Page 66 of That's Not My Name

Which means by the time anyone follows up, it’ll be too late. I can’t let this happen.

I stop at the corner to smooth out my flier and check my phone. It’s almost one. Max will be leaving school soon to pick me up, but I can’t think of a next step with the weight of failure pressing down on me.

I can’t believe how stupid I am. Ihadhim before I slipped up about the recording. Maybe I should have anonymously dropped the USB into the station mailbox. Maybe then they would’ve sprang into action. Or maybe I should have given it to Autumn. Maybe he would have believed it if the information came from her. I turn and kick the stop sign.

Screw him, if Roane won’t follow up, someone else should. Maybe three someones.

I set off down the sidewalk with newfound determination. I jog the last five blocks until the school pops into view. I spot Max coming out of the building as I reach the parking lot. The fluorescent yellow of his T-shirt is impossible to miss. His head is down, phone in hand. I slow to a walk so I can grab my phone from my pocket and sure enough, a text comes through.

Max: Hey man. I’m on my way.

Me: Look up.

Max squints at his screen for half a second before he spots me. He throws up his hands. “How’d you get here?” he yells over the cars between us.

I ignore his question and meet him by the hood of the Liberty, my breathing heavy. “Where’s Autumn? I found something.”

Max doesn’t ask any questions, just wheels back around and speed walks toward the school doors. “Maybe still in the cafeteria,” he says over his shoulder.

So that’s where we go. The halls are packed with kids. I feel theireyes on me. Glares. Double takes. People I’ve partnered with on lab projects, former teammates, members of our old friend groups, all stop to stare at me as I walk by. Today, it’s easier to ignore. Today, I’m going to find Lola, and everything will go back to normal.

We pass long stretches of blue lockers and open classroom doors as we make our way to the other side of the school. We reach the double doors of the cafeteria. Two huge windows sit beside each door. Max stops in front of the first and presses his nose to the checkered safety glass.

“I think I see her in the back,” he says.

Sure enough, Autumn’s fluff of red hair catches my eye. She’s wearing an oversized white sweater and doesn’t look like she got much sleep.

She gathers her trash and chucks it into the garbage behind her before wading into the mass of kids leaving for their next class. When she’s about twenty feet from the door, she spots us and her eyebrows shoot up. She tugs a wireless headphone from her ear, and I wonder if she was listening to more recordings.

When she’s through the doors, I press a finger to my lips and jerk my head toward the hallway behind us. This isn’t the place to talk about anything we want to keep to ourselves. We duck into the first empty classroom we can find, and it happens to be the History 12 room. Mr. Moore must be on lunch this hour.

My eyes go straight for Lola’s empty desk again.

“What’s going on?” Autumn asks, half talking, half whispering.

I smooth the crumpled flier across one of the student desks in the front row and place my phone on top of it. “I found a witness.”

They blink at me and Max’s mouth falls open. I press play on Meredith Hoyt’s recording. They both step closer, almost in sync, when she mentions the jacket.

When it ends, I tap my flier. “A girl matching Lola’s descriptionexactly—short brown hair, green eyes, floral jacket—was seen at a diner yesterday.”

Max scrubs his face with his hands. “Holy shit, Drew. I mean… It’s been a long time and I started to think…”

She was dead.I meet his gaze and he looks away, like he’s ashamed to have thought it at all. “I think everyone did,” I say, letting him off the hook.

Autumn hasn’t taken her eyes off Lola’s picture. She looks terrified. “What does this mean? Like…she’s with some old man? Why? Is she in danger?”

My stomach churns, thinking someone is holding her against her will. “Lola wouldn’t just take off without her phone, without telling anyone.”

“So what now? We take this to my dad, right?” she says, pulling her thick hair into a ponytail with the elastic on her wrist.

An angry twitch runs through my jaw. “No, I already went to the station. He didn’t want to hear anything about it. He threw me out the second he realized I stole the recordings. He thinks I’m making it all up, trying to cover my ass.”

“The fuck?” Max yells, then looks behind him at the now-empty hallway and lowers his voice. “Why would you do that? Handing him information you stole from his office only brings you more trouble.”

I shrug. “He doesn’t want this to be a bigger crime. He actually said, ‘We’re not looking for Ted Bundy’ or some shit.”

“Someone at the station is bound to listen to the tapes soon though, right?” Max asks. “They have their own copy. They’ll hear this and go after her, right?”

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