Page 32 of Did You See Evie

I return to my car, drive down the street and park in a spot situated between the two buildings. It’s not the best plan, but in this moment, my only option seems to be to wait and see if Nadia arrives.

After twenty minutes, my phone buzzes, and I hope against hope that it’s her. Instead, the call is from Connor. We’ve not spoken since he surprised me at the school last night. I’ve been too distracted to even think about calling him.

“My goodness, Cass. I just heard about Evie,” he says. He sounds breathless. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know how to feel,” I say. “All I want to do is figure out where she might be.”

As I say this, my eyes guard the doors, watching as an older man exits one apartment and heads toward his car. Still no sign of Nadia.

“What are the police saying? The school?”

“We’re all waiting for information at this point,” I say. “Last I heard they were still trying to track down her family.”

“Evie’s the one with the bad home life, right? The one we gave a ride home on Monday night.”

“Yes,” I say, a recollection of my own upbringing flashing through my mind. I shake the memory away. “There’s no telling what might have happened. All we know for sure is that she was last seen at the lock-in.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Connor says, his voice somber.

But I can, and I do. If my actions put Evie in danger, it’s on me to fix this.

That’s when I see her. Nadia is walking around from the parking lot, heading toward the building on the left. She’s staring at a phone in her hands, I’m guessing a brand new one.

“Look, Connor. I have to go,” I say. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“Aren’t you at the house?”

“I was this morning, but…” I can’t focus on watching Nadia and talking to Connor at the same time. “I have to go.”

I cut the call, easing out of my car and padding across the street to get behind Nadia.

There’s no escaping me now, not until I get answers about what happened to Evie.

SEVENTEEN

Nadia’s several steps ahead of me. I keep my distance, assessing her every move. She walks slowly, with confidence, unlike someone who just committed a major crime. It’s her calm demeanor that’s always helped her get away with things.

When we were younger, I was the one with raised anxiety. Looking over my shoulder, afraid someone might have seen what we’d done. Nadia was always cool and collected, just as she is now.

Her fingers tap away on the cell phone in her hands. Clearly, she’s in contact with someone, even though the number she gave me no longer works. Her thumb glides across the screen. I wonder what she’s looking at, who she’s communicating with.

As we approach the opening of the apartment building, she pauses, putting the phone into her pocket. She dials a code into the security box, and a minute later the door beeps. She reaches for the handle.

“Are you following me upstairs?” she asks.

She’s staring straight ahead, but she must be talking to me. There’s no one else on the street. I’d tried to be quiet and put enough distance between us, but she still knows I’m here.

“I think that would be a good idea,” I say.

The conversation we’re about to have shouldn’t take place in public. A small niggle of apprehension courses through me. I suspect Nadia of a horrendous crime; most people wouldn’t be comfortable being alone with her, but I understand Nadia. Even if she’s connected to what happened to Evie, she’s not going to hurt me.

“How’d you find out where I live?”

She turns to face me now, holding the glass door open so that I can walk through it.

“I went back to the liquor store,” I say. “The cashier said he’d seen you walking in this neighborhood.”

“So much for living off the grid,” she says.

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