The Outliers (The Outliers, #1)(44)

“Why?” I ask, trying to sound casual. (I do not. Not in the least.)

“You c-c-can ride along,” he says. “I had a g-g-good friend who OD’d. I g-g-get it. J-j-just d-d-don’t t-t-tell my boss.”





I’ve never ridden in the back of a police car, but I’m guessing this one is way nicer than most. It’s a brand-new Ford Explorer with smooth leather seats. It even has that new-car smell, which unfortunately reminds me of Doug and Lexi’s car. The meth problem might be ruining Seneca, but it’s sure not ruining their police cars. More proof maybe that they’re not doing a whole lot of actual fighting in this drug war.

We’re quiet most of the fifteen-minute drive up to Camp Colestah. Jasper looks over at me a couple of times like he’s searching for a sign I want him to speak up, which is, of course, my fault. Eventually, he even motions toward Officer Kendall, then himself: you want me to say something? Just in case I didn’t know what he meant. All our quiet mouthing of words makes Officer Kendall glance in the rearview. I shake my head and turn toward the window in silence.

The farther we go, the darker it gets and the stiffer my lungs become. But I feel a tiny bit better when we finally turn onto a dirt-and-gravel driveway. Soon, at least, we’ll know something.

“Th-th-this is it,” Officer Kendall says as we pass disintegrating stone columns and a lopsided wood sign, the words Camp Colestah barely visible. “Once upon a t-t-time it w-w-was a real nice place. R-r-rich kids from Boston.”

“Why did it close?” I ask. Already, I can feel something terrible has happened there. I’m hoping maybe it was a long time ago.

“Owners’ s-s-son drowned in the p-p-pool,” he says. “Got c-c-caught on the d-d-drain in the d-d-deep end. I knew him. G-g-good kid. Parents c-c-closed up and moved out west after.”

The gravel crunches under our tires as we roll on, our headlights flashing across the tall, bare trees as the ragged driveway curves right and then back to the left. We go a couple of hundred more feet before Officer Kendall finally stops.

“S-s-stay here,” he says as he puts the car in park, then motions to the dark woods. “G-g-got to sweep each b-b-building as we go. Clear it. Oldest c-c-cabins are d-d-down here. Those are th-th-the ones they like.”

I would have thought I’d demand to go along with Officer Kendall, but I’m more than happy to stay safely in the car. Evidently, Jasper isn’t as put off by how creepy the place is.

“You sure you don’t want us to—”

“S-s-s-stay here,” Officer Kendall shoots back with a lot more force the second time. “B-b-be g-g-glad I let you c-c-come.”

We sit in silence, watching from the backseat as Officer Kendall’s flashlight bounces through the trees, down a slope, then up again. Once my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can make out where he’s headed, four small cabins up on the hill. Officer Kendall—or his flashlight at least—seems headed first to the one on the far right.

“Well, this sucks ass,” Jasper says as Officer Kendall’s flashlight disappears inside the first cabin. It’s the first really negative thing he’s said.

“I thought you were all about optimism,” I say, and it is a dig for calling me pessimistic before. Even though I know there are much worse things he could have called me. “What happened to your glass half-full?”

“Maybe you drank it.” Jasper smiles a little when he turns to me. But it fades once he reaches forward and tries the door. It doesn’t open. “We’re locked in here, you know.”

“It is a police car,” I say, like that was already obvious to me. It wasn’t, and I definitely wish Jasper hadn’t mentioned it. Because now all I can think about is what will become of us if something happens to Officer Kendall out there? What if whoever is responsible comes after us, trapped there in the middle of nowhere?

My heart beats harder as I watch Officer Kendall’s flashlight bounce around the inside of the second small cabin. When the light shines through the front window, I see something hanging out in front of the window. Screens, maybe? We’re too far away to be sure, but that’s what it looks like. Like someone tore them up trying to escape. I don’t realize how tight I’ve been holding my body until Officer Kendall has finished searching the last two cabins and his flashlight is finally bouncing back our way.

“We shouldn’t have come here,” I say before he reaches the car.

“What do you mean?” Jasper asks. “Here where? The camp?”

“I don’t know.” And that is the truth. I don’t know what I mean. But there is no doubt that is exactly the way I feel.

“Hey.” Jasper reaches over and gives my hand a quick squeeze. But long enough for me to notice just how stiff and cold my own fingers are. “It’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” I say.

“Maybe not,” Jasper says. “But that’s not going to stop me from believing it.”

“N-n-nothing,” Officer Kendall says when he finally opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat. “Except s-s-s-ome g-g-garbage, wrappers, b-b-beer cans.”

“That means someone’s been here,” I say.

“S-s-someone’s always b-b-been here,” he says. “They use it, m-m-move on.”