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Jacián’s eyes narrow, then soften. “Fine.” He steps back, turns sharply, and walks up the stairs. Kendall hears his feet and the click of the front door closing.
She glances over her shoulder nervously as she packs the beef in the freezer. By size and shape. It’s the only way she can stand to do it.
She rushes through her shower and gets ready. Waits until almost noon for him to show up. And then she calls Nico’s house. Nico’s line is busy. Kendall hangs up and calls the home line instead. Mrs. Cruz answers.
“Hey, Mrs. Cruz. Nico there?”
“Kendall! No, haven’t seen him up yet this morning. Leave a message?”
“Hmm.” Kendall thinks. “We’re supposed to go to Bozeman today. Maybe you should wake him up.”
“Sure thing. I’ll have him call you in a minute.”
“Thanks!”
“Bye, hon.”
“Bye, Mrs. Cruz.”
Kendall hangs up and flips on the TV. The news anchor talks about that sixteen-year-old serial killer in Brazil again—the girl who killed twelve people. Wow. Just wait until she tells Nico. Makes Jacián the teenage kidnapper look just a little bit lame.
Twenty minutes pass, and Kendall grows concerned that Nico hasn’t called. Just when she’s about to call him again, the phone rings.
It’s Nico’s mother.
“Kendall,” she says, her voice distressed, “Nico’s not home. His bed is made. There’s no note.”
Kendall’s stomach jumps into her throat before she can think rationally. “Is his car gone?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Well, that’s good, then, right? He’s probably just out somewhere.” Kendall’s tongue is thick. She swallows hard. Breathes.
“Yes, that’s probably it,” Mrs. Cruz says, and then she laughs anxiously.
Kendall whispers, “Maybe he went to Bozeman without me.”
They find the car. It’s not in Bozeman. It’s parked at the school.
And Nico’s not there.
After a cursory search through the town and all around the school grounds, Nico’s parents start contacting everybody they can think of, asking if they’ve seen him.
There is no sign of Nico Cruz.
Nico’s car engine is cold, and according to Sheriff Greenwood, there are no clues inside. Not in the car, or in the school. Still, they tape off everything as a precaution. After what happened with Tiffany Quinn, it’s never too soon to suspect a missing person. Everybody’s on edge.
When Kendall hears the news about the car, she runs the mile from her house to the school. The car looks so lonely sitting there, surrounded by onlookers. Air crushes her chest. She sinks to her knees, can’t catch her breath. People start crowding around her to see the car, the school . . . as if there is something to see. But there’s nothing. Just a car, a building. Yellow tape.
“He could be fine,” someone says. “Maybe we’re all overreacting. He’s practically a grown man. Maybe he’s out for a hike.”
“Maybe he’s hunting back in the woods.”
“Maybe his car ran out of gas and he pulled in here.”
“Yes, let’s not jump to conclusions.”
But the other whispers are there too, growing louder. “Another one. What’s happening to our safe little town? All the children are disappearing.”
Kendall tries, fails to tune them all out.
It’s all she can do to just breathe. And count.
Count breaths: thirty-six. Count stones in the dirt: more than fifty. Count people saying stupid things: all of them.
Count all the days she’s known him: infinity.
Maybe he’ll be back before she’s done counting.
Maybe not.
The buzzing noise of the people grows louder and louder, and Kendall can’t think. She can’t count with so much distraction. She stands up and shoves through the crowd, screaming, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! All of you just shut up!” Tears blur everything.
Someone grabs her sleeve. Blindly she whips her arm away and runs, runs like hell. Runs almost all the way home, until her feet can’t keep up with her and she plunges forward, down onto the gravel, shredding her palms and knees. And then she just lies there as a huge splash of hurt rips through her body, and she’s so grateful for the pain, because she can feel it. It lets something else loose. She sobs. There in the gravel on the side of the road in front of Nico’s farm, she sobs, under the old rusty mailbox where she used to put notes for him, grasshoppers and bees fly and buzz around her in a panic.
It’s not long before she hears feet crunching on the gravel. When the sound stops next to her, she lifts her head and looks up, squinting into the sun. Her lip starts quivering again. “Mom,” she says.
“I couldn’t run quite as fast as you,” she says, “but at least you ran in the right direction.”
Kendall slowly pushes herself up to her feet. Tries to wipe the gravel out of her hands and knees, but some of it’s stuck hard. She starts crying again and gives up as Mrs. Fletcher wraps her arms around the girl.
“Come on inside,” Kendall’s mom says. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Sheriff Greenwood is coming over in a few minutes. He wants to talk to you.”
Kendall jerks her head up. “Why?”
“Just to get an idea of who saw him last. Nobody thinks you did anything. They think he left the house late last night.”
“Why would he do that?” Kendall limps up the long driveway to their farmhouse. “I think my brain is going to burst,” she says. “My OCD is going crazy.”
“I know, honey. This is hard. But we’ve got to stay hopeful, okay? He’s a big strong guy. He can take care of himself. We just need to figure out what happened. Find out where he is.”
Kendall nods. Inside the house she works on cleaning her wounds. Mrs. Fletcher turns on the news, but there’s nothing about Nico yet. Takes a while for word to travel to civilization from way out here.
Sheriff Greenwood arrives, cowboy hat in hand. With him is someone Kendall doesn’t recognize.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Fletcher, Kendall. This is Sergeant Dunne from the Montana State Police. He’s here to help us find Nico.”
“Hello, please sit down,” Mrs. Fletcher says, pointing to the dining table. She walks through the great room into the kitchen, gets cups, saucers, and the coffee pot, and pours coffee automatically, as if the two cops come over for coffee every day.
They sit at the dining room table, and Sheriff Greenwood takes out a notepad. “For the sake of time, we’re going to get right into the questions here, okay?” He continues without looking up to see the nods. “Now, Kendall, can you describe your relationship with Nico Cruz?”
Kendall is immediately flustered. “What do you mean? We’re neighbors, best friends since we were little kids. You know that.”
Sergeant Dunne leans in and says, “Are you all dating?”
“Yes, I guess so. I mean, we don’t really go out all that much, but yeah . . . sort of.”
Sergeant Dunne nods. “So he’s your boyfriend?”
“No. I mean . . .” Kendall looks to her mother for help.
“Kendall doesn’t like to use that term because it feels too much like a commitment, but yes, for all intents and purposes here, Nico is Kendall’s boyfriend.” Mrs. Fletcher holds Kendall’s hand and squeezes it. She looks at Kendall and says, “Okay?”
Kendall nods. She agrees. She just can’t say it.
“Okay,” Sheriff Greenwood says. “When did you last see Nico?”
“Yesterday at school. I had to go into town to pick up a few things after school. He went home.”
“What things?”
Kendall blushes deeply. “Tampons. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Kendall,” Mrs. Fletcher says, “they’re just trying to figure things out.”
“Sorry, miss,” Sergeant Dunne says. “So that was at what time?”
“Three thirty-five, I guess.”
“You didn’t see him after that?”
“No.”
“Did you talk with him last night? E-mail, phone?”
“He calls me most nights around eleven.”
“Did he call last night?”
Kendall hesitates, trying to remember. “Actually, I don’t know. I fell asleep on the couch down here watching TV. Mom?”
“I didn’t hear your phone ring,” Mrs. Fletcher says. She turns to the men. “Kendall has her own phone line in her bedroom. It didn’t ring down here, as far as I know, but Dad and I were asleep by ten.”
“You go to bed early on a Friday night,” the sergeant says lightly.
Mrs. Fletcher looks at him sharply. “We live on a farm. Day begins at five a.m., sir. We don’t pause for the weekends.”
Sergeant Dunne nods. “Yes, ma’am.” He turns back to Kendall. “So you don’t think he called?”
“I don’t know if he called. I can’t hear my phone ring down here.”
Dunne looks at Greenwood. “I’ll have them check phone records. Please write your phone number here, Miss Fletcher. Nico’s, too, please.”
“Didn’t Mr. and Mrs. Cruz already give you Nico’s number?” Mrs. Fletcher asks.
“Ma’am, there could be more than one number. Teenagers hide things from their parents all the time. Don’t they, Kendall?” He glances at her.
She glares back at him. “I don’t.”
Mrs. Fletcher pours more coffee.
“All righty, Kendall,” Sheriff Greenwood says. “How has Nico been acting lately? The same as always, or different? Anything unusual that springs to mind?”
Kendall swallows hard. She doesn’t like Sergeant Dunne. Doesn’t want to say anything that might make Nico look bad. But she knows she has to tell the truth. “He’s been acting preoccupied the last few days.” Her voice catches a little, but she controls it. “We were supposed to go to Bozeman today to look at Montana State. He wants to be a nurse. So I think he had that on his mind.”
Sheriff Greenwood writes for a moment. “What else do you think could have made him act preoccupied? Anything?”
Kendall thinks hard. Shakes her head. “Nothing I can think of.”
“Were you two having relationship problems?”
“No. I mean, I asked him if he was acting weird because of me, and he said no, he loved me just like always.” Kendall chokes on a deep sob that comes from her gut. Mrs. Fletcher puts her arm around Kendall. She’s crying too now. The bad thoughts start going in Kendall’s head again. Stuff she can’t control. Could Jacián have done something to Nico, too?
Sheriff Greenwood writes a few more things, and then closes his notebook. “Okay. That’s it for now.”
Kendall looks up. “Are you going to question Jacián Obregon?”
Mrs. Fletcher turns sharply toward Kendall, surprised.
Sheriff Greenwood shakes his head firmly and says with an edge in his voice, as if he’s said it ten times before, “Jacián Obregon is not a suspect here or in Tiffany Quinn’s case. Do you have reason to think he should be? Real reason, I mean, not just rumors?”
Kendall opens her mouth, and then she closes it again. And then says, “No, sir.”
“Good. Then, let’s leave him out of it. He’s been through enough.”
Kendall stares at the sheriff. “I’m sorry,” she says after a moment.
He nods and smiles sympathetically, and suddenly he’s Eli’s dad again. “No harm done.” He stands up, and Sergeant Dunne follows. “We’re going to do everything we can to find him.”
“Are we going to do a massive search thing, like with Tiffany?” It strikes Kendall that a search could turn up absolutely nothing, just like last time. She can’t let herself believe it.
“It’s being planned right now, and the first responder teams are already out there, just in case. You should get a call this evening with instructions for an organized search first thing tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll find he’s just out hiking in the foothills or something and it won’t be necessary.”
“Thank you,” Kendall says. Mrs. Fletcher walks them to the door. Kendall lowers her head to the table. Numb. She knows he’s not hiking. He would never do that alone. Not without her.
Just then, Sergeant Dunne pops his head back in. “By the way, Kendall, what was the relationship between Nico and Tiffany Quinn? Did they know each other?”
Kendall lifts her head and looks at Sergeant Dunne. She narrows her eyes. “Of course. Have you seen the size of this town? Everybody knows everybody.”
