I jerk away from her.
“No. No, this is bullshit. You say she’s missing, but what you really mean is someone took her.” I narrow my eyes at the detective. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Has anyone been paying too much attention to Margo?” the detective asks. “Besides you. Her foster mother was unable to confirm anything, but I suspect Margo would’ve been more open to talking with friends.”
Fucking Unknown.
I’m no closer to figuring out who they are, but I’d bet I can find her faster than the Rose Hill Police Department.
Who knows how much manpower they have on a foster kid who’s been in the system forever? Who was once marked as a runaway? The detective is looking down his nose at her, even though he saw where the Jenkinses live. What kind of company Margo keeps.
He needs to leave.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Nothing jumps out.”
He pauses, then nods. “All right. We’ll be in touch. Stay in town, hear me?”
I lift my chin.
Eli’s mom shows him to the door, and I beeline for my room. I shove my shoes on, lacing them tightly, and grab my jacket.
Eli intercepts me at the top of the stairs.
“Dude.”
“Get out of my way,” I snarl.
“He’s still out there, you jackass,” Eli says. “What do you think, he’s just going to tell you Margo’s missing and then drive away?”
I should’ve assumed he was eavesdropping.
“I know—” I grimace. “I don’t know who has her. But I kind of know.”
He rears back. “What?”
“It’s complicated.” Panic grips my throat. I tug at my hair. “Listen, we don’t have time for this. I lost her once. I will not let someone else take her from me.”
Eli stares at me for a moment, then he grins. “I’m in.”
I blink. “Huh?”
“I’m in. And don’t worry about the detective—just meet me around the block in five.” He shoots me a look, snatching my keys out of my hand and tossing them over my shoulder. “You’re not even supposed to be driving, anyway.”
He spins around, leaving me standing there.
With Eli… a little bit of hope comes back. We can find Margo.
I’m not ten years old, pushed along by my family’s current. I can make my own choices. And I will bring her home.
Past
Margo. Margo. Where did she go?
Mom grabbed me, and my eyes flew open. I knew it was her before I was even aware, because she always smelled like roses and baby powder.
“Caleb,” she said. “Wake up.”
I was already staring at her. Her order came a few seconds too late.
I didn’t bother pointing it out to her. She moved away, to the foot of my bed. Her glare cut through my misery. Through me.
“Why did they take her away?”
“Her father—” Mom pressed her lips together. “After what that man did to our family, you still want to see her?”
I sat up. “She didn’t do anything.”
Mom laughed. I flinched at the sudden loudness of it in my room. It was dark, practically the middle of the night. No moonlight came in through my windows. There wasn’t even a breeze to cool my skin.
I was hot. Burning impossibly bright.
“She didn’t do anything?” Mom parroted. She turned on my overhead light.
Again, I was the only one who flinched. She was being mean. Grief made people do crazy things. And by grief I mean…
“Do you even care that your father is dead?”
Long live the king.
I’d been repeating that since the day he died. Why? Because he was still here, haunting the house. Lurking. His memory was pungent enough to suffocate a bear, and Mom just wouldn’t let it go.
I wanted Margo. Plain and simple.
Mom huffed at my silence. “Get up.”
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s two in the morning.”
“Get up Caleb Asher, or so help me—”
“Okay, okay.” I threw back the blankets and stood, keeping my attention half on her while I found my jeans and a clean shirt.
“Pack a bag.”
“What?”
“Pack a bag, Caleb,” she snapped. “Why do I have to ask you to do something twice?” To herself, she added, “He’ll learn.”
I shuddered but did as she’d asked. I threw clothes in a backpack. She disappeared, then returned with my toothbrush and a few other toiletries. She steered me down the stairs. Her grip was forceful.
Her bag was packed, too. A suitcase sat by the door.
“Where are we going?”
She gave me a brittle smile. “Away from this house.”
I cast a look around. “For how long?”
She shook her head. “Forever, as far as I’m concerned. The will reading is tomorrow, and I doubt your father left the house to me. Everything was locked up tightly in a trust.” She laughed. “How ironic.”
We stepped outside. It was just as hot and still out here as it was in my bedroom. The night wasn’t silent—not like the house. Quiet, yes, but there was life out here.
Not like in there.
“I don’t understand,” I told her, climbing into the car. At ten—almost eleven—I was just a hair shy of sitting in the front seat. Not that I minded in this particular instance. I took as much distance as I could get away with.
She tucked both our bags in the trunk, then slid into the driver’s seat. “You don’t understand what?”
How is Margo going to find me if I leave?
“You’re going to stay with family,” she said in an even tone.
I leaned forward against my seatbelt. “What about you?”
She met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “There are some things I need to take care of, Caleb. Finding someone to get the blood out of the carpet, for one. The sooner we can sell that godforsaken house, the better off we’ll be.”
White-hot fear flashed through me.
“No!” I yelled. “We can’t go!”
She ignored me.
“Mom! You can’t just—we need to stay! Margo—”
“Do not speak her name,” Mom hissed. She slammed on the brakes, jerking the car to the side of the road. She twisted around, pinching my chin. Her long nails dug into my skin. “She’s dead to us.”
“Just like Dad?” I managed.
Mom stared at me for a moment. “Didn’t you ever love him? Do you not get it? He isn’t coming back. This isn’t a dream you can wake up from, Caleb. Things won’t go back to how they were. And I sure as hell will not trap myself in Rose Hill while the rest of the world keeps turning.”
I did love him, but he screamed. Threw things. Instilled terror into us.
Us. Like Margo was sitting beside me.
I understood what Mom was saying. In Rose Hill, only bad things happened. She wanted a new chance at life.
But I didn’t. I wanted things back to normal.
I rubbed the bracelet on my wrist absently. I should’ve removed it and thrown it away, but the hate Mom kept insisting on wasn’t there. It wasn’t Margo’s fault. It was her dad’s fault.