Page 16

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE AKANAS

Ken sits in the car in the dark campus parking garage. He can feel his wife examining him.

Amy finally says, “She’s okay.”

“It’s not like her.” Worry burrows deeper into his chest with every minute Libby doesn’t respond to their calls or texts.

Amy is quiet. Ken knows she’s scared too.

“You have her roommate’s number?” Ken asks.

“Yes. But I swore I’d never call unless it was an emergency.”

“What did she say earlier?” He’s trying not to overreact. But something’s off here; he can feel it.

“Nothing. Just that she’d meet us at the restaurant. Told us to be careful, since I mentioned what happened to the tires.”

His worry tunnels deeper.

Amy dials their daughter again and puts the phone on speaker. It doesn’t ring, just skips to Libby’s bright, happy voice: “This is Libby! Leave a message! Or, better yet, send me a text!” Amy leaves another message to call her: says they aren’t mad, just worried.

That settles it. Ken says, “Call Deepa.”

Libby’s roommate’s phone goes to an automated message too.

“I’m sure she just lost track of time,” Amy says. “Maybe they had too much to drink. It’s only been a few hours and—” She stops midsentence. “Where are you going?”

Ken’s already stepped out of the car. He stoops and looks inside. “To her dorm.”

“Ken, wait.”

He slams the door.

Amy jumps out. “Can we talk about this?”

He stops, looks at his wife. “I know her. Something’s wrong.”

“If you’re wrong, she’s going to be humiliated. Charging into her dorm like she’s in middle school.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he says. “You don’t have to come.” It’s an idle threat; he won’t leave her alone in a parking garage this late. He sees the acquiescence on her face.

They trudge down the stairs of the structure. The stairwell reeks of beer and urine.

The campus is well lit and students mill about. Ken never understands why their generation insists on doing everything so late. They don’t even leave the house until ten or eleven at night. It would be much more efficient and logical to start earlier.

He lets his “judge” thoughts flow through his mind unedited. It helps him keep calm. If ever he needed to be No Drama Akana, it’s right now.

Amy is silent. As they reach the heart of campus, Ken recognizes Campisi Hall from drop-off day. Libby’s energy was infectious as they loaded her things into the giant bin on wheels. When they went inside her small dorm room, she hugged her new roommate.

Libby and Deepa hit it off right away. Both neat. Both prelaw majors. Both responsible. Soon after, Libby told her mother that she was trying to venture out of her comfort zone, open herself up to different crowds. She’d been hanging out with a group from her capstone lately. The crew that skipped tonight’s dinner.

Ken and Amy stop at the front entrance to Campisi. The dorm requires a key card but it’s an easy system to bypass. They simply wait until students leave the building and catch the doors before they shut. Ken and Amy get a few sideways glances as they walk down the hall, maybe because the students recognize him from TV or maybe because it’s weird for parents to be roaming the dorm so late on their own.

They find the room. The door still has small laminated stickers with LIBBY and DEEPA written on them. Ken can hear a television inside. Or someone watching a show on a computer. Please be Libby. He knocks.

The TV goes quiet. The door opens a crack.

“Hi, Deepa. We’re so sorry to bother you, but we can’t seem to get hold of Libby. Is she here?”

Deepa’s eyes flash. It takes her a moment, like she’s processing, then she opens the door. Invites them in.

“You didn’t see her at the dinner?” Deepa asks.

Ken shakes his head. “She didn’t show up. None of the kids did. They probably lost track of time or something. But she’s not answering her phone.”

Deepa blinks several times.

“What is it?”

“Last I saw her, she was on her way to the dinner.” Deepa pauses, walks over to Libby’s side of the room.

“But I know why she’s not answering her phone.”

“Why?” Amy says, finally speaking.

Deepa points to Libby’s desk. On it sits an iPhone. Its face is cracked and screen black.

“It’s, um, broken. She borrowed mine since I wasn’t going out tonight. She wanted to be able to reach you in case you couldn’t find The Hut or something.”

“How did her phone—” Ken stops himself. “We called your phone too. No answer.”

“I know. I’ve been texting her. Using my computer.” She looks over at the laptop on her bed.

“Do you have Find My Phone?” Amy asks.

Deepa shakes her head. “But my mom does. She likes to make sure I’m in the dorm at night.”

“Can you call your mom?” Amy asks. She holds out her phone for the roommate to make the call.

“Um, yeah, sure.” She takes the phone.

There’s something in the way she takes the device that causes Ken’s Spidey sense to tingle. He’s seen many a witness in his courtroom lie by omission.

“What is it you’re not telling us, Deepa?”

The roommate appears conflicted. “Before Libby left for the dinner… she and Stella…”

“Libby and Stella what?” Ken says. Stella Maldonado is in the capstone, her dad was the guy so full of himself, the plastic surgeon.

“They had an argument. Stella showed up—she was angry. I stepped out so they could talk. When I came back Stella was gone. Libby’s phone was broken. Libby was stressed, running late to the dinner, and asked for my phone. Said she’d bring it back right after.”

“Do you know what they were fighting about?” Ken asks. The headache that’s been creeping up his neck now feels like an explosion in his skull.

Deepa shakes her head. “All she said was Stella freaked out and stomped on her phone.”

Twenty minutes later, Amy is fighting to keep the panic from consuming her. She’s also feeling guilty that she didn’t listen to Ken. It’s not like him to overreact; she should’ve given him the benefit of the doubt. Judge No Drama Akana isn’t one to act like the sky is falling.

“Please slow down,” she says, gripping the handle that hangs over the passenger window. Ken is racing to the coordinates Deepa’s mom sent them. It’s an unusual location: Rancho San Antonio County Park. Amy’s never heard of it, but the internet says it’s a public park with miles of hiking trails.

Ken doesn’t slow down. “I told you something was wrong.”

“We don’t know that,” she says, but he’s right. “Crashing the car isn’t going to help.”

“I think we should call the police,” Ken says.

She’s not going to fight him this time. “Let’s get to the phone first.”

He huffs, shakes his head like she doesn’t get it.

She searches on her phone for the campus police number. It’s late but they might have a night shift. Or should she call 911? She’s fighting her familiar companion, a force that took hold after Timmy’s diagnosis: despair .

She’s about to dial when she sees strobing lights ahead. A sign directs to a parking area for Rancho San Antonio. Ken drives faster, juts to a stop.

Amy sees the tall woman from the dinner—the mom with the security detail. She has a huddle of large men near her in the blue lights.

Then Amy sees a campus police car.

And her heart free-falls.