Thirty-One

Lauren

DeSanto Residence

Saturday, April 7

7:00 p.m.

I lie in bed, staring at the fake stars on my ceiling and thinking about how much more time I spend staring at them than at the real deal. Kadence helped me glue them up there when we were in eighth grade. Even after my birthday bedroom remodel, the stars remained. Kadence always told me to reach for the stars. “Reach for the stars before they burn out,” she’d say. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes.

It seems so symbolic. I thought what I had was real. With Kadence. With Jude. Now everything is more confusing than ever—it’s been a fake, glow-in-the-dark kind of life, and right when I finally get what I’ve been reaching for, it’s nothing but plastic.

After finding Coco earlier, I left the search party and came home. I actually managed to fall asleep for a few hours, but now I am all but swallowed up with my own self-pity. Which sucks. It’s not anything I’m proud of. I’m thinking that I’m basically a pathetic mess, probably destined for a mental breakdown, when my window rattles so loudly I nearly have a heart attack too.

BUM…Ba-BUM. BUM…Ba-BUM.

Jude.

I didn’t answer his earlier call or his text because I wasn’t ready to talk to him and I didn’t understand how or why he was out of jail.

I’m still not sure my head is clear enough to talk to him, but there’s nothing I want to do more. I want answers. I deserve answers. After everything the detectives showed me this morning, I deserve to know the truth. I need to know why Jude was spying on us. Filming us. Was it some form of irony? A joke? Finally doing what we’d falsely accused him of all those years ago?

And helping me investigate Kadence’s disappearance, was that a joke too? Was any of it real? Those moments I thought we’d con­nected…that kiss…

The knock comes a second time. Still I hesitate. When a long, drawn-out silence follows, I panic that I’ve waited too long. I launch myself from the sheets and yank open the curtains. My heart stutters, then pounds against my sternum when I find Jude standing there, facing my window. I might have even given a little shriek.

I open my window, but he doesn’t come in like before. Instead, he shakes his head and curls his fingers, beckoning me to follow.

For several seconds, I stand there and stare at him, backing away. Is he serious? I shake my head. No way.

He tilts his head slightly to the side, studying me in that way he sometimes does. I squirm uncomfortably, like a worm that’s been washed onto the sidewalk after a rain. Completely exposed.

Jude steps toward me, bracing his hands against the window frame. “I take it the detectives showed you some stuff?” His blue eyes are piercing as he searches mine. “Do you really think I’d hurt you, Ren?” But then a shadow crosses his face, and I don’t know. I really don’t know.

My heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. I stare back at him. Breathless. And then my answer comes to me: “No,” I whisper, my raspy voice almost giving out on that single word.

And the thing is, I mean it. I spent years side by side with Kadence Mulligan, the master liar, the queen of feigned sincerity. Enough to recognize a lie when I hear it now. With Jude, I only hear the truth. “No, I don’t think you’d hurt me.”

Without letting myself think any more about it, I grab my jean jacket, some wool socks, and slippers. They aren’t the best choice in footwear but my sneakers are in the front hall, and I don’t want Mom and Dad to know I’m leaving.

I run across the grass to meet him. “Did you escape or something?”

Jude makes a noise that tells me I’m way too naive for my own good. “Yeah, I went totally Shawshank on them.” Then, when I don’t laugh, he adds, “They didn’t have enough to hold me, but I bet you aren’t surprised to hear that.”

“I never thought you did it,” I say, my breath burning in my lungs.

“And why is that?” he asks. There’s a strange bite to his question that I don’t understand.

“Because I know you.” I smile encouragingly. “You’re angry. You have every right to be. But I don’t think you’d ever really hurt anyone. Not even Kadence.”

Jude stares at me with a look that again is impossible to decipher.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing.” His eyes are narrowed like he’s trying to read me too. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“Is what it?” I ask. I shift my weight. The grass is wet and it’s soaking into the soles of my bedroom slippers.

“Is that the only reason you knew it wasn’t me?”

I tilt my head like he did earlier, trying to hear the real question behind his words. “Isn’t that enough?”

Jude rolls his eyes and takes me by the elbow. “Come on,” he says. “My truck is parked around the corner.”

“Why?” I ask. It’s the first time I feel the tickle of unease. “Can’t we talk here?”

“There’s something you need to see.”

He guides me through the darkening backyards, around the Johnsons’ swing set and the Webbers’ hot tub. We cut the corner of the Obodzinskis’ yard, then Jude pulls open the driver’s side door of his truck and pushes me inside. I don’t say anything. Neither does he.

I move all the way to the passenger window and turn my body to fully face him. I need to go on offense. I want answers to my own questions before I need to see anything he wants to show me. But he doesn’t do or say anything. He stares at the steering wheel. There’s a line of muscle in his jaw, pulsing against his clenched teeth.

Finally I can’t stand it anymore. “What? What am I doing out here?”

Jude bends down and pulls something out of his backpack on the floor between us. I know what it is immediately. It’s Kadence’s missing laptop. My stomach sinks.

The cops might have released Jude, but it looks like they were right about him after all. Apparently my genius internal radar is on the fritz, and I just got into a truck in a deserted cul-de-sac with a criminal.

“Where did you get that?” I ask, even though the better question is, why am I not getting out of his truck?

Just as I’m reaching for the handle, Jude opens the cover and double-clicks on a desktop thumbnail. Kadence’s face appears on the screen. It’s a jolt to the system to hear her voice again. Jude pushes the computer onto my lap and my hands go to steady it.

“Now, we’re going rockabilly, baby!” Kadence says with a sweep of her hand. “This vibe fits a lot better with the new world of indie musicians. I think I’m categorized as indie folk or indie pop or maybe both on the download sites. They can’t make up their minds where to put me. But you know that’s fine with me. I like being indefinable. Music should be in a world without labels.”

I push the laptop away from me onto the seat between us. Jude’s sitting at the furthest edge of the driver seat, not crowding me. “What is this?” I stare at the image of Kadence on the screen. Another rushing mix of emotions chokes me. For a second I forget about how Jude got his hands on the laptop because I can’t believe the words that just came out of Kadence’s mouth.

“This is a bunch of crap,” I finally manage to sputter. “Kadence subscribed us to TuneCore so we could put a couple of our songs on iTunes. She spent like two whole days trying to decide what to write down for our genre. She’s all about the label.”

“I didn’t mean to click on that video,” Jude says as if he doesn’t care about Kadence’s rockabilly bullshit. He scrolls to the midway point in the next video and says, “Explain this one to me.”

Once again, Kadence’s voice fills the truck cab. I watch the video as she pretends to be completely wrecked about me and Mason. Maybe she was, but I doubt it. I heard how she talked about him when he wasn’t around. The “pretty but stupid hockey-star arm candy.” He’s such a good guy, and she was just in it because she liked how they looked together.

And Mason and I didn’t “all but have sex!” What does that even mean?

That stupid day. I don’t even know how it happened. I just re­member that Mason left a note in my locker: Would you please, please meet me after school (by flagpole)? I really need to talk to you, and it can’t wait. Mason

How could I say no to that? It felt weird to be with him alone, without Kady. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have gone if his note hadn’t sounded so sad or been so sweet.

After the final bell rang, we took a walk on the path that led to the football field, which brought us to the woods. We went inside the F.U. fort. We talked about Kadence, which is why Mason’s kiss took me completely by surprise. I mean, not like I had a ton of experience at the time. As in, none. But still, I never saw it coming.

One moment we were sitting on that ratty old couch in the fort, commiserating about how Kadence was always canceling plans lately, always too busy for us. The next minute Mason was leaning in, and I was frozen in place. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Kiss him back? Push him away? Hope for a case of spontaneous combustion?

When it was over, we both knew it was a terrible mistake. I don’t even know how Kadence found out about it. Not from me, and most definitely not from Mason. That guy loved her so much he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. Maybe she knew that I sometimes fantasized about being with him, or at least having someone like him. Maybe she made her accusation without knowing the truth, and my apology that day in the cafeteria just confirmed her suspicion.

The video continues and Kadence talks about a conversation she had with Jude. My eyes flicker up to him, but his face stays neutral. I get the idea that the conversation didn’t go down exactly like Kady said it did in the video. A part of me hurts to learn that Jude had been talking about me to Kadence.

But all other thoughts are obliterated when the video ends. Kadence is crying so convincingly. It’s her poor, tragic girl act. I’d believe it myself if I hadn’t seen her turn it on and off whenever she needed it, say if she did badly on an exam or had too many tardies. The only time tears were acceptable. But never did I think she’d use that particular talent of hers against me.

Kadence starts talking through her tears. “Lauren seems like a shy, unassuming girl. Like you’d never think she could pull off a lie if she wanted to. But that’s the way she wants to come off. It’s the ultimate mask. She’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and I’m going to confront her about it all. She had the audacity to ask me to play at the coffee shop where she works. As if she hadn’t all but slept with my boyfriend! As if she hadn’t betrayed me deeper than any friend can betray another.”

I can feel the blood draining from my face. How can she say that? How can she do this to me? It’s all lies, but…Oh my God, if this video ever got in the wrong hands…Are Jude’s the wrong hands? I look up at his face. He can’t ever show this to anyone. He can’t.

“Well?” he says.

“I didn’t sleep with Mason. I didn’t ‘all but sleep’ with him either,” I add, quoting Kadence. “I mean”—I take a deep breath—“if you care.”

“So you say.”

“So I say because it’s the truth.” When he doesn’t respond, I groan in frustration. “None of this would be happening if Mason hadn’t put such a sweet note in my locker.”

A strange look clouds Jude’s face, like a mixture of grief and rage. “I guess you’re just a magnet for sweet locker notes.” His tone is sar­castic, and it pisses me off.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, and my voice cracks.

“Are you going to go around telling the whole world that Mason’s a stalker too?”

“What are you talking about?” Jude’s not making any sense, and I’m exhausted with this whole thing.

“Oh, I get it,” he says, his voice full of bitterness. When I leave you a letter saying I wanted our friendship back, I’m a creeper.” He throws up his arms. “But if perfect Mason Sisken leaves you something sweet, you’re all forgiving?”

“Y-You never left me a letter like that,” I sputter. “You sent me a threat. You wrote all kinds of vile things. You were just a kid, but your note scared the shit out of me, Jude.” I lean toward him, my index finger pointed in accusation as I recite the words that are burned on my memory. “‘You bitch! Why are you being such a little cun—’”

“Stop!” Jude cuts me off, looking horrified. “Don’t say that word.” I watch as he goes pale, then paler. And then—too many years too late—I know why. I sit back against the truck seat and stare out the windshield as I try to make sense of it all.

Jude didn’t leave me that horrible note, just like Mason never left me that sweet one and…oh, God, was there a third note too? Mason must have thought I’d asked him to meet me after school. No wonder it was all so awkward at the beginning.

I glance over at Jude. He looks like he’s going to be sick. His hand goes to his hair and his breath falters. “I didn’t write that. Did you even get the phoenix?”

I don’t understand what he’s talking about, but I’m barely listening anymore. Kadence got me with the same trick twice. The realization that I’d been played fills me with dread. “Where did you find her laptop?”

“In the fort,” he says quietly, his eyebrows drawing together.

“In the fort,” I repeat slowly as if it’s a foreign language. How is that possible? “What she’s saying in these videos, Jude. It’s all lies. She tricked me and Mason into going to the fort that day.”

I can practically see the battle raging in his mind. He has to know that I would never lie to him. Not about this. Not about anything.

“Believe me,” I say. “Believe me for the same reason that I believe in you.”

“Do you?” he asks. “I mean, the last time I lived here, you took Kadence’s word over mine.”

“And look where that got me,” I rasp. “I’m sorry for how I treated you in the past. So sorry.”

Jude shifts in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable with my apology, but I continue. “I’ve had to learn a lot of lessons the hard way, but Jude…” I reach out and touch his arm. “I’ve never had to learn the same lesson twice.”

I can tell he wants to trust me, but Kady’s performance in her videos is just that persuasive. Even when she’s caught in a lie, she demands to be believed.

When he doesn’t respond, I ask him what he’s going to do with her laptop. “Are you going to give it to the cops?”

“No. I…” He gulps at the air, then says, “I trust you, Ren.”

“Good,” I say. “Because it’s not just the lies. There’s something else that’s off about these videos.”

“What part?”

I don’t know how to answer him. It’s just…something. “Let me see that again,” I say, taking the laptop from him and setting it back on my knees. I open a third thumbnail and let the video play.

This time Kadence doesn’t look sad. She looks exhausted. But then, like I said, she was always a good actress.

“Lauren was always saying that,” Kadence says to the camera. “Like that made her comments less hurtful if she stuck that on at the beginning.” She makes air quotes. “‘I’m not trying to be mean, but…’ It shocked me at first, but I got used to it and knew that whenever she said that, whatever came next was going to rip my heart out. I’m not trying to be mean, but you were really messing up the melody during the bridge of that song.”

I groan in outrage at the laptop. Who is she kidding? What is this? Am I allowed to be furious with someone who—yes, screwed me and Jude over but nonetheless—is missing? Who might be hurt, or worse…murdered? I haven’t let myself really believe it. Kady is…well…Kady.

Finally it hits. All the confusing emotions I haven’t been able to name—the frustration, the guilt, the unexplainable upset that doesn’t seem to fit with everyone else’s sadness—it’s because I simply didn’t believe that Kadence was hurt at all. At least not in the beginning.

I thought she simply disappeared on one of her camping trips. She was pissed about Mason and me, probably for her pride’s sake more than anything else, so she took off. Yeah, she was gone for longer than normal. But just like she said in one of these stupid videos, she liked being inexplicable.

But then there was all the news coverage, and still no Kady. That’s what was most inexplicable because she would’ve eaten that stuff up. I mean, her dad was on-screen begging for her return. Nothing got to Kady like her dad. And all my confidence about this just being another attention-getting prank started draining away. Even now, I’d rather be furious at her. It’s so much easier to feel rage than—than—

I swallow hard and open the last video. I click Play. I’m not sure if I do it to hear her voice again or to reignite my anger by listening to her accusations. As if that can put off the grief for longer.

Then I suck in my breath. Because that thing I couldn’t put my finger on…it’s there right in front of me. I freeze the frame and stare at the screen, trying desperately to come up with a rational explanation for what I see.

But it’s useless. I keep coming back to only one conclusion. This is not old footage from before Kadence disappeared. It’s new. It’s right there on her face.

Holy crap! Crap, crap, crap. Kadence has made these videos since the last time I saw her. I know because of the small cut by her eye. She’s tried to cover it with makeup, but I can still see it. She got the cut when she turned to say good-bye to me at Cuppa Cuppa that Friday night.

“Abyssinia!” she said as she passed through the doorway, looking back over her shoulder at me, but she misjudged her exit and banged the corner of her eye against the door frame. I had to cover my mouth so not to laugh out loud because, truth be told, I thought it was pretty funny. First she slices up her hand and then she tries to make a really cool exit (Exit, stage left!) and she ends up banging her face, her head snapping back, yelling “Ow!”

Not as smooth as she’d hoped. I’d almost forgotten about it. And now…and now…what is that girl doing? I blink furiously, all my mixed-up emotions from only moments ago disappearing.

She’s out there somewhere, but not held captive in some madman’s basement or dead in the ground. She’s, like, out there…out there and making freakin’ videos and staging this whole thing to ruin my life?

“Lauren?” Jude asks. “Your mind is going a thousand miles per hour. I can practically smell the smoke.”

“It’s nothing,” I croak out, irritated by his interruption. Where could she be? Not in the tree house. I’m sure the police have already checked the places I mentioned to them. Besides, there’s no power out there to connect her laptop. She couldn’t be at anyone’s house because of the risk of getting caught by parents. The empty maintenance shed behind the school football bleachers wouldn’t be good this time of year. She’d camped out there a few times in the past when her parents were driving her crazy, but only during the summer months. There’s too much traffic out by the fields while school is still in session.

But there is the warehouse down by the river.

As far as I know, she never broke in there before, but she’s talked about it. She thought it would be a great set for a music video. It’s been empty for years but maybe she could have found somewhere to plug in. There was a library nearby with free Wi-Fi. Could she have gone there and not been recognized? Doubtful because by now it’s not only her parents’ fliers that have her face plastered all over town. There’s the local news too. Someone would have had to recognize her. She couldn’t just stroll into a library.

“Lauren,” Jude says again, this time more insistent. “What’s going on?”

When I think about Kadence’s attention to detail, the sheer amount of thought that went into her ruse disappearance, I am blown away. The amount of planning it took to hide out for this long would be impressive if it wasn’t so sick. Like diagnosable, get-her-a-straitjacket sick.

And I can’t help but think: When Kadence is found, because she will be found, how will she react? Will she be like a cornered animal? Will she lash out? I can’t imagine Kadence curling up in a fetal position and accepting the backlash. She’ll fight. She’ll claw and bite and spit her way out of the corner.

“I’m going home,” I say. “I need time to think.” I don’t dare tell Jude what I know. I don’t want him to go looking for Kadence. I don’t want him to be involved anymore than he already is. I’ve messed up his life enough already.

Still, it occurs to me that—if I did check out the warehouse—it would be safer to take Jude with me. But then I drop that idea as quickly as it comes. Kadence won’t give up the act if I don’t diffuse the situation first. Bringing Jude would be like throwing gasoline onto a fire.

Jude doesn’t stop me when I get out of his truck.

Ten minutes after leaving Jude’s truck, I am leaving my house again. This time I’m going out the front door—my parents are already in their bedroom watching TV—and this time with a serrated knife stashed in my bag. I don’t mean any violence. It’s against my new constitution. But I’m not an idiot.

Kadence has always been high-strung and unpredictable, especially when she senses a threat. No one can deny me a means of self-defense. I just hope it doesn’t come to that.

Outside, the evening air is cool and full of energy. I don’t work so hard to hide the knife now. I let it slip out of my sleeve, catching the handle in my palm before it drops to the driveway. The streetlight glints off the blade. I shiver, and not because it’s cold as all hell.

I won’t need it, I tell myself. It’s only a precaution.

For a second I think I hear something. Not a car, not a jogger, but…something. But I’m being paranoid. It’s Saturday night and already dark; people in my neighborhood are settled in for the night. I am alone.

I pull the car out of the driveway and head out of the cul-de-sac, taking a left at the road that will take me nearly all the way to the warehouse, which is along the river. I was there once before when Kadence took me along to scout music video locations last summer. We couldn’t get inside, and when I brought up permissions and the permits we’d need to get, Kady just rolled her eyes at me.

It’s only a mile by the way the crow flies, but at least a fifteen-minute drive with the number of stop signs and curvy meanderings this road will take. That’s fine. It gives me a little time to think. It gives me time to come up with a Plan B in case Plan A is, like, capital C catastrophic. Either way, if I’m right and Kadence is at the warehouse, her little hideaway attention-seeking stunt is coming to an end. Tonight.

I’m less than two blocks from home when a car behind me flashes its high beams. It shines in my rearview mirror. Jerk, I think, and adjust the mirror so I’m not totally blinded. A few more turns, a few more stops, and I pull into the convenience-store parking lot that’s across the street from the empty warehouse—a two-story brick building with boarded-up windows.

Tall clumps of grass grow through the cracks in its darkened parking lot, which is dimly lit with a light mounted at each rooftop corner of the building. So I guess the owner has maintained some electrical power.

I should feel some kind of validation. Power means Kady could have made her videos here. But now that I’ve arrived, my confidence begins to wane. What am I supposed to do now that I’m here? Do I go in? It’s hard to picture Kady being in there. I’m even a little embarrassed by how overly dramatic I’ve made this whole thing. What was I thinking, bringing a knife? This seemed like a much better idea an hour ago. In fact, the warehouse gives me a serious case of the creeps. Like horror movie, only-an-idiot-with-a-bad-script-would-go-in-there kind of creeps.

A half hour passes. Maybe more. I check my phone. Okay, it’s been more, and the only thing I’ve seen is a raccoon climbing into a dumpster. Then another fifteen minutes and I still haven’t worked up the courage to go inside.

A homeless person shuffles around the far corner of the building, arms loaded with bags. At first I think it’s a woman because the body moves gracefully, but then I notice the short dark hair and realize it’s just a really skinny man.

I’m about to check my phone again, when the vagrant puts his hand on the warehouse door handle. He turns to look over his shoulder, as if he’s afraid of being followed. It’s the level of wariness that catches my attention.

The second thing I notice is his backpack, and my heart stutters in my chest.

I would know it anywhere because I was the one who picked it out for Kadence before school started this year. It’s turquoise and lime green, the colors she would have painted her room if her parents would have let her. It’s completely recognizable.

That skinny homeless man has Kadence’s backpack! What the hell? Suddenly my thoughts are going a mile a minute. Things that didn’t make sense. Yes, Kadence did like to go strange places to camp. And yeah, she did like publicity. But this would have been excessive, even for her. And there’s another explanation. She could have made those videos the same night she hurt her eye. What if she recorded them after the concert at Cuppa Cuppa, then put them in the F.U. Fort?

Maybe that’s even when she was grabbed. A hundred new scenarios are playing out in my head—all with Kadence as victim instead of as the wicked witch.

I wouldn’t be surprised if I wasn’t the only one she talked to about making a music video here. Or what if she did come out here alone, thinking herself as invincible as always? Something could have easily gone wrong. If someone grabbed her, stole her stuff, hurt her…

Like this man with her backpack. Is she still in the warehouse? Is she still…alive?

I grab the knife that I’d laid down on the seat beside me. My breathing picks up. How quickly my thoughts turn from protecting myself from Kadence to protecting her from this strange man.

Without thinking, I slip the knife up my sleeve and step out of the car.

That’s when Jude appears.

Quickly, so quickly I don’t know what’s happening, he grabs the car keys from my hand and pushes me back inside my car. Just like earlier, he joins me, forcing me to slide over. He slams the door behind himself.

I sit—paralyzed with shock. A glance in my rearview mirror shows his dad’s truck parked at the end of the lot directly behind me. “You followed me.”

“You brought a knife?” he asks without glancing down. He must have felt it when he was shoving me so unceremoniously into the car.

I turn toward the windshield, eyes flicking back to the warehouse. I’ve got to get inside. Kady could be in there. “It’s not what you think,” I say, my voice trembling.