after them to the police cruiser. The deputy opened the door, and we climbed into the back. I’d done several ride-alongs with my mom, and I always knew a police cruiser by its smell—metallic, like biting a coin, mixed with the stress sweat of past perps who’d made the journey to the police station. The entire back seat was made of hard plastic, because people did strange and nasty things in the back of police cruisers.
Dare jammed his hands between his knees and rocked back and forth the whole way there. I placed a hand on his shoulder just to let him know he wasn’t alone.
We were traveling on Hawthorne Road, not far from where the search party was held. The cruiser pulled off the road onto a path that was just rutted tracks from previous traffic. We were surrounded on all sides by towering pines, which in the moment felt quite claustrophobic. The “path” ended somewhat abruptly in a dead end at the lake’s edge, where there were about a half dozen police cruisers, some unmarked, and a diving team with equipment. Dare’s parents stood on the banks, behind the crime scene tape, tense and vigilant.
“I drove right past here,” Dare muttered and then, as though realizing I was still standing beside him, he turned to me. “Friday night when I was waiting for Mason to meet me, I drove by here.”
“What time was that?” I asked, pulling up my timeline.
“I don’t know, quarter to eight?”
“Did you see anything?”
“No.” Dare shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Did Mason tell you he was headed out here?”
“No. He just called and told me he’d be late. Actually he texted me, and I called him back. I gave him shit for it, because I knew people would be at our house already.” Dare drew his hands down his face. “God, I was such an asshole.”
I was sure it was just Dare’s annoyance at his brother for flaking. “Do you know why Mason would be out here?”
“No. He doesn’t go for long drives like I do, says it’s a waste of gas. His truck’s a gas-guzzler. It’s so strange….”
He trailed off and glanced back toward the road.
“What’s strange?”
“I never come out here either. I just… had a feeling. You know?” He looked to me for validation, but I couldn’t give it to him. I’d never followed someone based on a gut feeling. I also didn’t like to think about what that meant: if GPD found something in the lake, Dare’s admission put him at the scene of the crime.
Dare looked bewildered by it all as he walked over to his parents and greeted them. The head of the dive unit conferred with Lieutenant Hartsfield, who communicated that to his team via radio. Hartsfield then went over to Dare’s parents to give them an update. I edged in a little closer.
“We found Mason’s truck,” Hartsfield said. “The license plate matches. We’re getting a tow truck out here to pull out the vehicle and see what’s what.”
Hartsfield’s face looked grim. Dare’s mother turned away and folded neatly into Mr. Chalmers’s chest like a bird nesting down for the night. His arms went around her to comfort her. Dare crouched down in a bed of pine needles and buried his head in his hands. I squatted next to him.
“He’s dead,” Dare whispered. “My brother is dead.”
“You don’t know that.” I tried to comfort him, but my words sounded hollow, even to me.
“I know it, Charlie. I’ve known since Friday. Somebody killed my brother, and when I find out who….”
Dare’s face reminded me of Boots’s snarl when he sensed danger. The tendons in his wrists were taut and straining. His hands were two fists, balled up with tension. His voice was a growl when he said, “I’m going to fucking tear them apart.”
DREDGING MASON’S truck out of the lake was a production. The first tow truck didn’t have a cable long enough. Then, once a longer cable was secured, the muck acted like a suction cup, and the one truck didn’t have enough power to get the job done. Its tires got stuck in the mud, causing the engine to keen in a terrible way. They had to use a second truck to tow the first one. Finally, with two trucks working in tandem, they were able to free Mason’s vehicle from the swampy bottom. GPD didn’t want to pull too hard and disturb potential evidence, so the actual towing of the truck went inch by devastating inch.
Dare alternated between rocking back and forth on his heels and pacing the outer perimeter of the crime scene. His concentration was focused on the activity in the lake, the tow trucks’ slow progress, and Mason’s F-150 as it slowly breached the surface like a whale coming up for air.
As soon as the truck was on dry land, the crime scene unit descended in full gear, and no one was allowed to cross the yellow tape, including my mother. She stood near their makeshift headquarters with a radio, giving orders and requesting information. A young woman in business casual clothing and waders stood next to her, taking notes. Normally I’d be doing that job, which I’ll admit stung a little. Meanwhile the crime scene specialists worked with industry, dusting the door handles, the tailgate, the sides and hood of the truck. They filled vials and swabbed samples. I stood as close as I could get away with and made notes of my own. The truck appeared to lean to one side, though it was hard to tell whether it was the vehicle itself or the swampy ground.
When the techs finally got around to opening the driver’s side door, a gush of water surged from the truck, and a spherical object rolled out along with it. At first I thought it was only a soccer ball.
It was not.
My stomach turned, and I had to fight down the urge to vomit. My first thought was to make sure Dare hadn’t seen it. He and his parents, thankfully, were angled toward the passenger side. At the same time, the techs realized what they’d stumbled upon and took a step back. One lifted the radio and sent a message to my mother, who quickly activated her team to form a human blockade. The officers moved slowly but coordinated, trying their best to make it appear casual and accidental. Mom glanced my way, and without any instruction I strode over to where Dare and his parents were waiting.
“GPD is asking that we move back a little farther,” I told them, making up something that sounded official. I spread my arms wide and herded them backward. They shuffled away, out of the line of sight, and then Dare’s mother recognized me.
“You’re that boy who got Mason in trouble last year,” she said with an angry look on her face.
“Yes, ma’am. Charlie Schiffer.”
She took the opportunity to tell me what she thought of me, which wasn’t very much. I nodded along with her assessment, but I wasn’t giving her my full attention because Dare had caught on that there was activity happening on the driver’s side of his brother’s truck. He broke away from his parents and strode in that direction. An officer tried to intercept him, but Dare pushed past. His tennis shoe got caught in the muck, and he nearly stumbled but regained his balance and continued on with purpose. I jogged after him, but I couldn’t prevent Dare from seeing what was sure to give him nightmares for the rest of his life.
The forensics team was carefully bagging Mason’s severed head.