Early the next morning Anthony’s phone rang, making Lu jump. Cassie’s name showed up on the screen. Lu waited a fraction of a second, unsure if she should answer or not. But the alternative was waking up drunk Anthony. She had to answer.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice. “I need Anthony.”
“I’m sorry,” said Lu. “He’s sleeping.”
“He’s sleeping?”
“He, ah . . . wasn’t feeling well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Cassie. The sarcasm dripped from her words like sauce off barbecued ribs.
“But you can pass any message to me, and I’ll give it to him,” Lu said hastily. She had slid a pillow under Anthony’s head and his cheek was squished against it. He was drooling.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Lu. I’m his friend.”
“Anthony doesn’t have friends who are girls.” That seemed like a rule that must be of Cassie’s making, not Anthony’s. Anthony was quite a good friend.
“He does now,” said Lu.
“If he cares,” said Cassie, “please tell him the police found a note.”
“Of course he cares,” snapped Lu. “What did the note say? I mean, if you want me to pass on the message.”
Cassie sighed. “It said, Don’t worry, we went on a little trip.”
“A little trip!” said Lu. “That seems innocuous enough. What a relief. So we don’t need to worry anymore?”
“You never needed to worry, Lu-whoever-you-are,” said Cassie. “Because this doesn’t concern you.”