Page 91 of Did You See Evie

And I do. It’s overwhelming to be that young and think about confronting an adult. It’s the same paralyzing fear that allowed me to put up with my father’s abuse for so long. I enabled his behavior out of love for him, out of worry that stepping out of line would only make things worse.

I think of the day Nadia hid behind my bedroom door, my basketball trophy gripped between her fingers. She was ready and willing to attack. That’s the spirit we’ll both have to channel if we want to overcome Melinda Terry.

“Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay,” I say, trying my best to comfort an anxious Evie, even if what I say isn’t true.”

She holds the rock at her side, using her other hand to thumb through the pictures in the box.

“You know, I used to always think Amber had this perfect life. Looking at these photos, I still think that. You’d never guess her mom is capable of doing what she’s done to me.”

I sift through the pictures, too, trying to make Evie feel a little less alone. I don’t know how to explain to her that looks can be deceiving. That even though Melinda seems like a perfectly loving mother, there’s all sorts of danger simmering beneath the surface. Part of me realizes I don’t have to tell her that, because she already knows. She’s been exposed to ugliness in her own home; the Terrys are just better at hiding it.

“What’s this?” I say, picking up one of the photographs. It’s much older. One from when Melinda herself was still a girl.

“What’s wrong, Coach?”

I’m too stunned to speak. All I can do is stare at the picture.

That missing piece has just fallen into place.

FORTY-SIX

Evie and I are putting the pictures back into the cardboard box when we hear a sound from upstairs. It sounds like a door closing, followed by footsteps.

Evie jumps back immediately, pulling her legs forward, assuming the same position she was in when I first woke up. It strikes me just how frightening the past week must have been for her. Melinda is giving her food and water, but that comes with an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. Evie never knows what to expect, and it must be frightening.

“Everything will be okay,” I tell Evie, resting my hand on her knee. I’m surprised by how confident my voice sounds. Inside, that same uncertainty has infected me, and I can feel my chest rising and falling in panic.

The basement door creaks open. Heavy footfalls descend the stairs, one at a time, accelerating my sense of doom. Evie and I scramble to put the pictures back inside the box. Evie manages to hide the painted rock inside her hoodie pocket just before Melinda comes into view. When she appears, she looks haggard, an exhausted version of the put-together woman I’m used to seeing at school events and in the gymnasium stands.

“Good,” she says to me. “You’re awake.”

“How long have I been down here?” I ask.

“A couple hours,” she says. “I had to get the damned movers out of here. I was hoping we could talk.”

“What about?”

“Everything. Does anyone know you’re here?”

“No,” I say. Coach Reynolds knew I was going to make contact with the girls’ families, but I never told him where I was going. Nadia is the only person I spoke to after my conversation with Beth, but she doesn’t know my exact location. I try to swallow down the feeling of being stranded so I can focus on the conversation ahead. “This entire situation has spiraled out of your control. Let me help you fix it.”

“There is no fixing it!” Melinda shouts. “Everything happened so fast. After I hit Evie, I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid if I let her go back into the building, she’d tell everyone what I did.”

“That’s why you brought her here,” I say, trying to keep the conversation going. If I can keep her talking, maybe she’ll see how ridiculous the ordeal has become.

“Right! It’s not like I was trying to kidnap her. I was just trying to buy myself time and figure out what to do. By the time I returned to the school to pick up Amber, the police were already involved. I panicked.”

“What were you doing at the school that night?” I ask her.

“It’s hard being a parent. Kids these days grow up so fast, and they have access to so much technology, it overrides any kind of rules or boundaries I try to put in place. I try so hard not to be a helicopter mom, but it’s hard when they’re being exposed to so much.

“I knew Amber was communicating with boys online. I kept telling myself I’d address it after the championship game. The last thing I wanted to do was distract her before that. The night of the lock-in, I saw the messages between Amber and the boy planning to meet outside the school. I knew I’d waited too long to confront her, and I had to stop her from making a horrible mistake.”

“How were you able to see her messages?”

“I downloaded an app onto her phone. She doesn’t know it’s there. Any message she sends from her phone or on social media, I’m able to see,” she says. “I’d been trying to download the app for weeks but couldn’t do it without her knowing. I lost my cell phone after the championship game. I used her phone to try to track mine, and it gave me the perfect opportunity to finally install the app.”

My throat swells. I was the one who stole Melinda’s phone. It was a moment of domination over a woman I felt had everything together, a relapse to my earlier years of stealing and deceiving, chasing the thrill. Even before the lock-in, my actions helped put this whole thing into motion.

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