Thirty-Three

Lauren

The Warehouse Parking Lot

Saturday, April 7

9:17 p.m.

My feet pound against the pavement and the whole time I’m thinking, Why do I keep doing this? Why am I such an idiot? First falling for Kadence’s bullshit and now Jude’s. A moment ago, he was looking at me with so much sorrow and regret that it nearly broke my heart. I totally bought it!

But it was just another lie. Or…was it? Despite the flicker of doubt, I don’t slow my steps.

Jude said he didn’t mean for everything to happen, but he still meant for me to get food poisoning! My voice is still ruined!

Even if it was just a…What did he call it? A “stupid split-second decision,” he’s still a liar. His voice echoes in my head: I wanted revenge.

A tremor of fear ripples through me, and I keep running.

I thought I’d finally figured out who to trust, but I’ve had it all backwards. I’m no better at reading people or situations than I ever was. I don’t know where I’m going, only that I need to get away from Jude. I can’t trust him. He seemed so sincere back in the truck, but there’s no more room for mistakes. I’ve spent the last four years side by side with the best actress around. What if Jude’s just more of the same?

My feet pound against the pavement, sounding like slap, slap, slap. Oh my God, what if Jude did have something to do with Kady’s disappearance and he’s working with the man inside the warehouse who had Kady’s backpack? I feel like I’m losing my mind.

My breaths come in even quicker pants as I duck behind a brick building, then glance around frantically to make sure I haven’t trapped myself in some dead-end alleyway. I’m at least two blocks away now, and I stop to catch my breath.

There aren’t any footsteps behind me. Did I really lose Jude, or is he still out there looking for me? If he is, how am I supposed to get back to the warehouse?

I shiver, even though I’m sweating under my jacket. I squeeze my eyes tight and let the tears run down my cheeks. My palms press against the damp brick. My fingernails dig into the rough facade. I need to go back. I still need to go into that warehouse, but I know now that I can’t do it alone.

I should call the cops. I should call my parents! I dial Mom’s number but it goes to voice mail. JJ! He always has his phone on him. I’m about to dial again when my fingers freeze over the keypad.

But what if I’m wrong about all of this? I’ve been wrong before. Maybe that skinny guy found Kady’s backpack somewhere. Crap. I can’t keep a coherent thought in my head. If I call the cops, or even JJ or my parents (who will call the cops), I’d be putting myself and Jude back in the middle of the storm again. Jude was just let out of jail. Despite everything he confessed, do I do that to him again?

All this time, I’ve been swearing that I’m not the girl I used to be. I can think independently. I don’t judge people. Or…at least I don’t jump to conclusions without giving people a chance. I’m all about healthy living, for God’s sake! I’m scared. Maybe even scared of him. But that moment of self-doubt has me changing my plans. I don’t call the cops. I don’t call my parents again, or JJ. I call Mason.

“Lauren?”

“Mason,” I say, still short of breath.

“Lauren, are you all right?”

“I-I might have f-found Kadence.”

“What?” he asks, his tone as confused as I feel. “Where are you? Is she all right?”

“I don’t know.” I’m crying now. “Mason? Mason, can you come get me?”

“Lauren, you’re freaking me out. Did you say you found Kadence?”

“Can you please come?” My hand shoots inside my jacket pocket, and I’m relieved to find that the knife is still there.

“Shit, Lauren, where are you? Should I call 911?”

“Three blocks north of the Kwik Trip. On Cherry Street. Over by the river. Just you though, Mason. No cops.”

“We have to call the cops.”

“Please. If I’m right, I promise we’ll call them right away, but if I’m wrong it’ll make things worse. They’ll start questioning me again. I can’t handle that. Please, Mason.”

He swears under his breath because he knows I’m right. “Fine, Lauren. If you’re sure. No cops. Not yet anyway. How do I find you?”

“Text me when you’re close to the Kwik Trip.”

“I’m already in my car,” Mason says, his voice soothing, but I can hear the tension behind his words. “Ten minutes. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

But it’s fifteen minutes by the time Mason’s text comes through, saying that he’s close. It’s so dark that I’m at the passenger door before Mason even sees me. He gives a little jump, then he unlocks the door and I slip inside.

There are food bags and candy wrappers on the floor. I know him well enough that in any other circumstance he’d be apologizing for the mess—he hates it when his friends leave their garbage in his truck—but now is not the time for apologies. Both of us are freaking out. The thought of someone having Kady, hurting her…I hope Jude got frustrated and took off.

“Where is she?” Mason asks immediately.

“I don’t know for sure, but I think the old warehouse,” I rasp, my voice even rougher than usual from crying.

Mason doesn’t react. He just drives to the empty lot and throws his truck in park. We don’t bother to be inconspicuous. Jude’s truck is gone.

“I think we can get in over there,” I say, indicating the door. Mason grabs me by the hand and drags me at a run toward the door. There is a small crack where it didn’t latch properly and we step inside. It’s dark and we both pull out our phones to use as makeshift flashlights.

With my other hand, I wrap my fingers around the handle of the knife.

What I can see of the floors are nasty, so I try not to look too closely. It stinks in here, like pee and sour garbage and I don’t know what else. Broken crates and other trash are stacked high against some of the walls and in the corners. Mason puts his finger to his lips as we listen for any sound of movement. After a few moments there is a soft shuffle. A foot in the dust, a turn of a page, a bird’s wings.

Mason beckons me to follow him. He doesn’t make any comment on the fact that I have a kitchen knife clenched in my hand. Maybe he thinks I’m more capable of using it against someone than he is. He’s probably right. Mason has never been anything but sweet. Even as hockey players go, he always plays a clean game.

The warehouse is divided into several large rooms with wide doorways. We peek around each door frame before stepping into the next room. I expect to hear a man’s voice. I hope to hear Kadence. But besides the soft scrape of movement, it’s quiet. It could be raccoons. Or pigeons in the rafters.

But as we step from the third room and into the fourth, we both freeze in our tracks. There is a small light in this room, illuminating the man I saw before. He’s in the corner, lounging in a nylon camping chair and flipping through a magazine. Two full garbage bags sit beside the chair, though they seem too soft and round to be filled with garbage.

“Kadence?” Mason asks, testing out the name. I glance at him, not understanding.

The man shrieks, hands going to his head. He swings around with his back to us and a second later pulls off what I then realize is a wig. Revealing pinned-up magenta hair.

It’s Kadence.

She hastily pulls out the pins, then combs her hands through her long hair, trying to fluff it out. It’s oily from being underneath the wig and the apparent lack of shower facilities, but otherwise she looks fine. Perfectly healthy. Safe.

This I find to be annoying. But I can only watch with stunned fascination as she grabs lipstick and a compact from her pocket and tries to make herself look presentable. Presentation is everything. Another one of her quotable quotes. She had one for every occasion. And what exactly will she say on this occasion? How will she try to explain this one away? I wait for it.

Lips coated cherry red, she puts the lipstick back in her pocket and clears her throat.

“Miss me?” she asks with a Cheshire smile.