Page 36 of Her Wicked Knights
Excitement lights in Mrs. Clark's eyes. "You know her? Have you seen her?"
"We go to school together," I explain. "I haven't seen her since the end of last year, back in May."
A sense of unease washes over me as I study the missing poster. I have a lot of questions, but I don't know if it's rude to ask, so I clear my throat. "What is it?"
"I just... I haven't seen her. But maybe I can help somehow? When was the last time you saw her?"
"Yesterday morning. I had a conference in Boston, so I drove into the city. She was supposed to meet me for dinner at Brew Club for dinner because she loves their pretzels, but she never showed up. I reported it to Boston PD, but they said they can't do anything cause there's no proof she ever made it to Boston."
I bite my lip, trying to wrap my head around that information. Jenny's always seemed like a good girl; I don't think she's stand her own mother up for dinner. But then, I don't really know her. We just have a few classes together, and she lent me ahair tie once in gym. It's hardly enough to make a judgement about whether she'd possibly run off with someone for a few days. I mean, kids our age run away all the time, right? Audrey's slept over at my house more than a few times without us ever planning ahead; maybe Jenny's just with a friend and her phone's dead.
"I know my daughter. This isn't like her. Your father's on the case, but I can't just go home and wait without her..." Mrs. Clark's voice cracks, and the man I presume to be her husband slings an arm around her shoulder to pull her into him.
"I'm so sorry." I tell them helplessly. "I haven't seen her, but I'll keep an eye out and give you a call if I hear or see anything."
I take the flyer and snap a photo of it on my cell. But Mrs. Clark places her hand over top of mine before I can push it toward her. "Keep it. Please. Share it with someone... I need to find her. I need..." She sucks in a deep breath, shakes her head. "Please."
"Of course." I agree.
"May I take a look?" The customer from earlier asks.
I'd forgotten he was even here still, and his voice makes me startle as Mrs. Clark snaps her head to him. "Yes, please!" She rushes over to where he's sitting and presents another paper in a flourish, hope in her eyes. It quickly dies as he makes a soft humming noise and shakes his head.
"Sorry," he frowns, looking up at her carefully. "I haven't seen her."
"Keep it." She tells him earnestly. "And call me or the police if you do?"
"Sure." He agrees, tipping his head to make it clear that's the end of the conversation as far as he's concerned. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ten-dollar bill,, flashing it for me to see before turning to go.
"Your change!" I call after him, but he's already nearly at the door.
"Keep it."
I turn my focus back to Mrs. Clark. "Can I get you a coffee?" She looks like she hasn't slept in too long; her eyes are red and makeup is smudged beneath her eyes, the remnants of what didn't wash off with her tears. "On the house?"
"No." She shakes her head. "My stomach couldn't handle it right now. Just... keep an eye out. Please?"
I nod, and she leaves me with a stack of papers to hang up around The Dive.
Hector decides to go home early, and I agree to lock up since everything is pretty much done anyway.
When I step out into the balmy summer night and lock the door behind me, I turn back to hang the missing flyer right beneath the diner's logo. And as Jenny Clark stares back at me from that flyer, a chill passes over me.
Surely nothing bad happened to her. Nothing badeverhappens here.
But the feeling deep in my gut tells me otherwise.
20
Colton
AmIsurprisedthatmy 'girlfriend' is late to her own damn party? Not really. I am annoyed, though, since she invited half the damn town and now they're askingmequestions.
"Hey, Colt," Mark calls to me from the front door. "Where do you want the keg?"
"On the beach." I tell him, nodding my head toward the back door. I don't bother asking how he got a keg, assuming it's easy to get a fake ID in college. But then I see the man behind him, and it all makes sense.
That fucking psychopath Whit grins at me like we're old friends, shoving some of his hair out of his face. "Colt."
