Page 20

NINETEEN

There’s a pounding pain in my head; the annoying sensation rouses me from a restless sleep.

Groggy and unbalanced, I wander into the kitchen for a glass of water, the pour from the sink’s spout failing to move fast enough. I’m so dehydrated I feel hungover, even though I can barely remember the last time I had a sip of alcohol. With each thirsty gulp I swallow, memories from yesterday return.

Evie. The lock-in. Nadia. That damned door.

None of it feels real, and yet the nauseous feeling in my gut tells me it is. Evie is gone, and there’s no telling where she might be.

When I returned from Nadia’s, my mind and body were so overwhelmed I went straight to sleep. I must have slept close to fifteen hours yet I still feel exhausted.

There’s a knock at the front door. I remain standing in the kitchen for a few seconds, my mind struggling to process the sound, before walking into the foyer. Just as I’m about to open it, someone raps against the door a second time, the sound reawakening my stubborn headache.

“I’m here,” I say, pulling open the door. Bursts of sunlight invade the house, and I raise a palm to my throbbing head. A woman I’ve never seen before stands in front of me. It takes another several seconds for me to register what she’s holding in her hand: a badge.

“Detective Fields with Manning PD,” she says, flapping her hand shut and sliding the badge into her navy jacket. “Cassandra?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice not quite awake.

“You were one of the chaperones at Friday night’s lock-in, correct?”

“I already spoke with the officers at the scene.”

“I know. I’ve read through your statement,” she says. “I’ll be heading the Evie Masters case. Care if I come inside?”

I don’t reply, simply move back to allow her to walk past. As she enters the house, her head twitches from left to right like a nervous bird, surveying the area.

“Beautiful home,” she says, a smidge of skepticism in her voice. “Very clean.”

“It’s not hard to keep house when you’re constantly at the basketball court.”

“You’re the team’s head coach, right?” she says, even though she must already know the answer. She sits in the center of the sofa, and I burrow into the armchair across from her. “That’s why you were chaperoning the lock-in.”

“Yes. I’ve been at Manning Academy for four years now.”

“Good school. Parents must pay an arm and a leg for their kids to go there.”

“Most of them,” I say. But not Evie. She gets lumped into the preppy stereotype of a Manning Academy student, even though she’s unlike the rest. “Let’s get the questions out of the way. I’m fighting a migraine on very little sleep.”

“I can only imagine.” Fields leans back, resting her palms on her knees. “The past twenty-four hours must feel like a nightmare. Now that I’m heading the investigation, it’s important I hear every detail in your own words.”

I retell the events from Friday night until Saturday morning, just as I told the other officers yesterday. Everything except that I willingly opened a door near the computer lab. The memory of doing so flashes through my mind, and I can’t help wondering if, regardless of what Nadia says, I somehow contributed to Evie’s abduction.

When I finish answering her questions, I turn the tables on her. “What have you figured out? Surely you’ve uncovered something since yesterday.”

“Unfortunately, no.” Fields sits up for the first time, but refuses to look at me, instead studying the pattern on the rug beneath her feet. “With this age, there’s always the possibility she ran away.”

“All of her stuff, including her phone, were left behind in the gym,” I say, quickly. Labeling Evie as a runaway will deter people from looking for her. Even the suggestion that she left willingly could hinder the investigation. “Besides, Evie wouldn’t do that.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because I know her. I know all the girls on my team. If they were struggling, they wouldn’t take off. They’d come to me.”

“You sound confident about that.”

“I am,” I say, my senses coming alive for the first time in our conversation. “Evie and I were especially close.”

“Tell me, then. What do you think happened?”

Just as quickly, my confidence is stilted. There’s nothing I can suggest without divulging more information about Nadia and my own wrongdoing. “She must have left the gym during the night. If someone was lingering around one of the exits, they could have spotted her and taken her then.”

“There’s no way someone could have come into the school?”

“If someone entered the gymnasium in the middle of the night, I would have heard them,” I say.

But if they came in through another entry point, would I have heard them then? The computer lab was on the opposite side of the building. Someone could have entered through the door I opened, and no one inside the building would have ever known.

“There are cameras all over the building,” I go on, forcing my thoughts elsewhere. “When you’re able to recover the footage, you should be able to see if there was anyone else around that night.”

“That would be helpful,” Fields says, leaning back again. “As of now, the files are still corrupted. Our team is working on it. The tech guy is confident he’ll be able to see what’s on the tapes, it just might take some time.” Then, almost under her breath, she adds, “Time we don’t have.”

Even a layperson knows that when a child goes missing every passing hour is crucial. It’s an unfortunate delay having the files corrupted. Almost too convenient. Of course, Joanna spilled the water by mistake. My uncertainty over Evie’s disappearance is making me paranoid.

“What can we do in the meantime?”

“The community is hosting a prayer circle this afternoon to increase awareness.”

“Is the family organizing that?” I say, wincing when I recall the harsh tone Evie’s mother used on the phone yesterday.

“No, it’s others in the community.” Fields pauses. “Evie’s family isn’t like most of the others at Manning Academy. Her background might be another element that needs to be explored. I think it’s why they brought me in. I’m familiar with the part of town where Evie grew up. Only started working in central Manning in the past couple of years.” She stands, flattening out the bunched-up fabric around her thighs. “Thanks for answering my questions, Cassandra. We’ll be in touch if we need more information.”

“Call me Cass,” I say, standing. “I’m willing to help any way I can.”

Fields cocks her head to the side, studying my face. “Cass. I knew you looked familiar.”

I study her too, trying to place her. She appears a few years older than me, but forgettable, average. “Have we met before?”

“A time or two,” she says, still eyeing me with curiosity. “You played at Manning Heights High School.”

“That’s right,” I say, even though I’m still having difficulty placing her. I’ve never been good with faces, but Fields appears too old to be a former classmate.

“Like I said, I used to work that part of town.” Her words are clipped, her eyes never once leaving my face. “I think I picked you up a couple of times.”

Heat blossoms through my cheeks and neck. I pull my robe around me tighter, despite not being cold, as if I’m trying to protect myself from something. I still don’t quite remember Fields, but it’s easier for me to place her now, slapping handcuffs on me outside of the mall. The minor offences from my past are totally out of character considering the life I’ve built for myself now. Upstairs, I hear Connor climb out of bed and walk into the bathroom. For a moment, I’d forgotten he was here at all. Another few minutes, and he could have overheard this entire conversation, and I’d have to fend off his questions:

What does she mean she remembers you? When were you in trouble with the cops?

“It’s been a long time,” I say, plastering on a confident smile. “Feels like an entire lifetime ago.”

Fields’ stare leaves my face at last, surveys our home deliberately. “I’d say it does.”

“You’ll let me know if there are any updates?” I ask, already pacing to the front door. My hand is on the lock, eagerly unfastening it.

“I’ll be in touch.”

When she says this, it sounds more like a promise than a common phrase. It sounds like a threat. Now that she has placed me, it’s like she sees a different version of me completely. Gone is the responsible coach with a winning track record and stable home. Now all she sees is the screw-up from my youth. It’s what I’m afraid everyone will see of me, if they ever knew the ugly truth of my upbringing.

They don’t even know the worst of what I’ve done. Only Nadia knows that.

Peering out the small window beside the door, I watch as Fields takes one final look at my house before entering her car. When she drives away, I lean against the frame and exhale, unable to ignore the pattering of my heartbeat.

“Who was that?” Connor asks, finally coming downstairs. His eyes are still puffy with sleep.

“A detective,” I say, my voice level. “She had a few more questions.”

Connor rubs his forehead, like he still can’t believe this is real. He steps into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Please.” I look out the window again, as though to make sure Fields is really gone. Nadia’s face flashes through my mind. I still can’t shake the feeling that she’s to blame for all this, that her reappearance in my life isn’t a mere coincidence. It’s like the moment she re-entered my life, she opened a door to my past that now refuses to shut.

You’re the one that opened a door , a small, pestering voice says inside.

I clinch my eyes shut, wishing it wasn’t true.