Page 156 of Dying to Meet You

61

Natalie

“And what does Beatrice look like?” her father asks.

He’d answered the phone right away. He’d jumped off the stage and gone outside to take Natalie’s call.

“She’s... blonde. Very pretty. A little younger than mom.” Her voice trembles a little. The fact that her father is taking this so seriously makes it more scary, not less.

“Straight hair? Kind of a ski slope nose? Like... Sorority Barbie?”

“Yes,” Natalie gasps. “Why?”

“I met her. She seemed to know who I am. Doesn’t matter. We have to find your mom. Where does she usually run?”

Natalie has to admit that she doesn’t know.

“Could she be at work after hours?”

“With the dog?” That doesn’t make sense.

“Got a better idea?”

“No,” she admits. She pictures her mom with the dog on a leash and that skinny fanny pack she wears. Her earbuds in her ears.

Oh! The earbuds!

“Wait—hold on one second.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Because...” She navigates to the menu of apps on her phone and opens the FriendFinder app again. Her mother still doesn’t appear on the “friends” menu, but the app actually has two jobs. It keeps track of people and helps to find lost devices. Natalie flips to the devices menu and scrolls past her own stuff to her mother’s section. She taps on the icon for her mother’s earbuds.

And there they are—a cheery little picture of wireless earbuds right on Bond Street.

“Omigod, she’s at the mansion!” Natalie springs off the couch and grabs her shoes.

“Hey, don’t just run over there,” her dad says. “Let me check it out.”

“But I’m so much closer,” she argues. “Like, five minutes on my bike.”

“Wait—”

Natalie is already shoving her phone in her pocket.

62

Rowan

“So where’d you leave things with Hank?” Beatrice has a lot of questions about who I’ve spoken to and what I’ve said.

Stalling, I’ve alternated between self-aggrandizing lies and outright refusals to answer.

“Why do you care?” I yell back this time.

Lickie barks. She’s stress-drooling and chewing the shit out of her leash. But every time she gives it a yank with her strong neck, it holds.

“I have to know what to write in your suicide note,” she says. “Hank is really embarrassed about trying to maul you the other night.” She snorts. “Then you blew off a meeting and took most of two work days off. This morning I told him you seemed distraught.”