Vanished (20 page)

“Mom would make you whatever you wanted.”

“That's because I'm her favorite son,” Nadir fired back.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Wake up, little sister: you're supposed to point out I'm her only son.”

I managed a small fake laugh and hung up.

Did I really think Brit would hurt me? Not hurt,
kill
.

Killing Beth over Jason was a crime of passion and betrayal. If she came after me it would be about covering her ass.

I wanted to believe Britney wouldn't go that far. But it felt like I'd been warned.

You know it isn't a good day when there's a cop at your
doorstep. Even if you're the one who invited her.

“Hi,” Officer Siegel said. She had on jeans and a crisp white blouse. She must have been off the clock.

“Thanks for coming.” I stepped back so she could come in.

“Hard to take a pass with all that mystery.”

“I didn't want to explain everything on the phone. I thought this would be easier.”

“Who's here?” Mom came around the corner, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She smiled at our guest.

“This is Officer Siegel. She's the liaison officer from my school.”

My mom's smile tightened and she shot me a quick look before reaching out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I'm Amina.”

“Alex,” Officer Siegel replied. I don't know why I was surprised she had a first name. “Kalah invited me.”

They both looked at me. “I want to talk to all of you.”

“Well, then let's go into the living room. I'll get Kalah's dad. Can I make some tea, maybe coffee?” My mom had gone into hostess mode.

“No, thank you.”

“All right. Then we'll join you in a minute.” She walked away.

I led Officer Siegel into our living room. She peered at the display of family photos.

“Officer Siegel?” My dad strode in, my mom trailing behind. She was still holding the kitchen towel. “I'm Scott.”

They shook hands. My parents both sat on the sofa and Officer Siegel took the leather club chair. I kept standing. They all stared at me.

I took a deep breath. I'd written down what I wanted to say in a bullet-point list to make sure I came across as rational as possible. I'd even practiced in front of the bathroom mirror. I felt the list in my pocket ready to be pulled out if needed. “I've gotten myself in a situation and I need help.”

“Maybe you should talk to your parents first,” Officer Siegel said, holding up her palms as if to stop what I was going to say. “I'm not here in any kind of official capacity, but I wouldn't want to blur any lines.”

Did she think I was going to confess a crime? I saw my mom reach for my dad's hand. She looked pale.

“There are no lines to be blurred,” I said. “This isn't about me, at least not directly. It's about Britney and Beth. I've uncovered what really happened and I think I'm in danger.” I cleared my throat. I had to come across as more confident and calm. “I'm
sure
I'm in danger.”

“Kalah,” my dad said, his voice resigned.

“Someone broke into the house earlier today. They were in my room.” I threw the words down like a gauntlet. Officer Siegel leaned forward. I had her attention now.

My parents exchanged a glance. “Honey, is this about your panic attack?” Mom asked. “Zach called me.”

“He's worried about you,” Dad added.

“Panic attack?” Officer Siegel asked.

“Kalah has some challenges with anxiety,” my mom said.

“I had an attack because I realized she'd been here,” I said. “She broke in and rearranged things in my room. It was a threat. She wanted me to know, to put me on guard that she could get to me.”

“Beth broke in?” Officer Siegel asked, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Are you saying you think Beth did something to Britney?”

“No, Britney did. Let me explain,” I said.

“Oh, honey,” my mom said. Her voice was so sad. Officer Siegel looked away, almost embarrassed.

“I'll check the alarm. Maybe we can clear this right up.”
Dad got up and went to the kitchen.

“After you left for school I put some laundry in your room,” my mom said. “I'm sure I moved some things. I remember tilting your blinds for a bit more light.”

“It wasn't just that,” I said, but suddenly I was uneasy. Had I been mistaken?

Dad was back a second later. “There's no record that the alarm went off.”

I pushed aside frustration and dropped into a chair. I had to stay calm. “We all knew the codes to each other's houses. She wouldn't have set off the alarm.”

“Kalah, the alarm records any time anyone comes in and out of the house. After your mom set it this morning, the next time anyone came into the house was at three. That would have been you.” Dad's voice was even, but I could see the tension in his face.

“It's not just the alarm. I've been getting messages.”

My mom's eyes filled with tears. It wasn't the reaction I'd expected. Dad's face was neutral, but he was gripping my mom's hand.

I could feel panic burbling up, like bubbles in a boiling pot. I had to get back to my bullet-point list.

“Kalah, I'm not sure you're seeing this situation objectively,” Dad said gently. “It's understandable. You've been through a lot.”

Officer Siegel nodded and I felt the panic increase. She didn't believe me either. I'd lost her before I even got started.

“I see the situation fine. You need to listen to me,” I said. “There's been a crime.”

Mom stood and I could see the effort she was making to pull herself together. “I'm sorry you came all the way out here, Officer Siegel. I think Kalah's concerns are something we should explore as a family, and with her doctor. If there's anything we need to share with the police, I can assure you we'll do that.”

Officer Siegel stood too. “Of course.” She squeezed my shoulder as she passed me. “I'll see you at school.”

My dad and I didn't say anything while we waited for Mom to return. I felt tracks of hot tears cutting down my face.

When Mom came in she sat on the ottoman right next to my chair. She took both my hands in hers. “We're going to help you through this.”

I shook my head. “You don't believe me. You think I'm crazy.” Bitterness soured my voice.

Dad came over. “It's not that we don't believe that this feels real for you.”

“It feels real because it
is
real,” I said.

“Honey, sometimes you see things that aren't there,” Mom said, her voice soft.

I sucked in a breath. No matter how softly she said it, it was still a low blow. “This was nothing like that. I'm not crazy.”

“I said that the wrong way. I'm not saying you're
hallucinating. You're not. I'm saying you're sensitive. You always have been. You might have misread the situation. Misunderstood motivations. Then you started to fill in the missing information with a worst-case scenario and suddenly it's overwhelming.”

“It's not like that,” I said.

“You lost your two best friends,” Mom said. “Of course you're grieving. And grief can make even the most healthy, stable mind do wild things. The heart too.”

“We'll make you an appointment with Dr. Sherman,” Dad said. “And we'll keep talking together. We're glad you told us.”

I stood. I should have known I'd never be free of my past.

At my old school there had been a girl in my class who I'd thought was my friend. But being Madison's friend was like pledging a sorority. She put me through test after test—hazing me, really—to make me prove how much I wanted to be near her. And when I'd passed all the tests, she'd laughed in my face and humiliated me in front of everyone.

I wasn't her friend; I was her puppet. And when she pulled all my strings, they'd snapped.

That's when I'd started having panic attacks, needing to count things, and tapping to feel calm. It got so bad, my parents noticed, and sent me to see Dr. Sherman. In the end, my parents and Dr. Sherman made the decision to have me change schools so I could have a fresh start. But a fresh start
didn't mean they believed I was stable.

I needed proof.

“Hey.” My dad caught my elbow and made me turn around. “Whatever's happening, I want to make sure you know this. Your mom and I love you. We will always be here for you. We supported you before, and we'll support you now.”

I nodded and they both hugged me. “I love you guys too,” I said.

I could feel them staring at my back as I went upstairs. They loved me, but they didn't believe me. Just like before. They never saw me as bullied. They believed the school administrator, who'd made it sound like I'd stalked Madison, made a whole relationship up in my head, and done crazy things to get her attention. That I'd basically chased her down, stuck to her side. Been a groupie until she'd been forced to be mean to get rid of me.

It wasn't like that. That hadn't been a figment of my imagination. And this wasn't either.

Trying to act normal was exhausting. My parents kept
me home from school and I spent all day pretending to be regular, everyday Kalah. Every word felt practiced and scripted before it left my mouth. I talked about getting back to field hockey. How I would feel better when I got back to my routine.

My parents visibly relaxed as the day went on. It wasn't that they were stupid; it was that they wanted to believe I was going to be all right. They were willing to suspend disbelief because cooperating with my lie was easier than dealing with the truth. Just because they wanted to believe I was okay, that didn't mean it would be easy for me. I was going to have to keep up this charade for days, maybe weeks.
If I made too much of a change too quickly, they would be suspicious. That's why I snapped at my dad over lunch when he finished all the deli turkey, and stormed upstairs to my room. Let them think I was still high-strung.

I hadn't slept much the night before. Sleep was becoming an elusive luxury. One I fantasized about, but nothing I hoped to actually obtain. I'd lain in bed and wanted to work up a rage at my parents for not believing me, but if I was objective, I couldn't blame them. All I had was a story. A bizarre story. If I heard it from someone else I wouldn't have believed it either.

I had to find proof that Brit was still alive. Something that would make people listen. To actually hear me. Even once the DNA tests proved the body was Beth's, that didn't mean they'd believe me that Brit wasn't also dead. I had to lure her back.

I sent her a message.
You free for a talk? I had a huge fight with my parents. Could really use a friend
.

As soon as she replied, I would print out the message. I thought about changing my password, but if Britney wasn't already suspicious of what I knew, she would be if I did that. I had to act normal. I had to act like things were fine.

I glanced at the clock and wondered if I should send another message to say it was urgent. We were heading out for dinner soon. It was Dad's idea. My mom wasn't a total vegetarian—she'd eat the occasional bite of chicken or fish, but our house was a no-red-meat zone. If my dad wanted to
fulfill his cravings for steak, he had to do it at a restaurant. I wouldn't be able to check my phone while out with them. I'd be too busy playing my starring role: happy, healthy daughter at loving family dinner.

I checked the online news feeds. I was turning into an addict looking for a hit, bracing for news that Beth's body had been officially identified. Maybe when that happened they'd start searching for Britney. But most likely, when the news hit, Brit would just vanish.

I had to hunt her down before that.

I rooted through my bag and found the business card the reporter, Derek, had given me. I flicked the edge with my fingernail. The first time I'd met him outside the school, he'd hinted how he wasn't crazy about popular girls. He'd wanted dirt on Brit.

I put his name into the search bar. He was a freelance writer. His articles appeared mostly in local papers around the state, but he had at least a few in national magazines. His bio at the end of the articles described him as an investigative reporter.

“Five minutes! Or we'll be late for our reservation,” Dad yelled from downstairs.

I flicked the card. Maybe I didn't need to find Brit myself. Maybe Derek would do it. All he needed was a nudge in the right direction. This was his job. He was a trained professional.

My foot was tapping. I stopped it. I should think it
through before pulling him in. Except there wasn't much time. They'd know about the body any second now. After that, Britney would disappear.

I picked up my phone and put it down. Derek would have caller ID. This had to be anonymous.

I quickly set up a new email account and typed in the address from his card.

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

RE: Matson Story

You have questions about Britney and you're right to have them. Things aren't what they seem. Ask yourself, if she weren't dead, where would she be?

I read over the email and hit
SEND
. If he took it to the police they could likely trace it back to me, but I didn't think Derek would do that. I didn't out-and-out accuse her of anything. My goal was to make him curious.

Curious enough to do some poking around and find the story of the century.

“Let's go, people,” Dad shouted. “I hear a cow calling my name.”

I yanked off the sweater I'd worn all day and pulled on a different one. Clean was as good as it was going to get. I put on some lip gloss and headed downstairs. I wasn't even
remotely hungry, but I was going to have to pretend.

“Looking foxy,” Dad said as I came into the kitchen.

“No one says
foxy
, Dad.”

“Really? That's a shame.” He whistled when my mom came down the stairs. She winked at him.

My cell rang just as Dad grabbed his car keys off the counter.

“Ignore it,” Mom said, but I'd already picked it up. I had this irrational fear that it was going to be Derek, who'd somehow figured out the email was from me. The caller ID said unknown.

“Hello,” I said.

“Kalah?”

My heart stopped in my chest. My ears filled with a loud buzzing sound.

“Kah-bear? Is that you? I'm ready to come home now.”

Britney was back.