If You're Out There(43)

Samantha rolls her eyes, smirking. “Cherry tomatoes you cut in half. Cucumbers, maybe a quarter of an inch thick. Olives are ready to roll, just refill the bin when they’re running low.”

“I see cabbage,” says Logan. “Impart your wisdom, Samantha. What do I do to the cabbage?”

“You cut it,” she says, straight-faced. “And then stick it in a bin.”

The volume to the music lowers. “Hungry, flaca?”

When I turn back, Manny is pulling yucca from hot grease. “Sure,” I say. “Thanks.” He slides the dish across the window and I gobble up a few chalky, salty bites.

Manny steps out from his cook’s lair, wiping grease onto striped pants as he takes the place beside me. “He’s okay,” he says, nodding toward Logan after a thoughtful silence. I smile. For Manny, that’s a pretty major compliment.

My mind jumps to Lacey and her rumors. And the look on la Se?ora’s face today in the hall. I should have pressed her. What had she meant by “more trouble”?

I’m not sure how much time has passed when Manny whistles and starts slipping aluminum containers through the window. Arturo comes over and stacks them up in a big paper bag, then staples it shut. He calls out, “Sam, you want to bring this out to Reggie?”

I perk up. “Reggie’s here?”

“Who’s Reggie?” asks Logan.

I take the bag myself. “I’ll bring it to him.”

“You know you’re not on the clock,” says Arturo.

“Uh-huh,” I say, hurrying out through the swinging doors.

Reggie’s waiting by the Please Wait to Be Seated sign in gym clothes, a duffel bag on one shoulder. “Can I ask you something?” I say without a hello. It feels like a sign that he’s here. I have to tell him about Priya. I can’t keep it in anymore.

He takes the paper bag. “Um, sure. What’s up?”

I look around. “Out there,” I say, pointing to the street.

I hurry for the door, pulling him by the arm.

It’s getting dark. “Zan,” says Reggie, staring me down. “What is it?”

A young couple is walking toward us on the sidewalk. As they pass, I take a big breath. “How do you know if you should report a missing person?”

His chin juts back. “What?”

“You know her. It’s my friend Priya. She used to be a server here.”

“Oh right,” he says. “I’ve worked with her stepdad, actually.”

I frown. “What do you mean you’ve worked with Ben?”

“At the community center. Last spring. He started coming in for the Thursday self-defense class. Somehow this place came up and we figured out the connection.”

“Huh,” I say. “I didn’t know that.”

“I thought they moved,” says Reggie.

“They did.”

Reggie looks worried now. “Okay, back up. Did Ben not file a report? I’m happy to be a resource, but he should really go through the precinct out there.”

“Well, okay.” I brace myself. “So, no one else actually thinks she’s missing. Right now she’s at some boarding school. I mean, allegedly. But I haven’t been hearing from her and her posts online have felt weird. She’s my best friend, you know? And I really . . .” I hold his gaze, eyes pleading. “Reggie, I really don’t believe she’d cut me off like that.”

“So. Let me get this straight.” I see the sequence move across his face: understanding, relief, sympathy. It’s obvious he’s working to look like he’s still taking me seriously. “Your friend moved away and stopped staying in touch?”

I break from his dubious stare as a streetlamp comes on. “Yes.”

“And now you’re wondering if you should file a missing person’s case.”

My mouth falls open stupidly. “Well. When you put it like that.”

He holds my gaze, gentle. “Come on, Zan. You must realize how this sounds.”

“Okay, yeah,” I say. “I know. But there’s more. I kind of . . .” How to put this? “Okay, so I sort of broke into her old house and—”

“You what?” Reggie takes a step back. “Zan, why would you tell me that? I’m a cop!”

“I know,” I say, bracing the air between us. “But it wasn’t that bad. The back door was open and I didn’t take any—”

“La la la la,” he sings, plugging his fingers into his ears, the takeout bag hitting his shoulder. He starts walking down the street and I follow, waving my hands to get his attention.

“Okay,” I say. “Okay! I won’t get into details.”

He unplugs his ears and stops. “No more illegal stuff, okay? And definitely no telling me about it after.”

“All right. But, well, the thing is, I found a weird note inside their house and—”

“Just stop,” he says, his voice booming with authority. “Has anyone talked to Ben lately?”

My shoulders slump. “Yes.”

“Is he worried about Priya at this boarding school?”

“Well, no, but—”

“What about other friends? Is there anyone else who’s concerned?”