Page 23 of Betrayed

Her and Mary’s friend, Gretchen.

I ride the train, then walk down cobblestone streets in a drizzling rain until I see a navy and maroon sign hanging from a brick building, The Bureaucrat written in gold, gilt-edged letters.

I slip inside and sit at an open table near the window. I pull the dusty wood chair to the table.

A wisp of a girl comes over to take my order.

She’s shy and a bit squirrely, her gaze darting to the front door at least three times as she takes my order.

“I’ll have the chicken pie.” I hand her back the menu, glancing at the faint bruises on her wrist.

“Right.” She tugs the sleeve of her shirt down to hide them.

“Helena told me I could find you here.”

“Helena?” She narrows her gaze.

I nod. “I just have a few questions for you. I’m… I’m looking for someone.”

“No.” She shakes her head, backing away from me. “I’ll go put your order in.”

I need to get her to talk to me. But how? She’s definitely tense. I see a glass cake stand on the shiny wood bar, holding a Victoria sponge, a two-layer buttery cake with cream and jam in the middle.

As she turns to leave, I add, “I’ll have a slice of cake, too.”

After I eat, she comes to clear my plate.

I slide the untouched cake towards her. “Sit.”

She gives me an uneasy look.

“Please.” I nod at the dessert. “I saved it for you.”

She glances at the gold clock on the wallpapered wall behind her. “My break is in ten. I’ll come back then.”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks for the cake.” She gives me a small smile.

Mary returns in ten minutes. Gretchen was their friend. She’d been acting strangely in the weeks before her disappearance, shifty, like she was scared of someone. Helena described Gretchen as a striking girl who made both men and women turn their heads.

As soon as she describes the missing girl, I know.

The Hoax is here. Caleb might be here, too.

I feel it in my skin.

I sense the familiar crawl—the feeling that someone’s watching, someone’s waiting.

He could be close.

He could be playing with me already.

I’m back at the train station, sitting on a bench with my arms folded over my backpack on my lap, my knee bouncing.

And then I see him.

Not clearly.