73. Running

Nobody knows. Nobody’s got a clue. That’s the toughest part, at least to me. I want at least a handful of people to have an idea. To have some kind of knowledge.

About me.

Jocelyn started to, and that’s the worst part of this.

That the very one person, the single soul that I was opening up to, now has to be the person I walk past in these hallways. The person who glances with resentment. The person who becomes a stranger like the rest of them. Like the rest of the nameless, faceless, careless fools I’m stuck around.

The rest of the week blurs by as November turns to December. Twice Jocelyn gives me letters, but I reject them. I feel like a parent grabbing a child’s arm and hurting him to avoid his running into the path of an oncoming car.

I don’t want to hurt Jocelyn, but I don’t know what else to do.

If Stuart and Lucy and Harold all disappeared around Christmas, I only have a few weeks to find out what’s going on. To try to make some sense of it and then to tell somebody who can do something about it.

I keep thinking of Sheriff Wells, of the card he gave me with his cell number on it.

Anything funny happens—anything—you call me, okay?

Being knocked unconscious and bound and gagged only to awaken in the bottom of a hole in the middle of the woods—yeah, that’s pretty funny.

Funny as in hellish.

I know that Jocelyn won’t say anything. And I can’t break her trust, either.

Yet if what she says is true …

So I keep low and stay out of everybody’s hair and try to figure out what to do next.

I just wish I had a clue.

I think I can trust Sheriff Wells.

I just need to gather more information to show him.

Time is running out on me.

More importantly, it’s running out on Jocelyn.

On Thursday it seems that someone else feels the same way.

I find a note in my locker, like the others, folded and taped to the inside.

I half expect it to be from Jocelyn and am sad that it’s not.

It’s short and simple.

Start at the top. But be careful.

A friend

I want to meet this friend, since it’s obvious I have so few.

It takes me a while to figure out what the letter means.

Start at the top.

Who controls most of this town? Who is the head honcho around here?

Staunch.

Start with him.

But start by doing what?

He’s right down the road, and you’ve already managed to spy on him once.

I’ll start with him. And I’ll start tonight.