Page 80 of That's Not My Name

Compared to that, Roane is a kitten with a butter knife.

Max turns north up the highway. “I think I can hear Roane calling my mom from here. She’s going to kill me.”

“We’ll die together then.”

He gives me a grateful look and shuts off his phone, dropping it into the cup holder like the useless brick it is now. I start to do the same, but what he said sinks in. My dads won’t kill me, but not knowing where I am right now is certainly killing them. I should have been home from school three hours ago. I imagine Dad sitting on the stairs again, watching a door that won’t open again tonight.

At least Roane knows Autumn is safe. Relatively. I mean, we are chasing a kidnapper.

I open the family group chat and skim all my dads’ questions and demands to know where I am while I sort out my response. Their lasttexts beg me to call them, and it hurts to read the pain in their messages. I don’t dare listen to the voicemails or I won’t have the resolve to finish this.

I don’t want them to worry. They deserve to know what’s going on.

Me: i’m sorry. i know ur worried and i wouldn’t have done this if i had any other choice. i’ll be home soon but not tonight. i’m safe, Max is safe, Autumn is safe.

Me: we found something important.

I send the grainy photo of Lola in the diner with that pointy-nosed asshole.

Me: the scotts needs to see this. she’s alive, and she was in waybrooke yesterday

Me: two witnesses saw her, and one spoke to her. Roane won’t look into it so we’re searching for someone who will. we’re so close, i can feel it. tell mr. scott that Roane is messing up. tell him to go to the precinct and ask for an update. tell him we’re looking

Me: I’m sorry but i have to do this. i have to find her or it’ll kill me.

Me: i’m being safe, i promise. i love u both so much

Me: i’ll see u tomorrow.

I shut off my phone, knowing with absolute certainty this is the worst thing I’ve ever done to them. The guilt of that chases me up the highway.

TWENTY-THREE

MARY

DAY FIVE

Rain starts falling from the slate-gray clouds as I retch onto the dirt. Like the storm is trying to wash away what happened here, but it can’t.

Nothing can undo this.

Wayne killed Ben Hooper.

He sent me inside the house, and he killed him.

Wayne is a murderer.

All I can see is Ben Hooper’s smiling face. His poor family hanging the same fliers that Bowman gave to the manresponsiblefor his death an hour ago.

Oh my god.

Is this why he didn’t have his jacket when he came into the house yesterday? Did he get it bloody, hacking this poor man to death? Stash it in the woods, so he could pop in to play devoted dad like nothing happened? What then? Did he wait for me to take my nap to sneak back outside to dig this grave?

I’m over here trying to convince myself that Wayne couldn’t have taken me from my mom because he’s never raised his voice to me; meanwhile, he’s stashingbodiesin the yard. I’m such a fucking idiot.

I glance at the hole in the debris. Ben Hooper’s eyes stare up at the storm like he can’t believe what happened to him any more than I can. If Wayne can do this, and then come inside and smile like none of it ever happened, what else is he capable of?

And what is he planning to do to me?

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