Yesterday in the school office, another student had overheard Savannah’s mom telling my dad about her disappearance. By the time the last bell rang, everyone was talking about Savannah, even people I was sure had no idea who she was. I started asking around, hoping to uncover new information. Maybe someone else at school knew her better, was in touch with her, or was giving her a place to crash. Maybe I could pass on the info to my dad, put his and her mom’s minds to rest.
But no one really knew anything, except Nevaeh. She lived two doors down from the house Savannah shared with her mom and Tim. Nevaeh said that more than once she’d heard an angry man yelling inside the house. Just a man shouting. No one yelling back.
Since Savannah’s home life was bad, it made sense that she had taken off. It even explained why she had lied to me. Someone else must have been in the upper lot, someone she had arranged to wait for her. But there were other possible explanations. Darker ones. Tim could have been lying in wait. And it even turned out that, over the last few months, a couple of girls had thought a slow-moving car was tailing them for a few blocks. One I’d heard about before, the other was news to me.
Last night, I’d lain awake until four in the morning, replaying my last conversation with Savannah, looking for clues.
This morning, I biked back to our dojo and locked my bike to a street sign. On foot, I started where I had last seen Savannah Thursday night. On the concrete steps that led up to the upper parking lot.
It had been less than forty hours since she had turned to look back at me from these very steps.
Then she had gotten to the top, turned the corner, and gone—where? And why would she have gone someplace without her phone? She had definitely lied about her mom waiting for her. Did she have a friend outside of school? Or even a secret boyfriend? But if she did, why had it felt like she’d almost said yes to the idea of going to the winter formal with me?
Nevaeh had given me Savannah’s home address. My plan was to retrace Savannah’s steps, or at least my best guess of what they would have been, and look for clues. And once I got to her house, what then? I remembered how some dark emotion had flickered over her face when she talked about Tim. It was somehow worse that he wasn’t even her official stepdad, just her mom’s boyfriend. According to my dad, he had already admitted to Savannah’s mom that he had argued with her. Could he have hurt her? At the thought, my hands balled into fists.
What would I do if I saw him coming out of the house? Or what about simply knocking on the door and demanding answers? My dad would get mad if I confronted Tim. But I wasn’t sure I could leave him alone.
At the top of the steps, I turned and looked back. The corner of the building blocked me from seeing the spot where I had been Thursday night. Which meant that even if I had hung around, I wouldn’t have been able to see what happened to Savannah once she reached the top. But I hadn’t been looking, had I? I had believed her when she said her mom was giving her a ride home.
And if she had lied about that, maybe she had lied about other things, the way Dad had implied.
Lost in thought, I cut through the parking lot.
But something nagged at me. Something out of place. Finally, I stopped, turned, and scanned the lot, which held a half dozen cars.
Nothing jumped out at me. I was already turning back, already rehearsing what I would say to that jerk Tim if I saw him, when I spotted it.
A gray beanie, tangled low in the blackberry bushes at the back of the lot.
My stomach bottomed out. No, I thought. No, please, God, I’m not seeing this.
I walked over. With a shaking hand, I reached out and pulled the hat free from the brambles. Dark strands of hair clung to it. Long dark hair, just like Savannah’s. In one spot, about a dozen hairs were clustered together.
As if they had been pulled out during a struggle.
In my mind’s eye, I replayed standing outside with Savannah after class. The way she looked at me as she pulled on her hat.
This hat.
Something bad had happened here.
And I hadn’t heard a thing.