“Good. That’s good,” he replied. “Meet me in my office in fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks,” I replied, already wondering what I was going to tell my friends about bailing on my own homework assignment. Not that they would mind. Clearly, they were all about helping me. And hopefully, what I had to tell Mr. Hathaway wouldn’t take long. Hopefully, once I dumped my whole, sad, sordid story on him, he’d jump into action and my work here would be done. Ideally, by the end of tonight, the police would be involved and Noelle would be back home, safe and sound.
Five minutes later, I raced across the frigid, deserted campus, my hands clasping my collar closed under my chin, keeping my eyes on the shoveled cobblestone pathway to avoid icy patches. I’d been so distracted that I’d gone out without my hat, scarf, or gloves and now, every inch of my exposed skin screamed out in protest. But even in my discomfort, I already felt at least a hundred times lighter, a hundred times more awake, a hundred times more alive. And at least I was still wearing my big, old, warm boots.
In minutes, I would be unburdened. Hathaway would know all. And yes, I might get punished for forming the Billings Literary Society, but I hardly thought that would be his main focus, what with Noelle’s life hanging in the balance and all. Besides, as long as she was found and she was okay, I didn’t care if they expelled me from this stupid school.
Sniffling and gasping for breath, I sprinted up the outdoor steps to Hull Hall. My hand had just grabbed the metal door handle when I heard scuffling footsteps behind me. Then, out of nowhere, a large gloved hand reached past my shoulder and shoved the door closed again. I whirled around and found myself face-to-face with a big, burly police officer. The fleece collar of his dark blue jacket was flipped up around his stubbly cheeks and he wore a wool hat low over his brow. His badge was pinned to the left lapel of his coat, and it shone, thanks to the security light above the door.
“Reed Brennan?” he said gruffly.
Behind him, two other officers scurried up, out of breath. Had something happened to my family? To Josh? Was this about Noelle?
“Yes?” I said.
The officer whipped out a pair of handcuffs, grabbed me by the arm, and swung me around in one, swift motion. I was so surprised I went temporarily blank, my vision blurring over and my head going weightless. He lifted my bag off my shoulder and tossed it down the stairs, where one of his buddies caught it. Then the cold metal closed around my wrists.
I was being handcuffed. Why was I being handcuffed?
“Wait!” I blurted, finding my voice. My heart spiraled around in my chest like a tilt-a-whirl gone horribly off the track. “What’re you doing? What’s going—”
“Reed Brennan,” the cop said in my ear, “you are under arrest for the murder of Noelle Lange.”
Noelle is not dead. She’s not. She’s not, she’s not, she’s not.
“You have the right to remain silent,” the cop said, grasping my shoulders and flinging me around. My stomach swooped as my foot slid off the top step in front of Hull Hall. I stumbled forward, down the stairs, and right into the waiting arms of the other two officers. One was short, fat, male, and whose breath smelled like cheese. The other was a scrawny woman with dark hair and a zit on her chin the size of Plymouth Rock. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
“No, no, no, no wait!” I shouted. My mind reeled in ten different directions as the cops dragged me to my feet by my upper arms. I looked around for someone, anyone, to see me—to help—but there was no one around. “What happened? Where did you find her?”
“Kid, I’m not supposed to say this,” the gruff cop said, straightening his gloves as he descended the stairs after me. “But you really might want to remain silent.”
Cheese Breath and Zit Lady pulled me forward, manhandling me around the corner and to the back of Hull Hall, where an unmarked police car waited, idling in the small, faculty-only parking lot. I wrenched my neck, trying to look over my shoulder at the window of Headmaster Hathaway’s office. I could see that the light was on and I willed him to look outside. To save me just like I’d been hoping he’d save Noelle.
But now, Noelle could not be saved. Because now, Noelle was dead.
Just like Thomas. Just like Cheyenne. Visions of funerals and wakes and black clothes and dark limousines and bawling friends flashed through my mind. Visions of a life without Noelle. It wasn’t possible. It was not possible.
I wanted my mom.
“Wait,” I said. “You can’t just take me. You have to tell the headmaster. You have to call my parents.”
“Done and done, kid,” the original cop said. Zit Lady got into the back seat and slid all the way to the opposite door, while Cheese Breath shoved my head down and practically kicked me in the shin to get me to join his friend. As I bounced onto the seat, I felt my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. I’d started to keep it there for the last couple of days, so I’d be sure to always have it on me. “We’re going to the station.”
Then, the door slammed. “She’s not dead,” I said, as the lead cop sat down behind the steering wheel. Cheese Breath dropped down next to him and picked up a fast-food drink from the floor to take a nice, long sip. How could he suck down root beer at a time like this? “She can’t be dead. Tell me where you found her. Tell me what’s going on.”
But they merely slammed their doors and then, just like that, we were peeling off into the night, leaving the lights of Easton Academy winking in the rearview mirror.
I sat back in the seat and tried to breathe, the muscles of my upper arms crying out in protest at being forced into such an odd angle. I knew the route to the Easton Police Station well, having been there many times after Thomas’s disappearance and Cheyenne’s death. I wondered if Detective Hauer still worked there. I practically salivated at the thought of seeing a sympathetic face right then. I needed to talk to someone I knew. Someone who had long since learned that Reed Brennan was not capable of murder.
Murder. Noelle had been murdered. Someone had murdered Noelle. Had it been painful? Had she known it was coming? Had she been scared?
Tears blurred my vision as the car whizzed through the green light at the bottom of Main Street, Easton. I caught a glimpse of the illuminated light posts that marked the front of the Easton police department, halfway up the hill. Suddenly, I was sitting up straight.
“Where’re we going?” I asked. “The station is back that way.”
I saw Gruff and Cheese Breath exchange a look. Zit Lady sighed and looked out her window.
“No one said we were Easton PD,” Gruff said, taking a turn so late the tires squealed. I was flung into Zit Lady’s side, and she shoved me off her as the car righted itself again.
My heart was now officially in overdrive. “If you’re not Easton PD, then who are you?”
“We’re state police,” Cheese Breath replied, taking another sip of his soda. “Kidnapping and murder are a bit bigger than local jurisdiction. Now how about you just sit back and shut up?”
I slumped down, feeling as if I’d been slapped. Was it normal for cops to be so outright rude? I’d just found out my best friend was dead. But then, I guess to them I was a murder suspect, which made no sense at all. Noelle had been alive this time last week. I’d seen a video of her. And I had an alibi for pretty much every second of my life since then. Besides, I had no motive, no reason on Earth to kill Noelle. What kind of evidence did these people think they had against me?
“Where are you taking me?” I asked, keeping my voice as even as possible. Outside the window there was nothing but trees. We were on some kind of dark country road with no lights, no gas stations, no nothing. One lone, chipped sign read: SOLDIER WOODS CAMPGROUNDS, 2 MILES.
“That’s for us to know and you to find out.”
Suddenly, Gruff yanked the wheel to the right and we were on a skinny, one-lane road winding through the woods. After about five minutes, we came to a clearing, and a big, abandoned house loomed in fron
t of us. It looked like something out of a movie about the old south, all white plank siding, slanted roofs, and dormered windows. But all the windows were boarded up, the plank siding was chipped and rotting, and the slanted roof on the north side had completely collapsed. The iron fencing around the snow-covered garden was bent, battered, and rusted, and the stone steps to the green front door had crumbled in spots, leaving a pile of debris at their foot.
Gruff stopped the car and the two men in front got out. Zit Lady stayed where she was, avoiding my gaze, but blocking me from making a play for her door. Gruff yanked open the door on my side, grabbed my arm, and dragged me out. Only then did Zit Lady emerge from the car, jogging ahead to the house. She stepped over the broken bits of stairs and shoved open the front door.
“What is this?” I demanded, trying to wrench free from Gruff’s grasp. He held firm, tripping me forward toward the house. “Where are we? Shouldn’t we be at a police station right about now?” I asked, as he guided me up the stairs.
I’d seen enough cop movies to know that this type of unexpected twist was not good. Were they bringing me here to coerce a confession out of me?
“Our job was to get you off campus and bring you here, kid. The FBI guys’ll be here any minute to pick you up,” Gruff said. He shoved me through the door, where the old, wooden floorboards creaked beneath our feet. There was one chair in the center of the parlor room off to the right and he deposited me onto it. My phone jammed into my butt cheek and I winced, but no one seemed to notice. There were no lights on in the place, but the moonlight poured through the huge windows behind me, lighting the room. It felt even colder in here than it had outside, as if the heat hadn’t been turned on in ages. Still, Gruff took his hat and gloves off, tossing them atop the half-wall dividing the parlor from the front hall. His brown hair stood straight up on the sides as the three of them stood before me, forming a semicircle of stern faces and crossed arms.
“In the meantime, how about you tell us what, exactly, happened to Noelle Lange?” Zit Lady said, speaking for the first time. She walked around behind me and I heard a jangle of keys as she unlocked my handcuffs. As they fell away, I whipped my hands quickly into my lap, savoring the freedom.
“I thought you said I had the right to remain silent,” I replied, rubbing my wrists.
“Oh, you do. It’s just … if you tell us the truth now, we might be able to help you cut a deal later,” Zit Lady said, slowly walking around my chair.
My heart started to pound. “I watch The Closer, you know. I’m not an idiot. You’re trying to get me to confess without a lawyer around.”
Zit Lady snorted a laugh. “You don’t want to talk, fine. You can tell it all to the FBI when they get here.”
My palms started to sweat. Okay, think, Reed. What could be the harm in telling them what had really happened? They were the cops, right? Cops didn’t want to arrest the wrong person. They wanted to punish the people who actually did the crime. If I told them my story, they’d have to believe it. Because A) it was true, and B) who could make up a story like that?
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll tell you everything.”
Cheese Breath leaned back against the stone fireplace on the far wall, settling in to listen to my story. The other two merely stood there, just feet away, and listened intently while I spoke about that night in the chapel, the text messages, the assignments. By the time I was done, I actually felt a little better. The pressure that had been permeating my chest for the past several days was gone. I’d finally spilled the whole thing.
“And that is the whole true story,” I said, lifting my chin as I looked each of them in the eye.
Zit Lady and Gruff glanced at each other. Then, ever so slowly, Zit Lady leaned over me. “That, my friend, is the saddest, most ridiculous load of crap I have ever heard.”
And then they started to laugh. A huge sob welled up in my throat, choking off my air supply and bringing a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. Cheese Breath doubled over, as Zit Lady wiped tears of mirth from her face.
“Kids today,” Gruff said, shaking his head as he walked by me and out the door.
His two friends started to follow, and my entire body seized up with fear.
“Wait! Where’re you going?” I demanded, my words broken and choked.
“We’re going to leave you in here for a little while to think about whether or not you want to repeat that little piece of fiction to the FBI,” Zit Lady said. “Don’t worry, Miss Brennan. We’ll be back. Eventually.”
Then the door let out a loud creak and slammed shut behind them.
“Wait! You can’t just leave me here!” I shouted.
But their laughter was growing softer and softer. I heard the three car doors pop as they got in the car; then I heard the engine rev. They didn’t pull away, however. Probably just sitting out there with the heat blasting, retelling my story and laughing their asses off. I looked around the room for the first time, the moonlight streaming through the window behind me affording the only illumination. The floor was covered in dust and the rest of the windows on this level had been boarded up. I wondered if the cops had locked the door behind them. Then, I looked down at my hands. They had uncuffed me. They had left me alone inside a house with who knew how many doors and windows, completely free to move around.
It was as if they were begging me to run. What the hell kind of cops were they?
I got up from my chair, my heart pounding in every one of my veins. Could I run? Where would I go? Did it even make any sense? I hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe these losers refused to believe me, but the FBI would have to. They had zero evidence against me. None. As much as my flight reflex was urging me to take the opportunity and get the hell out, my logic got the better of it. I had nowhere to go. At least, nowhere they wouldn’t find me. My best bet was to stay here, try to keep warm, and wait to see what happened next.
Just as I made this decision, my phone beeped.
I jumped halfway across the room and fumbled it out of my pocket.
ASSIGNMENT NUMBER FIVE: BEHIND THE HOUSE THERE’S A GATE. YOU’LL FIND A NOTE TUCKED THROUGH THE LOCK. THIS NOTE WILL LEAD YOU TO NOELLE.
First my heart sunk into my toes. A fifth assignment? They had said there would be four. But then, just as quickly, my skin started to sizzle. The cops were wrong. Noelle was alive. I could still save her.
And just like that I knew. I knew like I knew my own birthday. Those people were not cops. They were in on this somehow. They had brought me out here, left me in the house alone, so that I could get this text and be sent off on the latest mission.
Adrenaline racing through my veins, I turned around and stepped to the side of the window, peeking around the frame. The cops were still sitting in their car, gabbing away, the overhead light on in the backseat so I could see Zit Lady’s laughing face. Did they know I’d already gotten the text? Were they supposed to follow me if I fled? The thought of those three trailing after me in the dark was not one I relished. All I knew for sure was that right then, no one was even looking in my direction. If I wanted to get out of here on my own, it was now or never.
On my way to the back of the house, I grabbed Gruff’s hat and gloves. The floorboards seemed to grow louder as I raced down a hallway, through a decrepit old kitchen to the back door. I tried the knob, but it was locked, the windows boarded over. Desperately, I whirled around, looking for another way out. Something moved in the corner of my vision and I flinched, but it was just an old, flimsy curtain, billowing in the breeze. I brought my hand over my heart and took a deep breath.
Wait. The breeze. That meant there was an open window.
I raced out the side door of the kitchen into an old, dusty library. The window behind the desk on the far side of the room was broken, with no board to cover it. I reached up and used all my strength to turn the lock, which had been painted over about ten thousand times. Finally, it cracked free and I was able to shove open the huge frame, using both hands and all my body weight
.
Far preferable to climbing past the broken pane. But I would have done it, if I’d had to.
I stuck my head out and glanced toward the front of the house. I was well out of view of the driveway and the car. I tugged Gruff’s gloves on over my frigid fingers, pulled his still-warm hat down over my ears, and climbed out. My snow boots sunk into the six inches of untouched snow outside the window. I took one second to ponder how completely insane this all was, and then I turned and ran.
The white scrap of paper was there as promised. It had been rolled into a tiny scroll. My fingers shook as I extracted it from the lock, knowing someone must be watching me, as they had been all along. I could practically feel them breathing down my neck. I clasped the note in one hand and removed my glove so I could open the note. Tilting it toward the light from my cell phone, I read the words that would hopefully lead me to Noelle.
TAKE THE PATH INTO THE WOODS. DO NOT VEER FROM THE PATH. YOU’LL SOON COME TO AN UNLOCKED SHED, AND THERE YOU WILL FIND FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.
Further instructions? Why couldn’t they just give it all to me now?
Cursing under my breath I shoved the note into my pocket and pulled the glove back on, squinting into the woods behind the gated yard. I knew it must be pitch-black under the cover of the thick trees, but what could I do? I wasn’t about to go back to ask the bad guys for a flashlight. Right now, all that mattered was finding Noelle. If she was out there, alone in the woods somewhere, she was probably terrified and about to freeze to death. There was nothing to do but go forward.
I unlatched the gate and pulled it toward me. It let out a squeal roughly the same decibel level as a sonic boom. Behind me, I heard a shout. That was when I started to run. I raced across the small space of snow between the fence and the woods and dove under the low branches crossing over the path, my foot slipping out behind me in the wet snow. My breath already came in ragged gasps, as if I had sprinted a mile in ten seconds. One glance over my shoulder told me no one was gaining on me, no one was on my tail. But then I saw the footprint I had left in the snow and realized it would only be a matter of minutes. In this terrain, they could track me anywhere. Besides, they probably knew where I was headed anyway. My only hope was to get them off my tail. To confuse them long enough that they’d give up—long enough that they’d leave me out here alone to do what I had to do.