Page 13 of That's Not My Name

Max pulls out ahead of me, and I watch him disappear down Main Street. I should be right behind him. I should go home to family dinner because it’s the right thing to do, and it’ll make everyone happy. But I’d rather eat my fliers than face my family right now.

I circle around the outside of town, careful to stay far from the river. I park in a neighborhood in the opposite direction from home and gather the fliers from the backseat.

Time to piss off some homeowners’ associations.

Because Max is only half-right: The fliers probably won’t lead me to Lola. But theyaresomething. They’re proof that I kept looking. And when she comes home, everywhere she goes, there’ll be a picture of her face and my phone number, and she’ll know that I never gave up. Which is the only thing I can give to her now.

I grab my backpack and the stapler from the backseat and get to work, tacking her face on every telephone pole and stop sign I pass until a streetlight flickers on above me. I look up in surprise. It got dark fast.

I look up and down the road. I’ve zombie walked straight into Lola’s neighborhood. In fact, her cul-de-sac is a block ahead of me.

The dwindling pile of paper in my hands feels like lead.

I shouldn’t get any closer. I know that. Her family is suffering enough. They don’t need to see me lurking twice in one day. I zip my supplies into my bag, but my feet take me to Lola’s corner on their own. I’ll only stay a minute.

The Scotts’ big gray Craftsman sits one house down. The downstairs lights blaze warmth across their wide porch and perfect lawn. Nothing moves beyond the glass and the driveway is empty, so I take a few steps into the road.

I remember the first time I saw this house. When Lola introduced me to her parents. The place seemed so imposing with its big windows, glossy white porch swing, and manicured hedges. It doesn’t look imposing anymore. It looks sad. Like the walls themselves feel the absence of the girl in the corner bedroom the same way I do.

The light in her room tugs at a familiar hole in my chest. Lola left it on the night she disappeared, and her parents haven’t touched it since. It’s like they can’t bear to cast what’s left of her in darkness. I understand and hate it at the same time. I wouldn’t be able to turn it off either, but seeing that window illuminated on the second floor messes with myhead every time. It tricks me into thinking she might have come back, that she’s in there, talking to Autumn about what a jerk I’m being or the history midterm.

But Lola’s not in there, my minute is up, and I don’t belong here. This town is full of places I don’t belong anymore.

I turn and find a red Wrangler idling in the road behind me. Every bone in my body turns to stone as Mr. Scott locks eyes with me over the steering wheel.

For one wild heartbeat I wonder if he’s going to run me over and put us both out of our misery. But instead, the Jeep pulls past me into the driveway. Mr. Scott parks and crosses the lawn in long strides.

I brace for his anger, but he stops on the sidewalk and practically whispers, “Come here.”

The fact that he doesn’t yell is somehow twice as terrifying as if he’d screamed in my face. Getting closer is the last thing I want to do. I can’t even meet his eyes; how am I supposed to talk to him?

I take slow steps, dread hanging from every part of my body, until I’m standing in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” He doesn’t sound as furious as I expected. He sounds…hollow. His eyes are bloodshot, and his cheeks are gaunt. He’s wearing a button-down shirt, but the skeleton man beneath it looks like he’s trying to disappear, same as his daughter. The passenger door of the Jeep slams, and his wife stops at the back of the vehicle. She looks straight through me.

Guilt wraps around my throat and squeezes. “Fliers,” I croak.

“Why won’t you leave us alone? Haven’t you done enough?”

Yes.

The strangest urge to defend myself bubbles over me. I respect the hell out of this man. Always have. I don’t want him to look at me theway everyone else does. “I’m trying to find her. Same as you. Mr. Scott, I’ve eaten a million meals at your house. Our families went camping together last summer. You went to every one of my swim meets. Youknowme. And you know I’d never hurt Lola. Not ever.”

His glare sears into me, and I think he might regret not running me over when he had the chance. “The kid I knew would never have left her alone at night. He wouldn’t have waited until the next day to call and see if she got home okay. He wouldn’t stop cooperating with the police. I don’t know you at all.”

The truth of his words slams into me and tightens the grip this guilt has on my throat. I couldn’t speak if I tried.

He takes a long measured breath, but before he can say more Mrs. Scott appears behind him, her fingers wrapping tightly around her husband’s arm like she needs the support to stand. Wide green eyes bore into me. “Just tell us what you did, okay? Tell us where she is and let this all be over. I…we can’t…I need you to tell me what happened,” she pleads. “The sheriff is saying there’s little hope after all this time. They’re looking for a body, and we don’t know if that’s the right call. Everything in us is screaming to keep looking forher. Andyouare the only one with the answers.”

Jesus. They should have hit me with the car. It would have been less painful.

I can’t make a single word form on my lips. I don’t have any answers. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t know how to breathe.

Mrs. Scott chokes out a sob. “For god’s sake, Drew. She’s my fucking child! Just tell me where she is!”

“I swear I didn’t hurt her. I swear on my life!” Bile rages up my throat. “I’m sorry I came here. I’m not trying to hurt anyone, least of all you or your family.”

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she wipes it with the back of her hand.

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