“Th-thanks,” I mutter.
“I meant what I said that night,” he growls. “About giving a shit.”
Gabe perks up. “What’s this now? What are we giving shits about? You two fucking now?”
Liam ignores his friend, which I know will only make Gabe more curious and ravenous for information. I decide that that’s Liam’s problem, though. He can deal with his gossip-queen best friend.
I’ve got somewhere I need to go.
I don’t give Liam a response other than a pained look before I turn and hurry toward the parking lot where I know his car is. I hear Laurel demand to know what’s going on, but I’m confident Liam won’t bother to even respond to her. He’s not like Saint.
So why can’t I be stupidly attracted to him?
I push the unhelpful thought from my mind as I reach his sleek, black sports car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I turn the key and the engine roars to life. I scour my brain, remembering the route Ghost drove when he took me to that house to meet Jenn. Driving, I pay close attention to every turn, every recognizable tree and landmark. Things appear familiar, which is a good sign that I’m going in the right direction.
A breath of relief escapes me when I find the hidden driveway. Turning up it, I spot the house and my heart begins to pound in anticipation. Not in seeing Jenn again, necessarily, but at confronting her and Ghost about what’s going on.
I turn the car off and hop out, the weed-choked gravel of the driveway crunching under my feet as I race for the front door. It’s unlocked, so I burst through into the house.
“Mom?” I call. “Momma, you here?”
I bolt into the room I’d met her in the last time I was here, and then move beyond it into another part of the house. I search all over, and even make my way to the second floor on the rickety stairs, but there’s no one here.
Other than that moldy, damp couch and armchair, the place is completely empty.
I make my way back out the front door at a slower pace, then down toward Liam’s car. While I realize it shouldn’t surprise me that Jenn and Ghost aren’t here, the disappointment is still crushing. There’s a blossom of worry that blooms in my stomach as I think about my mom and what Ghost might be doing to her. I’ve heard the way that bastard speaks to her.
And I can’t help but feel that she’s in danger somehow.
I’m tense as I drive back to campus. The trip back to that house was a huge waste of time, and I’m no closer to knowing what Jenn’s up to or if she’s okay. After I park in Liam’s spot, I drop my head to the steering wheel and close my eyes.
A few minutes later, a knock on the window startles a cry out of me. I shoot back up in the seat to find Liam gazing through the glass at me, his brows furrowed.
Son of a bitch.
He backs up to give me room to exit the BMW.
“Have you been waiting here for me?” I ask, frowning.
He shrugs. “Not for you. For the car.”
That’s obvious bullshit, but I don’t point it out to him. I hold out his keys and he takes them. “Thanks,” I mumble, dropping my gaze to the pavement.
He nods but doesn’t say anything in return. This feels so painfully awkward. I’m still angry at him, but I’m grateful that he didn’t push for more info from me and was so willing to blindly help me. I can count on one hand the number of people in my life that would do that for me.
“If you need help with anything else,” he gruffly says, “you can ask me.”
I swallow but still don’t look at him. “Appreciate it.”
There’s so much more the two of us could and should say to each other, but neither of us appear willing to take the first step into repairing whatever might be left of our odd little friendship.
It’s not too long before I can’t take it anymore.
“Well, thanks again,” I say, and it sounds lame.
I move past him to head to my dorm.
“Yeah,” I hear him say softly as I walk away. “No problem.”
The rest of that week, all I can think about is Jenn. I alternate between fear for her safety and anger at her for jerking me around like this. Still, as objectively awful a mother as she’s been, I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.
What if Ghost hurts her? They really seem to hate each other, which also makes me wonder why he’s even working for her. There’s definitely something bigger going on, and I’m starting to doubt that Jenn is actually pulling any of the strings.
On Friday, I’m jittery and on edge as I still haven’t heard a word from either Jenn or Ghost, and my imagination is running away from me. I can’t stop imagining all these terrible scenarios where Jenn is strung out and left for dead—or is being tortured by Ghost or raped. It makes my stomach twist and bile rise in my throat, and I have to tell myself not to jump to conclusions over and over again.
The anxiety in my chest is becoming a familiar weight as I walk into my dorm room after classes are over. It’s been another long week, though apart from my worry for my mom, not a very eventful one.
When I step into my room, I move toward my desk to rest my backpack in my chair and freeze when I see a sticky note attached to a larger piece of paper waiting for me. With cautious fingers, I pick up the unwelcome surprise and read the note.
I never forget a face.
I frown. Is this from Saint?
I can tell by the feel of the other paper that it’s a photo. There’s writing on it under the sticky note, but I ignore that for the moment and flip the picture over.
The image that greets me is at once familiar and shocking. It’s a picture, almost exactly like the one that was left for me by the pool, except the three most important figures are standing in a different pose. Mr. Angelle has his arm around Benjamin’s shoulders, and Benjamin is holding onto Nora’s hand.
Nora is smiling softly, and I know in that moment that Jenn lied to me. That first photo wasn’t a fake, and this one isn’t either. The edges are faded with age.
Remembering the writing on the back, I flip the photo over and read the graying words.
Jameson Angelle and Benjamin Jacoby – Angelview Academy Seniors
Eleanor Mallory – Ravenwood Preparatory Senior
Ravenwood Preparatory is one of Angelview’s nearby rivals. Nora was a student at Ravenwood, not Angelview.
That’s why I didn’t find her in any of the yearbooks.
That’s why she appeared to never have existed in this school because she didn’t.
After months of searching and questioning, the feeling of finally finding something, even just a small something like this, is euphoric.
I’m actually a step closer to figuring this whole mystery out, even if it’s just a baby step.
And I have Saint to thank for it.
I also realize that Jenn was definitely lying to me. More questions begin to flood my brain to replace the few I just answered.
Where did Saint get this photo?
Why was Jenn trying so hard to make me think that she wasn’t Nora? That she didn’t know Saint’s father? That everything she’s ever told me—from her name to her age to where she was born—is a lie?
And, most important of all, the biggest question that’s been burning in my mind since I received that first picture.