Pivot Point (Pivot Point, #1)(77)

“What do you need?” he asks. “Water?”

I shake my head no.

“A milk shake?”

“Ugh.”

He sits down next to me. “I wish I had that power to soothe your emotions like we gave Russell in the book.”

I lean into him. “No, I’m glad you don’t. I don’t like to have false emotions.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t go.” I know I sound like a child.

“But I brought books. Some really boring classics from my dad’s library.”

I smile and sit up so he can stand. He comes back holding a few books. “Do you want me to read to you?”

“Yes.”

He settles into the corner of the couch and lifts his arm. I lie alongside him. He’s an amazing reader, pausing at the right times, putting emphasis in just the right places. And the tone of his voice is so soothing, it makes me wish he were more talkative. “You do have the power to soothe my emotions,” I say when he pauses to turn a page. “Thank you.”

He squeezes my arm, and I kiss him. For the first time today I feel relaxed enough that I know I can perform a Search and hopefully help Laila. I try to formulate a choice that will most likely give me the information I need.

My phone rings, and we both turn toward it. “Will you get it?” I ask, my anxiety instantly returning.

He picks it up. I scoot back, as if putting distance between myself and the phone means any bad news won’t be able to reach me.

“Hello? … Hi, Mr. Coleman, this is Trevor.… It wasn’t a problem at all.” After this there is a long pause. Trevor nods and grabs my hand. “Did you want to talk to her? … Okay, here she is.”

He hands me the phone and inches toward me. His face blurs through my tears.

“Hello?”

“Hi, baby.” I know pity when I hear it.

I wipe my eyes, hoping that with clear vision, a clear mind will follow. “What’s going on?”

He’s quiet for a while, and I can picture his face in my mind, the way it looks, serious and thoughtful, when he tries to formulate the perfect words. “It’s Laila.”

“Did you find her?” I say, hope filling my chest.

“We did … she’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

“Addie, she’s dead. I’m so sorry.”

My mind, most likely in an attempt at self-preservation, goes completely blank.

My dad continues. “It wasn’t Mr. Paxton. Mr. Paxton gave us the name of a kid from your school who is responsible, but it was too late.”

“A kid from my school?”

“Yes, Bobby Baker. Do you know him?”

I nod, too dumbfounded to realize he can’t see me. Finally I stutter out, “M-maybe he’s l-lying. Maybe he just doesn’t want you to find her.” Bobby may be a jerk, but I never thought him capable of something this serious.

“He’s telling the truth. We’ve already taken Bobby into custody. I’ve interviewed him. Bobby is responsible.”

“But maybe Bobby just thinks she’s dead, and that’s why you got the read that he’s telling the truth. Maybe—”

“I saw her.” His words effectively crush my attempt at denial. “She’s gone.”

I must’ve dropped the phone, because Trevor is holding it and saying something to my dad. Then he hangs up and pulls me against him, smoothing my hair and telling me he’s sorry over and over. I can barely feel him or hear him.

Then his mouth is next to my ear. “Addison, listen to me. Are you listening?” I nod, and he continues. “You don’t pick this. This has to be a Search. There’s no way you would pick this. Everything will be okay.”

I wrap my arms around him. He’s right, and I love him for saying it.





CHAPTER 35


PAR?A?site: n. a person who benefits from others while offering no benefit in return





Bobby turns away from the heavily secured door.

“Can I use your phone?” I need to call my dad and let him know I’m okay in case Poison calls him back.

“Sure, but where is yours?”

“I left it in my car.”

He peers out the long window next to the door. “I didn’t see your car out there.”

I point vaguely to the right. “I parked up the street.”

He smiles as if he knows why. “My cell is in my room. I’ll go get it.” He moves toward the stairs.

“You don’t have a house phone?”

“Does anyone anymore?”

I shrug. “We do.”

He disappears upstairs, and I move to the front window, parting the drapes to create a small gap. First I glance to the left at the streetlight where Poison stood earlier. He’s not there, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t out there, waiting. Next my gaze shifts to Laila’s truck across the street. I want to hurl a rock at it. Duke’s window is dark, and I can’t help but wonder if they are up there, in his room.

“What did my curtains ever do to you?” Bobby asks from behind me.

I quickly release the material I’m crushing in my fist and turn to face him. “Sorry.”