Page 28 of That's Not My Name

“Because it’s become increasingly clear that leaving town wasn’t her idea, Drew. We’ve cleared everyone else connected to Lola. Her family, the clerk at the convenience store, those she had conflicts with at school, even visitors staying at the hotels in the area. We’ve talked to everyone, and you’re the only suspect we have left. Also, and I can’t stress this enough, Idon’tbelieve you. You say she simply got out of the car, but why would she want to walk all the way home from here? It’s at least three miles back to her house. Why would you let the girl you love walk home in the middle of the night by herself?”

My mouth goes dry. The kind of dry that seizes up the rest of me.

I say nothing.

Roane smiles like he’s won and looks out at the shrine. “I have reason to believe you had something to do with this. I’ve had a feeling since day one, but there was still hope she may have needed a break from all the fighting at home and run away, that we’d find her alive and well. As your lawyer keeps telling me, you’re an upstanding kid with ‘no motive.’ So we looked at all the other options before zeroing in on the honor student swim team captain. But now, I finally have the evidence I need to prove you’re involved in Lola’s disappearance.”

What the hell?What kind of evidence?

“I may not be able to prove you hurt heryet, but you and I both know you’re to blame.”

Theyetrings in my head. But for once he and I are in agreement.

I am to blame.

I unbuckle my seatbelt. The click is jarring in the silent cruiser cab. “Lola didn’t just vanish, and she didn’t run away from home. She got out of my car, and…something happened to her. Something that didn’t involve me or my car. Lola’s story doesn’t end at this boat launch, and neither should your investigation.”

He slips into a deadpan cop face. “Why’d she walk home, Drew? What made her get out of your car?”

My epic stupidity.But I don’t say that. “Do me a favor—don’t talk to me again without my dads or my lawyer. If I’m your last real suspect, act like it. Talking to a minor without a guardian or legal representation is illegal, right? Then again, you’ve never been good at your job before, so why start now?”

He laughs and I slam the door in his stupid face. The sound of his mocking amusement carries across the empty parking lot through his open window.

It’s a laugh that saysJust wait, you little smartass, I’ll get you for this.

And he’s probably right.

NINE

MARY

DAY 3

It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep and an eggless meal will do to lift your spirits. I look down at my half-eaten breakfast—cinnamon toast and a sliced banana. I smile, picking up the last piece of toast.

Wayne sits beside me, reading a newspaper and finishing off his third cup of coffee. I like this, sitting together and enjoying our morning.

It feels familiar, and without the catastrophe of yesterday, I love it.

I roll my shoulders back, rocking the sleep from my tired muscles. I ended up going to bed pretty early last night. Wayne made dinner—chicken and potatoes with little crispy bits of garlic on them—and eating expended the last of my energy. I was in bed before he finished the dishes. I fully expected to zombie walk into the kitchen this morning; instead I woke up feeling lighter, more alert, more capable than I had since the purgatory ditch.

I finish my toast, except for the crusts, as Wayne chuckles to himself and folds the paper. “Headlines crack me up,” he says.

“Why?”

He lays the paper on the island and points to the big bold letters at the top of the page.MAN EATS OWN SOCKS IN COURT TO VALIDATE INSANITY PLEA.

“Oh gross. Did it work?”

“Nope. Got ten to fifteen for home invasion. At least he was creative though.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it. Disgusting is another. He’s going to regret that decision in a day or two. I’ll stick to toast.”

I toss my crusts in the trash and put my plate in the sink. Through the window, the river catches my eye. It’s super pretty in the morning, with the sun bouncing off it. I watch it for a moment before I turn back to him. “Do you need the bathroom?” I ask. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He looks at me over the rim of his coffee cup. “Nope. I’m good.”

I snatch the new bag of clothes from my room and slip into the bathroom. I’m so excited to put something on that’ll actually fit. In a way, these new things are more mine than anything else because I can remember their whole life with me. I can’t say that about any other possession.

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