Page 27 of Did You See Evie

“What time was that?” Reynolds asks.

“I fell asleep a little after midnight,” I say. “Most everyone else was asleep by then or close to it.”

“And the girls woke you up around four?”

“That’s right.”

“So, we’re working with a span of four hours,” Mr. Lake says, thinking out loud. “She could be anywhere. And you’ve already checked the school?”

“Barely. I ran up and down the halls, poked my head into some of the classrooms, but that’s it. I wanted to wait until someone else arrived before I did anything.”

“Maybe we should call the police,” Reynolds says. “Time is getting away from us, and?—”

“We’ll contact them after we’ve looked ourselves,” Mr. Lake says. “I want to be able to tell them we did everything in our power first.”

Rather, he wants to be able to tell the school board he did everything he could before involving the police. Their participation escalates everything. Instead of a mischievous teenager roaming the halls after hours, we’re talking about a runaway or a possible abduction. And it was while the students were supposed to be safe within the confines of the school.

My stomach is tender with regret. We shouldn’t be in this situation at all. If I’d done my job, I would have kept a better eye on all the girls, especially Evie. How could something like this happen under my own watch?

“I’m searching the school,” I say, looking at Joanna. “Are you coming with me?”

“She can stay back with me,” Mr. Lake says. “I know you’ve already talked to the girls, but I’d like to ask my own questions. See if we can figure out what happened here.”

I’m shaken at the thought Mr. Lake is deliberately trying to separate Joanna from me. Does he not believe our recollection of events? Is Coach Reynolds only here to help split the truth from lies? He’s the person I’m convinced wants to oust me from my job, and now he’s here to witness my biggest mistake unfold in real time.

“Guess that means I’m with you,” Reynolds says, sounding slightly less aggravated than I feel.

“Fine,” I say, heading back toward the main corridor. “Let’s go.”

We don’t speak until we’ve exited the gym and are approaching the first classroom door along the main corridor.

“Have you already checked in here?” Reynolds asks me.

“Yes,” I say, begrudgingly. “I’ve checked everywhere.”

“I think we should search each room together. Every closet. Under desks. Anywhere we might not be able to see her.”

I’d said as much when I was talking to Joanna, but it’s irritating hearing this logic come from him. Obviously, Evie wouldn’t be hiding from us for this long—no middle grade dare would warrant that. Now I’m wondering if maybe she is hurt. Could she have fallen and bumped her head? Suffered some other injury that causes her from calling out to us?

“Does Evie have any medical issues? Allergies or diabetes, maybe?”

Clearly, Reynolds is thinking along the same lines as I am. “No. I take notice of every girl’s medical history. I have to, considering how much we travel.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, opening a closet door in the back of the classroom. Empty. “I get how coaching works.”

“The only girl on our team with any type of medical issue is Amber.” I exhale in frustration, trying not to show that he’s bothering me. “Peanut allergy.”

In the midst of my anxious confusion, a memory comes to the surface. Last year’s summer workouts. We’d stocked the gymnasium refrigerator with Gatorades and Uncrustables to keep the girls fed during workouts. That lasted one full day before Melinda Terry came to the school complaining that our cheap snacks were putting her daughter’s health at risk. She offered to fund lunches for the rest of the week on her own dime. Even for an affluent private school, that deal was too good to pass up, regardless of her mother’s rude method of delivery.

I remember Evie’s reaction when she heard we were going to trash the rest of the sandwiches. She’d simply been grateful for a quick meal. I ended up sending the rest of the boxes home with her, hoping they’d keep her full until school started up again. Thinking of that look on her face, I smile, but the memory is quickly replaced with anguish over the unknown.

“If Evie’s been gone this long, it’s probably because she was hurt,” I say, my mind already going to the worst.

“Did anything happen earlier in the night? Maybe some of the girls got carried away? Evie could have hit her head on something.”

“Are you interrogating me?”

“No. I’m simply trying to get a better idea of what happened.”

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