Lost Girls(19)

I’m not sure if he meant to, but he had succeeded in scaring the crap out of me. Still, it wasn’t going to stop me. I had to do what I had to do. I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, then turned away from him, heading back toward Lincoln High.





Chapter Thirteen


I had to pass those damned cherry trees to get back to my car, that memorial still in place, notes swirling in the wind, white petals falling like snow, landing in my hair and on my shoulders. Agent Bennet sauntered a few steps behind me, stopping to make a phone call, but keeping his gaze focused on me all the time.

I wished I could research him as easily as he could me.

When had those other girls gone missing—within the past three months? The fact that the FBI was involved made me think the girls weren’t all from the L.A. area. Some of them must have been from other states. Did that mean there was a serial killer on the loose, or was this some sort of human trafficking?

By the time I grabbed my backpack and books from my car and then texted Dad, I realized that I’d missed half of first period—the only class I had with Dylan. If I didn’t hurry, I might not see him again until lunch. Grumbling, I headed toward the building, weaving through tangles of students who didn’t seem to care if they were late, some of them smoking cigarettes, some of them smelling like they’d been smoking stuff a little bit stronger. The student parking lot was the last space we had to ourselves before we were devoured by the school. It was our goal, our free zone. It was where couples hooked up and where stoners passed each other suspicious-looking paper bags—as if it wasn’t obvious what any of them were doing.

I passed a Mini-Coop, surprised when Lauren climbed out, her eyes glazed, her walk unsteady. The closer she got, the more apparent the pungent smell of weed was in her clothes and hair. I’d never seen her like this before. She’d always been a model student, the one everyone’s parents used as an example when their kids were flunking a class or getting in trouble. Look at Lauren Maxwell, head cheerleader—she gets straight As and never misses a game or practice. Why can’t you be more like her?

She spotted me. Long, blond hair tousled, she waved and called my name, her footsteps unsteady as she walked in my direction, giggling. “Stoner 101,” she said with a conspiratorial grin, talking behind her hand. We were hiking side by side, past tall oleander hedges that blocked the parking lot from the football field and the rest of the school. “Weed really takes the edge off you-know-what.” Then her eyes widened as if she’d made a huge mistake. “I shouldn’t have said that. I forgot you don’t remember anything.”

“I’m not an idiot. You shouldn’t act like I am,” I said, my irritation level higher than it should have been so early in the morning.

“You feeling okay?” Lauren asked, a curious expression on her face. “I saw you talking to some hot guy outside school grounds for a long time. Does Dylan have competition?”

The last thing I needed right now was for anyone at school to find out that an FBI agent was tailing me everywhere I went. “No. And don’t say anything to Dylan about it, either.” It felt surprisingly like I’d just given her an order…and she just bobbed her head in agreement.

“Oh, I’d never say anything. Girlfriends always come first, right?”

“Maybe,” I said, my irritation fading. Even though I was still getting to know her, there was something about Lauren that I really liked. Some part of her resonated with that dark, secret part of myself. It felt like the Goth version of myself was coming back, little by little, so slow I barely realized it. It was getting easier for me to make decisions based on my gut, even when I knew those decisions might lead toward danger. Like the way I’d let Agent Bennet follow me instead of driving straight to the police station, even before I knew who he was. And the fact that I’d gotten out of the car to confront him, even though I was afraid.

This new me was a risk-taker, unafraid of consequences.

“Hey, do you know any of these people?” I asked as I pulled out that folded sheet of paper I’d found in my closet, smoothing it flat between my fingers. Lauren acted like we were good friends, so maybe she knew who these girls were. Maybe they were cheerleaders from other schools or maybe we all had a mutual friend. There had to be a connection here somewhere.

Her lips moved as she read each name. She looked back up at me, shaking her head. “Sorry, Rach, I don’t. They must go to a different school. Maybe Saint John’s or Santa Madre High?”

“Do you know anything about a rave called Phase Two?”

She stopped walking, an astonished expression on her face. “I thought you didn’t remember anything.”

“I don’t. I found a pair of ticket stubs in my closet. Just tell me what you know about it.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Lauren, if you know something you have to tell me.”

Her demeanor changed, her skin turned pale, her eyes shifting left then right. She leaned so close the smell of weed was overwhelming and her words came out in a hoarse whisper. “You made me promise not to talk about it, not at school, not at home! Never means never, that’s what you said—”

What I did next surprised both of us.

I grabbed her hand and twisted her thumb sideways. She let out a little cry and her knees buckled. If I hadn’t grabbed her around the waist with my other hand, she would have fallen. I spoke in her ear, amazed at the cruel tone in my voice. “You’re going to tell me.”