The Outliers (The Outliers, #1)(45)

We go on like that cabin after cabin. Roll forward, stop. Roll forward, stop. Officer Kendall gets out. Officer Kendall checks the building. Officer Kendall comes back. Shakes his head: nothing. Roll forward, stop. Roll forward, stop. All he reports are different kinds of garbage: candy wrappers in some, empty beer cans and cigarette butts in others. One had a huge pile of unraveled Saran wrap, which Officer Kendall can’t explain. I don’t want him to try.

As we move farther up the driveway, the cabins seem in worse shape; some are too broken down for him to even go inside, one not much more than a pile of boards. Officer Kendall shines his flashlight on even that, like maybe Cassie could be buried somewhere underneath. At least he seems competent, thorough. But it does make me think that I should have called Karen from town. Should have told her what we knew, the name of the town at least. I didn’t because Cassie had specifically asked us not to tell her mom, and that was even after she let us go to the police. But the truth is I also didn’t call Karen from Seneca because I didn’t want to end up talking to my dad. Now that he’s tried to get me committed—something I still can’t fully believe—I’m not sure I’ll ever talk to him again. It’s too late now to change my mind anyway. Back here, so deep in the woods, my cell signal is already long gone.

Finally, we pull to where the driveway dead-ends at the top of another hill in a circular parking area. There are three slightly larger cabins and a fourth much larger building, the size of two or three cabins combined. They are all pitch black, like the others, but easier to make out in the brighter clearing. From a distance, they look in much better condition, too.

“These are th-th-the main b-b-buildings,” Officer Kendall says. “But p-p-people usually stay down at the others—easier to g-g-get in. G-g-g-get out.”

I hear Jasper exhale hard. He shakes his head and turns back to me. “This isn’t looking good.”

He’s right. What will we do when Officer Kendall doesn’t find Cassie in any of these buildings either? I don’t have an answer for that. I look over at the buildings again. I’m not high on meth, but if I was going to go anywhere at that camp it would be there, the buildings that aren’t totally falling apart. This isn’t over until we’ve checked every last place. There’s still a chance that Cassie’s there.

“I’ll s-s-still check,” Officer Kendall says. “Th-th-there are the other c-c-camps, t-t-too. We’ll head there next. Maybe she g-g-got the n-n-name wrong.” He is being kind, staying hopeful. And I’m glad because someone needs to keep looking at the bright side now that Jasper can’t bring himself to.

Officer Kendall parks facing the open lawn between the buildings. It’s actually legitimately bright with the moon nearly full in the open patch of sky. He leaves the headlights on, too, this time, passing through the two beams of light on his way to check the first building. Lit up gold, Officer Kendall looks even more handsome and genuinely brave. And I try to see that as an encouraging sign until he pauses suddenly in the middle of the lawn to look down at something. His hand moves to his gun.

“What’s he looking at?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. But it’s impossible to see from where we’re parked.

“I don’t know.” Jasper presses his face in close to the wire cage locking us out of the front seat. Whatever it is, Officer Kendall kicks at it with his foot. “It’s a pile of something, maybe logs—wait, is that smoke?”

“Where?” My heart is beating hard as I squint harder. And then I see it, when Officer Kendall kicks again—smoke curling up toward the sky.

“Holy shit,” Jasper says. “There is somebody here.”

“Or was. Was somebody here,” I say, trying not to let myself feel too relieved. Or too worried. Because the thought of someone really being at that camp fills me with so much hope and even more dread. I pull in a mouthful of air, but already I feel light-headed.

A second later Officer Kendall is back, leaning in to grab his radio.

“Three-zero-six requesting b-b-backup,” he says. “Camp Colestah. Possible 207.” There’s no response. Maybe there never is, or maybe that means the sergeant and Officer O’Connell have closed up for the night. I feel like they might do that in a place like Seneca, close the police station. And what’s a 207? I’m too afraid to ask. Officer Kendall looks back at us. “I expect whoever was here is already g-g-gone. But I’m g-g-going to s-s-sweep the b-b-buildings just t-t-to be sure.”

It’s much worse being locked in the back of the car when Officer Kendall leaves this time. At least, it doesn’t take long for him to get through the first building and then the next, but the last of the small cabins he’s inside for a while. We can see his flashlight through the window, moving this way and that like he’s teasing a cat.

A minute later he’s coming back in our direction. But this time, he’s moving fast. He’s found something. And it isn’t good.

“I’m g-g-going to need the two of you to c-c-come with me,” Officer Kendall says when he opens my door. And all I want to do is slam it shut again. “There’s s-s-something I need to see if you can identify.”

Cassie’s body? That’s all I can think. “Identify what?”

“Just some c-c-clothing and a b-b-bag. New and expensive, not like an addict would have. I need to know if they belong to your f-f-friend. I’d bring them here, but I d-d-don’t want to disturb the scene, in case—” He doesn’t finish the thought. In case something horrible has happened to Cassie, that’s what he means. What’s inside could be evidence of a crime. Officer Kendall looks down the driveway and around the edges of the woods, like he’s considering. “Would p-p-prefer to wait for b-b-backup, but they could be a while.”