Page 35 of Love Me Steadfast
“I’ll help you look.”
Turning him down is on the tip of my tongue, but he’s already in motion. “Let’s check the parking lot and work our way back up.”
“Good idea,” I say. We funnel into the dwindling crowd heading for the exit. The upbeat mood is evident in the bright conversation and laughter from everyone we pass, but it only makes me more anxious.
“What was she wearing?” William asks. Normally he keeps upfine with what Wren calls my “speed demon pace,” but maybe his pool slides are slowing him down.
“A red halter top and jeans. Cowboy boots.”
William nods, his eyes fixed on the parking lot.
A long line of cars are queued up, red brake lights glowing in the darkness. In the parking lot on either side, clusters of kids linger in the shadows, their laughter ringing in the air, and family members wait for their football player to emerge from the locker room. Morgan’s not in any of them.
“Let me just drop off my stuff,” William says, turning toward the closest row of parked cars. Zach, Sofie, and Linnea are huddled with Barb and Henry Hutton. When they see William, their faces light up.
“Congrats, Will!” Sofie says.
“Thanks,” he replies with a bright smile before dropping his gear into the back of the pickup.
“Hey, Charlie.” Zach shoots me a kind smile just as William says, “I’m gonna help Charlotte look for Morgan.”
“You need help?” Zach asks, his eyes going alert.
“No thanks,” I reply quickly. If Morgan’s MIA because she’s starting trouble, the last thing I want is help from a cop.
“Be right back,” William says to his brother. They lock eyes for an instant, and Zach nods.
We turn for the row of idling cars, exhaust curling into the night as it creeps forward. I scan for a head that could be Morgan’s.
A driver of a black jeep calls William’s name. He trots over. They slap hands and William asks about Morgan. The guy shakes his head.
Where the hell is she?
I walk alongside the row of cars, scanning, scanning. Then—two cars from the front of the line is a pickup truck with three people in the cab. The middle occupant is shorter, with sleek dark hair.
“Morgan!” I call over the idling engines. The truck creeps forward. I take off running.
“See her?” William says, falling in next to me, his sandals slapping against his feet.
“I think so. In that truck.” I point.
William races forward just as the truck pauses at the bottom of the exit, its left blinker flashing. He thumps the side of the truck with his palm. “Hold up!” he calls.
The driver jerks to a stop and whips his big head out of his window. He’s scowling, his dark eyes narrowed.
“Is Morgan in there?” Will asks before the guy can say anything.
A squeak comes from inside the cab. Morgan?
I get to the driver’s side window. The truck is so high off the ground I can only see the girl’s forehead. She’s covering her face like she can hide, but I recognize her chipped yellow nail paint. The guy on the other side of her has his arm across the back of the seat. Almost like he’s ready to scoop my sister into his lap the second they’re off school property.
“Morgan, get out of the truck!” I say, my hands on my hips.
William locks eyes with the driver. Nobody says anything, but the guy jerks his chin at his friend. “Let her out.”
“The fuck?” the guy protests. A horn honks from behind us, startling me and inspiring a wave of horn honking up the row.
“Do it, man,” the driver says.
