Page 34 of The Missing Half

“That’s good,” Jenna says. “I think you might be getting better at this.”

“Well.” I scratch Banksy behind the ears. “I’m learning from the best.”

—

Jenna needed to swing by her mom’s place to drop off some medicine, but even with the errand, it’s less than an hour later when we pull up to the address Mrs. Perkins gave me over the phone. Lauren’s house is a two-story red brick with an American flag flapping out front and one of those green, summery wreaths on the door.

Jenna and I are out of the truck and walking up the front path when the garage door rumbles open and a white SUV pulls into the driveway. I see Lauren behind the wheel. She parks in the garage, gets out of her car, and slams the door behind her. She looks like an almost different person today, so unlike the pristine woman we saw last week at church. Her hair is pulled into a limp ponytail, unwashed strands falling around her face. She’s wearing jeans and an oversized button-down with a smear of what I imagine is spit-up on her shoulder.

“No!” she calls as she starts walking toward us. “I cannot talk to you. How did you even find me?”

I knew Lauren wasn’t going to be happy to see us again so soon, but this reaction is a shock. “I-I’m sorry if this is a bad time,” I stammer. “We—”

“Bad time? Bad time? My husband’s out of town and I’m taking care of two kids on my own, who are in the car right now and—” She waves a hand. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I need to get my kids in the house, and you two need to leave.” She turns and starts striding back to her car.

I give Jenna a confused look that she mirrors back at me. Maybe we went a little far by getting Lauren’s address from her mom, but surely that isn’t what has elicited this extreme of a response.

“Lauren,” Jenna says. “Is everything okay? What’s happened?”

Lauren whirls around. “Look, Nic, I talked to you because Kasey was my friend. But I am not getting wrapped up in whatever it is you guys are doing. I have two kids, and I am not putting them in any more danger. We were doing fine, and then the moment you came along—” She stops short. “Please just leave.” She presses a series of buttons on a little pad on the wall and the garage door starts to close.

“Wait!” I call out to her. “The moment we came along, what?”

But she’s already disappeared from view.

“What the fuck?” I say, turning to Jenna. “ ‘Any more danger’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Jenna says. But I can tell she does. We both do: Sometime in the last week, something scared Lauren into not wanting to talk about my sister.

Chapter Eighteen

It’s the middle of the day, hot and sunshiny, and Lauren’s neighborhood is alive with summertime. Kids laugh and shout in the distance, the sprinklers in a nearby yard make a rhythmic beat, and somewhere a few blocks away, I can hear the tinkling song of an ice cream truck. Despite all this, I feel a chill of fear.

Jenna looks around. “Let’s talk in the truck.”

“What do you think happened?” I say once we’ve climbed in and closed the doors. “Do you think someone talked to her?”

“Or did something else,” Jenna says. “But, yeah, I think someone tried to scare her. And it obviously worked.”

“Jesus. This is because of us. Just like Lauren said. I mean, what’re the odds that we approach her about all this and then less than seven days later, someone else just happens to do the same fucking thing?”

“But how would anyone know what we’ve been doing?” Jenna says. “I haven’t told anyone. Have you?”

“No. But, I mean, we’ve talked to people. Wyler, McLean—McLean! It could’ve been him.”

“Maybe, yeah.” Jenna screws up her face. “But Lauren already gave us his name. If it were him, why wouldn’t she just say it?”

“Maybe she didn’t know it was him. He could’ve called or left a note or something.”

“And you’re sure you haven’t told anyone else?”

“Yes, of course I’m…” My voice fades.

“What?” Jenna says.

“Nothing. I just realized I mentioned it to Brad too, but—”

“Who’s Brad?”

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