Where I Left Her Page 8

  “Whit?”

  She spun around to face Natalie. “Yeah?”

  “So, Kayla asked around. And none of her friends knew the guy’s name that Amelia was with. But her friend that took the picture is going to ask around too. Someone must’ve invited him to the party, so she’s bound to find out something. She did say, though, that she overheard him talking, kinda bragging, I guess about...” She paused, swallowing. Whitney stepped closer. “Like how he could score drugs for them, and also something about being kicked out of his last school. She wasn’t sure for what.”

  “Sounds like a winner,” Whitney muttered under her breath. What was her daughter doing with a guy like that? Then again, it didn’t sound like Whitney’s radar was working very well either. Exhaling, she glanced around. Her head was spinning from all the information she’d received in the last few minutes. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “God, I just don’t understand any of this. I have no idea what to think right now.” Her gaze flickered to the stairs they’d just come down. “Jay seemed like such a genuine guy.”

  Natalie’s shoulders softened, her lips lowering and her eyes crinkling in concern. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you think he’s the older guy Becca was talking about?”

  Natalie bit her lip. “I mean, has he ever acted weird around her?”

  The first time Jay came over was to pick Whitney up for a date. Whitney had been running late, on the last touches of her makeup, when she heard the knock on the door. Hollering down the hall, she asked if Amelia could answer.

  While swiping on some lip gloss, Whitney heard Amelia and Jay talking in the family room. She should’ve paid more attention to what was being said, but she was more fixated on how she looked. It sounded like nothing more than small talk, but she couldn’t be sure.

  The second time he picked her up, Whitney had been ready early. Amelia came out of her room as they were leaving. All she said was goodbye and have fun or something like that. Whitney tried to remember if Jay acted oddly, stared at Amelia too long. Anything to indicate he was interested in her. But she came up empty.

  Jay had always seemed focused on Whitney.

  Even their conversations about Amelia revolved around him wanting more time with Whitney. Nothing to indicate he was up to anything shady regarding her daughter. The occasional times he’d been around Amelia their conversations were hi, bye. Nice to see you. Have a good afternoon. The kind of exchange she had in grocery stores with acquaintances.

  “Not that I can recall,” Whitney said now.

  “Then I think our best bet is finding the guy in the picture,” Natalie said. “I mean, she was here with him, not Jay. And, actually, Jay doesn’t technically live here.”

  “I know. Seriously, what’s that about?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Natalie shook her head. “But I feel like you’re grasping at straws here. I honestly don’t think Jay has anything to do with Amelia. She may have been chatting with some older guy online, but it seems like a stretch to think it’s Jay.”

  Her words seemed logical. But Natalie hardly knew Jay. She’d only met him a couple of times. Why was she so quick to defend him? Thinking back, Whitney realized that she’d met Jay while waiting for Natalie at a restaurant. And it was Natalie who ultimately talked her into going on their first date.

  “Are you excited about your big date tonight?” Natalie came toward Whitney, wiggling her shoulders, a smile stretching across her face. They were at the warehouse, going through inventory. It was cold and drafty, and smelled like damp wood.

  Whitney pulled her sweater tighter around her body. “Actually, I think I’m going to cancel.”

  “What?” Natalie’s head whipped in her direction. The shirt she’d been holding fluttered to the ground. “Why?”

  Whitney’s fingers wove around the fuzzy fabric of a nearby sweater. She nervously rolled it between her fingertips. In the distance she heard tires on asphalt, the breeze whisking over the outer walls of the warehouse. A chill brushed down her back. “I don’t know. I just feel like it’s not a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Natalie picked the shirt back up and added it to her pile.

  Natalie would never understand. She’d married her high school sweetheart more than twenty years ago. She had no idea what the dating world was like. Or the issues a single mom faced while dating.

  “I don’t know...I mean, I don’t know anything about this guy. I even googled him and couldn’t find anything, but a private Facebook page.”

  “Well, he’s not famous, is he?”

  “Clearly not.” Whitney chuckled. “It’s just usually when I date a guy it’s someone I already know. This guy sorta came out of nowhere.”

  “Uh-oh. Have you been watching crime dramas again?”

  Natalie always teased Whitney about her overactive imagination, telling her she needed to stick to watching comedies or romances, not scary shows.

  Whitney laughed, cocked a brow. “Maybe.”

  “That night you met Jay, you could not stop smiling. The whole dinner all you did was talk about how hot he was, and how nice he was,” Natalie reminded her. “I think you should go for it. But if you’re really worried, I can come hang out in the restaurant, keep an eye on you.”

  “Like as my bodyguard?”

  Natalie laughed. “Incognito, of course.”

  Whitney pictured Natalie in sunglasses and a black hat, sitting at the bar, watching them on their date. Laughing along, she shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine.”

  She looked at her friend. Wondered. Was Natalie behind her meeting Jay? Had she known him before?

  “I think it’s time to call the police, Whit,” Natalie said.

  Whitney glanced at her watch, reading the time. “Don’t you have to wait twenty-four hours to report someone missing?”

  “I’ve heard that, but I’m pretty sure it’s a myth.”

  Whitney’s mouth dried out. The idea of calling the police made this seem too real, as if she was admitting that something terrible had happened. She wasn’t ready to do that. Surely, Amelia hadn’t taken off or met with foul play. She’d be back soon, right? “First, I need to talk to Becca again. I get the feeling she knows more than she’s sharing.”

  “Has she called back yet?” Natalie asked.

  Taking out her phone, she checked her messages. Nothing.

  “No.”

  “Call her then. Find out what she knows and then we’ll take it from there.”

  Nodding, Whitney turned away from Natalie. She was grateful her friend couldn’t read her thoughts. How could she ever think Natalie would manipulate her? And for what purpose? Natalie was as genuine as they came. But old habits die hard. And Whitney wasn’t used to trusting people. But Natalie had never given her any reason not to.

  As the phone rang, she stared into the soothing, turquoise water of the pool.

  11

  FIVE WEEKS

  BEFORE DROP-OFF

  THE EMAIL CAME in the early afternoon. It was from Amelia’s principal. A kid had come to school that morning with a knife. He’d been detained, his weapon confiscated. The school felt confident the threat had been taken care of.

  Whitney wasn’t so sure.

  Images from news reports she’d watched over the years of kids running from their schools, hands over their heads, played like a montage in her mind.

  Her skin crawled. Her body buzzed.

  She was at the warehouse, shooting photos, but she couldn’t concentrate. Amelia only had a couple hours left in her school day, and she was getting good grades. What would it hurt to skip out a little early? Besides, they’d hardly spent any time together lately.

  Abandoning work, she drove to the high school. It wasn’t far from the warehouse. Only about fifteen minutes. After parking, she made her way into the office and headed toward the attendance clerk.
The scent of paper, pencil shavings and musty carpet brought her back to when she was in high school.

  Mrs. Pruitt glanced up, frowning. “Ms. Carter?” She said it like a question. Like she was surprised to see her.

  “Hi, Mrs. Pruitt,” Whitney said. “I need to pull Amelia out of class, please.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “But...Amelia’s not here.”

  Heat snaked up Whitney’s back. “What do you mean?”

  “She never came to school today.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Mrs. Pruitt drew her lips to one side as if in thought. Then she typed something on her keyboard, her gaze scanning her computer screen. “Yep. She hasn’t been to any of her classes. You called her out sick this morning.”

  Whitney’s head spun. She thought back to this morning. It had been hectic. She’d overslept and then her favorite pants were dirty, so she had to figure out something else to wear. Usually, on the mornings when Amelia had to take the bus, Whitney would peek in on her before leaving. But she’d been running late for an early morning meeting. She hadn’t even had time to grab breakfast before tearing out the front door.

  But she was positive she didn’t call Amelia out.

  “I gotta go.” Whitney whirled around and hurried out of the building.

  As she headed out into the parking lot, she remembered Amelia complaining about a sore throat last night. Amelia probably stayed home because she wasn’t feeling well. But did she call herself out? In an effort to ease her mind, Whitney pulled up the Find My Friends app after sliding into the driver’s seat. It took a couple of minutes to locate Amelia. She was at a park a couple of miles away. So, she wasn’t at home sick, then. What would she be doing at a park in the middle of the day?

  “Here. Your turn.” An arm outstretched. A joint burning between two fingers.

  Whitney taking hold of it, bringing it to her lips. Allowing the smoke to fill her mouth, her lungs.

  Her tires squealed when she raced out of the school parking lot. A couple of teachers stood near the sidewalk talking. Their heads jolted in Whitney’s direction. Her face flushed, as she eased her foot slightly off the gas.

  When she pulled into the park, it was filled with parents and little kids. As she walked through the damp grass, green blades sticking to the soles of her shoes, she remembered taking Amelia to the park all the time when she was younger. Her favorite thing in the world was being pushed on the swing. Often, Whitney would beg Amelia to run around or go down the slide. Anything to give her achy arms a break. But no, Amelia would insist on the swing, screaming and crying until Whitney gave in. Whitney’s arms would be all numb and jellylike by the time they left.

  What she wouldn’t give to go back in time now, though.

  She wouldn’t complain about pushing her in the swing. Not for one second. She’d push her until her arms no longer worked. Until she fell over from exhaustion.

  “What do you want to do, Amelia?” Whitney asked, while three-year-old Amelia tugged on her arm, pulling her toward the playground.

  “Swings.” Amelia pointed, her chubby cheeks squishing upward as she smiled, her pigtails bouncing with each boisterous step.

  Whitney didn’t know why she’d even bothered asking. Amelia never said anything different. But a mom could dream.

  They hit the edge of the playground when Amelia stopped abruptly, her face stern.

  “My swing,” she said under her breath, pointing.

  Following her gaze, Whitney saw a little boy around Amelia’s same age sitting on the swing she usually occupied, spinning around in circles, the metal chain coiling around him. A little girl was being pushed by her mom on the neighboring swing.

  “That’s all right,” Whitney said in a singsong, overly cheery voice. “We’ll just go on the slide until they’re finished. That will be fun, right?”

  “No.” Amelia stepped forward, stomping over the bark in her pink tennis shoes. “Mine,” she hollered at the boy, and before Whitney could stop her, she’d slammed her palms into his knees trying to shove him off the swing. He was so wrapped up in the swing, he barely moved. “Mine!” Amelia hollered again.

  Whitney ran after her, grabbing her by the hand. “Amelia, stop it. You can’t behave that way.” If Whitney had acted like this at her age, she would’ve gotten a spanking. But Whitney couldn’t bring herself to spank Amelia. Time-outs were about as far as she went. Mostly she found that keeping Amelia close kept her out of trouble. Holding tightly to her hand, she led her to the slide.

  “I don’t wanna slide. I want swings!” Amelia stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

  Whitney lowered down onto her knees, looked her daughter in the eyes. “I know, honey, but someone else is on it right now, and we have to share.”

  Amelia turned to look at the swing-stealing boy, throwing him her best evil face. Despite herself, Whitney’s lips twitched at the corners. It was hard for Amelia to grasp the concept of sharing since she didn’t have a sibling. Sometimes Whitney wondered if she and Dan should try again, but never brought it up. Their marriage was rocky enough. Another child wouldn’t fix it. Besides, Amelia was enough for her.

  She was all Whitney needed.

  Passing by the playground, Whitney scanned the large grassy area. Where would a teenage girl be? Her gaze connected with the bathrooms, and she walked toward them. Hushed voices reached her ears the closer she got.

  “Amelia?” Whitney stopped abruptly before running right into a little boy with his mom. The mom’s forehead knit together as she drew her child closer to her body.

  “Sorry,” Whitney mumbled. “I’m just looking for my daughter.”

  “Oh.” The mom’s eyes widened, and she relaxed her grip on the boy. Her gaze darted around. “I haven’t seen anyone. Want me to help you look?”

  Whitney shook her head, spotting a cluster of trees near the back of the park. Two teenagers barely visible behind it.

  Lazily, she stared up at the sky through the branches. Leaves fluttered in the breeze. Fingers tangled through hers. The earth seemed to spin beneath her as if she was floating above it all, her head high up in the clouds, among the birds and planes.

  “It’s okay. I think I found her. Thanks.” Whitney moved swiftly past them.

  The scent of cigarette smoke reached her before she even got to the trees. A guy laughed, coughed. A girl giggled. Angrily, Whitney stormed up to them. Their backs were to her. His arm was draped around her shoulder and plumes of smoke rose from their heads.

  “Amelia!” Whitney snapped.

  She turned, mouth agape. Only it wasn’t Amelia.

  “What the hell?” the girl said.

  The boy peered over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

  Sighing, Whitney whirled around, gaze taking in the park once again. Where could she be?

  Stepping away from the young couple, Whitney pulled out her phone and clicked on the Find My Friends app again. This time it showed Amelia at home.

  When Whitney got to their apartment, she went straight to Amelia’s room. Her door was closed, so she knocked softly. No response. Whitney opened the door. The room was empty.

  “Amelia!” she called out.

  Huh.

  She checked the location app again, and it still showed Amelia at home. It was quiet. The humming of the fridge and the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall, the only background noises. The apartment was a thousand square feet. She didn’t need to search it to know Amelia wasn’t here.

  Whitney was about to call her phone when the front door popped open. Amelia breezed inside, wearing a tank top, cutoff shorts that were way too short and flip-flops. She gasped, clutching her chest.

  “Oh, my God, Mom, you scared the shit outta me.”

  “What were you doing in the park today, and why weren’t you at school?”

  “The park? I was never at
the park today.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Amelia.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Then why did it show you at the park on the Find My Friends app?”

  Amelia frowned, blowing a breath out her nose. “We’ve talked about this before, Mom. You have to refresh it or it will glitch and show you like the last place you were or something.” She reached out. “Hand me your phone.” Whitney did as she was told. Amelia clicked on the screen and then held it up. “See? It’s showing you in the park right now.” She glared at her mom. “Why? Were you there looking for me?”

  Whitney’s skin flushed. She didn’t bother answering.

  Amelia rolled her eyes. After stabbing at the screen with her finger, she showed the phone to Whitney again. “And now you’re home.”

  “Oh.” Whitney bit her lip. “But why would it show you in the park in the first place? When were you there?”

  “I always cut through that park when I take the bus. So, I don’t know. Maybe the last time you tracked me was yesterday, and it froze there or something. I don’t own the app. I don’t know everything about it.”

  It was a phrase Whitney used to use all the time when Amelia was younger. Amelia was the queen of questions and sometimes it was wearying.

  “Mom, why is the TV station doing this?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t work for channel ten.”

  “Right,” Whitney responded now. Her eye twitched and she closed it for a second until the sensation vanished. “But why weren’t you at school?”

  “I told you last night I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t ask to stay home. Mrs. Pruitt said I called you out, but that’s not true.”

  “Wait.” Amelia held up her hand. “Mrs. Pruitt? You went to my school? Oh, my God, Mom. Why?”

  “No.” Whitney held her ground. She was the mom here. She had every right to check on her daughter at school. Amelia was the one who screwed up. Not her. “You’re not turning this around on me. You skipped school and I wanna know why.”