Page 88 of That's Not My Name

always

ruin

everything.

Through the pinkish glow of my eyelids, darkness creeps in, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, no matter how hard I try and claw myself back. I can’t do this. I have no fight left.

I think of my family back home, how badly they must want to see me again. I hear them calling my name, looking for me, and one final piece clicks into place.

I know my name.

TWENTY-SIX

DREW

I’m sorry. You have the wrong person.

The words bounce uselessly around my brain. I don’t understand. How could a girl who looks like Lola—same age, same hair, same eye color, same one-of-a-kind jacket—somehownotbe her? Does she have a doppelgänger running around?

What are the chances of even three of these coincidences happening together?

Officer McCurry seems to feel the same, because it’s not two full seconds before he’s on his feet. “Stay here,” he says. “I’ll talk to him.” He follows Officer Bowman into a copy room in the back.

I watch him through the big interior window. The two men stand beside the copy machine, talking in low voices. The three of us lean forward, equally desperate to hear what they’re saying, but all we get is a lot of flailing limbs—Officer McCurry—and resigned looks—from the other guy.

Every time Officer McCurry’s lips move, Officer Bowman shakes his head.

“Doesn’t look like Redhead is winning this one,” Max mumbles.

I stand and look around the precinct, but none of the other officers have come back yet. I have to get closer, or I’ll never know what’s going on. So I slip over to the back wall, away from the window, and slide over until I’m right outside the copy room door, pressed to the wall.

“This doesn’t look right to me,” Officer McCurry says. “What are the chances you picked up a girl who looks exactly like this five nights ago? What if the girl you picked up is Lola Scott?”

My whole body goes rigid.

Papers rustle, and Officer Bowman sighs over the noise as he jabs at copier buttons. “The girl I picked up is Mary Boone. She’s a seventeen-year-old from McMinnville, and her father provided at least half a dozen forms of identification for her. Without complaint. He’s a sometimes-local who owns one of the fishing cabins. I verified it myself.”

“How sure are you?” Officer McCurry says. “Sure enough to dismiss what these kids are saying?”

Damn, it’s nice to have a person with some kind of authority saying everything you wish you could say.

“Of course not,” Bowman says with a sigh. “But do you think I would have let a teenager out of here if I had any question about whose custody I was releasing her into? She got her head scrambled in that accident. You should have seen her. She couldn’t even remember her name. Do you think I’m going to let someone that vulnerable into the hands of anyone that walks in here claiming to be her family? Do you think I’d be that careless?”

Officer McCurry is quiet for a moment. “Of course not. That’s not what I’m trying to imply…it’s just… These kids, you know? They have one hell of a story, and too much of it adds up. There are too many similarities and eyewitnesses. I can’t brush it off because you disagree.”

“I’m not asking you to. Check it out for yourself. I’ll even bring you up there. I promised to check in on Ben Hooper’s wife and give her an update before the end of the day, and the Boones live right next door. You can come with me, and we’ll stop in and see Mary and her father.”

“Yeah…okay. That’s reasonable.”

“I wish I had better news for you. And for them. Lola Scott and Mary Boone arenotthe same person.”

The finality in his voice makes all our evidence feel thinner, less substantial.Lola Scott and Mary Boone are not the same person.He says this like it’s fact. Like there’s no other possibility, and it’s a chore having to bring Officer McCurry to the same conclusion.

“In the meantime,” Officer Bowman continues, shuffling papers again, “these kids need to go home. I really wish we could do more, but they won’t help their friend by getting in the way. Ask for their phone numbers and you can update them once you’ve checked it all out, but they don’t need to be here.”

Fuck. I grab my head with both hands, but I can’t stop the looping in my brain.

Lola Scott and Mary Boone are not the same person.

---