Page 12 of That's Not My Name

“We should get out of here before someone calls Roane,” Max says.

I know he’s right, but I can’t tear my eyes from the tree line. The crowd keeps growing. Almost fifty now, as more and more people emerge from the forest.

Please don’t be here with them.

My fingers tap an anxiety rhythm on the steering wheel.

“Drew? Come on. We don’t have to go to family dinner, we can go wherever you want. I’ll buy us some ice cream. Whatever it takes to get you out of here. Please?”

I sigh and reach for the ignition as the crowd parts and a tall figure steps from the trees. The sight of him chills like a bucket of ice water straight down my spine.

And now I’m nauseous.

“Ohshit,” Max whispers. “Her mom’s here too.”

I watch them join the others. Mr. Scott looks like half his hair has gone gray since September, and his wife has lost so much weight the breeze coming off the river might be enough to carry her away. She clutches her black coat at the base of her throat and pushes her long dark hair out of her face. Someone says something to him, and Mr. Scott turns and glowers at me. Like a living skeleton, promising to haunt me until the day I die.

My face burns with shame. This man, who knew me almost as well as my own parents, and still turned on me like everyone else.

I slam the Trooper into gear, make a U-turn, and take off.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Neither of them were supposed to be here.

Who’s still looking for Lola?

“Are you okay?” Max asks, carefully. Like he spent a long time choosing his words.

I shake my head, taking the corner too fast. “You were right. I shouldn’t have come here.”

FOUR

DREW

Itake Max back to the library. He doesn’t speak the whole drive—must have killed him—but he also doesn’t move when I double-park by his Liberty, so I know it’s coming.

I wave a hand at him. “Go on, say what you want before I get a ticket.”

He fumbles with his seatbelt, twisting it in his hands like a piece of licorice. When he lets go, it rolls up into the holder with a clatter. “You know I love you, and I don’t want to sound like I’m not on your side here, because I am. But showing up to the boat launch like that makes you look guilty. You get that, right?”

I want to argue with him, but I can’t. So I say nothing at all.

“The bad guys always return to the scene of the crime, and that’s all anyone saw when you pulled up. Guilty Drew. Not to mention your dads are going to flip when they find out you were there, and my days will be numbered when my mom finds out I spilled the beans. All in all, this wasn’t a great move.”

I trace the emblem on the steering wheel with my thumb. I hate that he’s right. “I know. I’ll keep quiet if you do?”

He blows out a big breath and shakes his head. “As far as I’m concerned we got a Blizzard. And that’s what I’ll say if they ask me, but dude, get your shit together.”

I nod, my stomach filling with acid and regret. “I need someone to find her.”

“We all do. But this isn’t how to do it. Use that big brain of yours and find another way. Today’s search doesn’t mean anything. She’s been gone a long time. Everyone’s grasping for answers in whatever way they can.”

“But they’re wasting time, Max. Every hour spent in those woods is an hour they’re not getting any closer to her.”

“So give Roane fewer reasons to worry about you, and more reasons to look elsewhere.” He points his thumb toward the mess in the backseat. “Are those fliers really helping Lola? You’re not the only one who needs her to come home safe. We’re all struggling, and we can’t lose you too.”

He gets out and slams the car door. In the sudden silence, I almost wish he’d come back.

Almost.

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