Gun Shy(41)

“Don’t go near that fucking garage,” Damon murmurs in my ear. “I mean it, Cassie.”

I nod. “I won’t.”

It’s cold outside. Snow fell pretty heavily last night, and the place is blanketed in white. I wonder, briefly, if someone should have had the posters laminated to stave off the weather. I look around the parking lot of the grill, my heart heavy, Jennifer’s eyes following me from the posters I’ve already attached to every solid surface.

I’m about to staple a poster to the base of a wooden power pole when I notice the remnants of an old poster in the very same spot. My blood turns to ice as I realize this is the exact same spot where Leo and I stood nine years ago and stapled a poster of Karen Brainard. This exact spot.

I throw the rest of the Jennifer posters into a nearby trashcan.

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL? No, I haven’t. Nobody has. That’s the whole fucking point.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN





LEO





The next day, I skip my shift at the garage. Hannah’s been complaining of pains in her stomach, and I need to make sure she’s okay.

I want to take her to see a proper doctor, but she’s terrified of hospitals. She had medical problems when she was little, part of her condition, and now you can’t get her into one of those places unless you basically drug her first.

Even to take her to the dentist when she had an abscess, Pike and I had to hold her down and make her take some of Mom’s strong painkillers to calm her down enough.

The girl’s had a lot of trauma in her short little life.

I could drug her now — only I can’t drug her — she’s pregnant. So I get Pike to drive us to the diner and once most of the breakfast crowd has cleared out, I lead her down the hallway to Amanda’s office. Part of me hopes I run into Cassie again. Another part makes sure I pull my baseball cap down low over my face so that even if she were here, we could pretend we didn’t see each other.

I’ve already briefed Amanda on the situation. She’s a good person, and she gets us the help we need, sitting Hannah on an old sofa in the corner and speaking to her gently. She has a little thing called a Doppler that she got from Craigslist after I told her about Hannah a few days ago, and she slides it along Hannah’s stomach, searching.

There it is. A clip-clop-clip-clop, a horse’s gallop, over and over. I don’t think Hannah understands what it is, or even the notion that there’s a baby inside her. After Amanda checks her over, she gives her a menu, tells her to order whatever she wants, and sends her to one of the booths out front.

We step out into the hall and watch as Hannah walks, or waddles, past the kitchen pass and slides into a booth. She could be hours — a poor trailer kid being given a free meal is akin to a junkie being given a spoon and a baggie full of pharmaceutical-grade heroin. She’s grinning from ear to ear, and I make a mental note to take her to do something like this — the diner visit, not the rest— more often.

“This last year’s been tough on your sister,” Amanda says. “I try to check in when I can, but your mother hasn’t let me past the front door these past months. Now I can see why.”

Hannah doesn’t go to school. She spends her days in the trailer, watching TV, hanging out, coloring. There’s no school that could take her around here, and none of us want to send her away to one of those facilities. I guess I thought by keeping her home, she was more protected.

Guess I thought wrong.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I mentally berate my mother. “I appreciate that,” I say, smiling at Amanda. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replies, as we both watch Hannah slide her finger along the plastic menu, taking her time to read each item carefully. “Your brother tried, I think, but he’s not you.”

I cross my arms over my chest, nodding. “Pike’s always needed someone to tell him what to do.”

“Must be a lot to have on your shoulders, that burden of responsibility. Especially at your age.”

“Honestly, I feel like I’m about a hundred years old these days.”

“Have you started drinking again?”

“Most people are too scared to ask that,” I say, amusement lifting one side of my mouth into a smirk.

“Leonardo Bentley, I used to change your diapers when you were a baby. I’m not scared of you.”

I chuckle at that.

“Besides, I know your real name. I have currency.”

I look around, making sure we’re not in earshot of anyone. The back tables are clear.

“The Sheriff came digging around the garage yesterday,” I say quietly. “I think he thinks I’ve got something to do with Jennifer’s disappearance.”

Amanda’s momentary smile vanishes, replaced by a deep frown. “Jesus, Leo.”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful what you say. Be careful who you talk to. You have a lawyer?”

I nod.

“Good. Make sure you warn them. It’s a packed lunch trip from any other town to here.”

That hangs in the air between us for a while as Hannah finally makes her selection from the menu, humming a song as she waves us over. Amanda waves back, diverting one of the waitresses I don’t know over to the table.