Page 11

“I’m sorry to tell you this,” the sheriff says in his thick Louisiana accent. “But there’s been an incident at Sunnycrest Asylum. A number of patients escaped last night.”

The crowd draws a sharp intake of breath. Some girls even gasp and clap their hands over their mouth in horror.

Sheriff Brady took the lead on my sister’s case. Although he had good intentions, his investigation was a mess, giving me zero faith he’ll be able to track down multiple criminals when he can’t find one teenage girl.

“Wait, doesn’t your dad run the asylum?” Nate whispers.

I slouch in my seat.

“Silence!” Principal Wire roars. “Pay attention!”

“These patients are extremely dangerous and pose a threat to our community,” the sheriff continues.

“How many of them?” someone shouts.

“What do you mean by ‘threat’?” another yells.

I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to escape.

It’s built like a fortress and designed to be unescapable.

That being said, the Titanic was an unsinkable ship and look what happened to that.

Every design has its flaws, and the asylum is full of patients who aren’t afraid to exploit any weaknesses they find.

“That’s all the information I can provide at this time,” Sheriff Brady says.

“However, let me reassure you that the sheriff’s office has the situation in hand.

We are working closely with the asylum to ensure the patients are apprehended.

Until all prisoners—I mean, err, patients—are located, we are imposing a nine p.m. curfew for the town, effective immediately.

No one should travel alone, unless absolutely necessary, especially women.

In the meantime, I ask you to remain vigilant.

If you see anyone you don’t recognize or any individuals acting suspiciously, report it to the police immediately.

But, most importantly, remember that there is no need to panic. ”

Telling us not to panic has the opposite effect.

Total chaos erupts. People complain about the unfairness of the curfew.

What about hockey practice? What about my dinner plans?

What about my birthday party? There are so many questions.

Too many for him to answer. His eyebrow ticks nervously.

He tries to hide it, but he’s worried. All of the officers are.

I grip my seat, struggling to take in the news. There are more than one hundred patients in Sunnycrest. The chances of the men I met in the shadows skulking around Pasturesville are low, right? My blood turns to ice as I remember they know my name.

“Quiet!” Principal Wire steps in to thwart the hysteria.

“The academy will set up a buddy system to ensure no one walks to their cars alone. All students should travel in pairs. Until further notice, all extracurricular events, including the music concert, are canceled. Your parents have been informed, and we have officers stationed at the school for extra security until all patients are found to help you feel safe.”

But we’re not safe. None of us are.

“We will keep you updated with any news. Until then, you should all return to your classes,” Principal Wire says. “I want you to continue your day as normal.”

“Fat chance of that,” someone scoffs.

An asylum breakout is the biggest event to happen in Pasturesville in years.

“Are you okay?” Nate asks gently. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine,” I say, pulling my blazer tighter around my body. “Just a little cold.”

When we get up to leave, Ms. Chi heads straight for me.

“Erin,” she says. Her brow crinkles with concern. “Can I have a word?”

“I’ll catch you later, Erin,” Nate says.

“Aren’t we going back to class?” I ask as Ms. Chi walks in the opposite direction.

“In a moment,” she says, pausing outside the teachers’ lounge door. “I’m sorry to pull you aside, but the sheriff would like to speak with you.”

“With me?” My jaw drops. “Why?”

“Take a seat inside,” she says, opening the door to reveal an officer with crossed arms lurking at the back of the room. “An officer will bring you back to class when they’re done.”

The officer doesn’t speak as I sit on the squeaky leather sofa. I adjust my position, crossing one leg over the other and back again. Did they find out my father locked me in the asylum? Do they think I know something?

I’m not kept waiting long before the sheriff arrives.

“It’s good to see you again, Erin,” he says, although his expression implies the opposite. He sits opposite me, his shirt buttons straining around his belly and threatening to burst. “How have you been after…”

“Sarah?” I prompt as his sentence trails off.

“One year,” he says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “How time flies…”

“Ms. Chi said you wanted to see me?” I ask.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “I’m sure the news about the escape must have come as a shock considering your fathers position at the asylum. None of his staff were hurt.”

Is that supposed to be reassuring? Dad doesn’t hire locally anyway. Orderlies and doctors come from out of state and can’t afford to live in Pasturesville, so they tend to commute in. If something bad happened at the asylum, it’d be easy for no one in town to find out.

“That’s good,” I say feebly.

“Now, I don’t want to alarm you,” he says. “But I have to tell you this as a precautionary measure…”

He really needs to work on his uplifting speeches because I’m fully prepared for whatever’s coming next to be awful.

“Because your father runs Sunnycrest Asylum, there is a small—tiny, really—chance that your family is at an increased risk of being targeted by the patients who got out,” he says. “Only minimal, though.”

“Targeted?” I repeat.

If I escaped from a facility with nothing to lose and no one to return to, I know who’d be first on my list to visit. The patients aren’t only mentally unstable, they’re convicted felons.

“We have officers stationed at your home, and one of my men will escort you to and from school.”

“What about my mom?” I ask.

“We’ll take care of her,” the sheriff says. “You’re in good hands.”

Numbness spreads through me. He said the same thing when he promised to bring Sarah home. His words mean nothing.

“We’ll have them herded up and back where they belong in no time,” he says unconvincingly. “Officer Blackwell will escort you to class now.”

The young officer loitering in the background scowls, clearly unhappy to be a teenager’s bodyguard when a manhunt is underway.

“Okay,” I say.

Officer Blackwell follows me down the empty corridor.

“I need to stop at my locker,” I say.

It’s been a long time since I’ve taken a Xanax, but I always keep a backup stash in case of emergencies. This is as good a time as any. I need something to take the edge off and calm me down.

Officer Blackwell merely grunts in response.

When I open my locker, a folded piece of paper with singed edges catches my attention. Someone has laid it neatly on top of my books. How did they get inside?

My heart thunders as I open it and read the words.

Have you missed us, Little Ghost?

Remember, we’re always watching…

The cursive is surprisingly delicate. Swirling black ink letters with gentle curves that resemble calligraphy. Something fluffy brushes against my palm. With a shaking hand, I turn the paper to find a lock of my hair taped down. A cruel taunt at how they took it from me so easily.

“What’s the holdup?” Officer Blackwell grumbles in bored disinterest. “Have you got everything you need?”

I should tell him. Instead, I stash the message quickly into my pocket. “Sorry, I’m coming now.”

I slam the locker shut. Telling him would mean getting my father in trouble and admitting what happened. Besides, they somehow managed to invade my personal space and sneak into the academy undetected. The cops can’t protect me.

“Move.” Officer Blackwell makes a shoo motion. “Back to class.”

They might be watching us right now, and we won’t even know it…