“Don’t go far,” another paramedic says. “That puppet kid too. The cops will want to know everything you can tell them!”
Someone walks me over to a folding chair, and I sit there, waiting, when my phone buzzes.
“Hello?”
“Oh my God.” Dakota sighs into the phone. “She’s all right,” I hear her say to someone else.
“Where are you?” I ask. “I’m on the outside of the maze. There’s a bunch of people.”
“On my way to you.” The phone cuts out.
It’s only a few minutes before Dakota is crouched at my side, her hands folded in my lap. “I snuck behind the police tape,” she tells me, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses even though it’s dark outside. “I ran into Matt and Ches outside the maze. They were waiting for you to finish.”
I shiver and she runs her hands up and down my arms, trying to warm me.
“Faith, do you know how long you were in there for?”
I shake my head, all of it catching up to me at once. Getting separated from Johnny, finding Gretchen, flying . . .
My phone rings again. “It’s Matt,” I say.
“Faith? Faith Herbert?” A tall black woman with a sleek bob in black jeans, boots, and a down jacket holds her hand out for me to shake. “I’m Detective Wallace. Do you have a moment?”
I look down to my phone.
“I can answer that for you,” Dakota says gently.
“Okay.”
Dakota takes my phone, and Detective Wallace pulls up another folding chair from the ones the corn maze workers use for smoke breaks.
Things feel suddenly quieter as I realize the ambulance is long gone. One by one, though, news trucks begin to pile up.
“Is there an adult I can call for you?” Detective Wallace asks.
“I’m basically eighteen,” I tell her, even though my birthday isn’t for another few months. As if my brain isn’t cluttered enough, I’m suddenly worried about someone calling Grandma Lou while she’s in the midst of one of her . . . episodes.
“Basically eighteen isn’t eighteen,” she assures me.
And when I don’t respond, she says, “Well, listen, you’re not a suspect or anything. Can you just tell me exactly what happened? Are you cold?”
I nod.
“Can someone get this girl a trauma blanket?”
After I’m wrapped in a foil blanket and sufficiently resemble a burrito, I tell Detective Wallace exactly what happened. Well, except for the whole flying part. I keep that bit to myself.
“What happened to Johnny? Did he make it out?” I ask.
Dakota touches a hand to my shoulder, and I realize she’s been standing behind me this whole time. “He made it out. That’s how we all knew something was wrong. He looked for you for a long time,” she says.
“And you are?” Detective Wallace asks.
“Dakota Ash. I’m, uh, here with the TV show that’s in production.”
“Oh.” Detective Wallace nods. “I’ve seen you folks around.”
“And she’s a good friend of mine,” I add.
Dakota squeezes my shoulder. “Detective Wallace, would it be all right if I got Faith home? It’s been a long night. I’m sure her grandmother is worried.”
Detective Wallace eyes me thoughtfully before handing me her card. “I’ll probably call this week with a few more questions.”
“And what about Gretchen?” I ask. “Is she okay?”
Detective Wallace lets out a long sigh. “Can’t imagine what might have happened to her. I wish I could tell you she’s going to be just fine, but the truth is I don’t know.” She stands and I do too.
I almost find myself telling her about the stray dog that was brought into All Paws a few weeks ago and how his condition reminds me so much of Gretchen’s, but I feel silly for even thinking the two could be linked. For all I know, that dog was hit by a car or something.
“And Faith,” she adds. “The department will be making a statement soon, but we’ll be leaving your name out of it. I wouldn’t talk to the press if I were you.”
“That’s something we can agree on,” Dakota says.
“Okay.” I nod. “Thanks for the, uh, space-suit blanket.”
That gets a brief smile out of her as she walks past me to a swarm of officers.
Dakota takes the blanket, which hangs limply in my arms, and stuffs it in the trash. “Matt and Ches left already. They wanted to stay, but the police were trying to clear the place out.” She coughs into her fist. “Johnny too.”
“Okay.” But I’m more worried about the swarms of reporters forming in the distance. There’s no way I’m going to be able to make it past them without an onslaught of questions and cameras in my face. I get it. They’re doing their job, but I just wish their job tonight wasn’t trying to get an on-camera interview with me.
Dakota recognizes the hesitation written all over my face. “Yeah, I’m not really looking forward to that wall of reporters either.” She scans the scene. “Gimme a minute.”
It only takes Dakota a few minutes to return with a scruffy guy in a Carhartt jacket who works for the actual farm. “Faith, this is Kevin. He’s going to take us through a back path on his golf cart.”
“Thanks,” I tell him.
He grunts. “Follow me.”
Kevin leads us to the most tractor-like golf cart I’ve ever seen, bright red with huge wheels. There’s only enough room for a driver and a passenger, since the back is meant for hauling equipment.
Dakota motions for me to get in, and after I do, she hops up, hovering above my lap. “Do you mind?” she asks.
“Of course not,” I tell her.
She sits down in my lap. “Promise you’ll hold on to me?”
“I swear.”
Kevin hops in and we’re off.
Dakota’s body rocks back against mine and I loop an arm around her waist, and despite how exhausted I am, something in me hitches with excitement.
“I got you,” I tell her, my voice raspy.
“I know,” she says.
Kevin whips us around the maze so quickly that there’s nothing scary about it. He takes us right past the mass of reporters to the parking lot, where Dakota’s car is one of the last vehicles standing.
My hair whips in the wind and I rest my head against Dakota’s back. If this is it, if this is as far as our friendship goes, I’ll always be thankful for this night when she swooped in and took care of me in a way I haven’t been taken care of since my parents were alive. It’s not that Grandma Lou and Matt and Ches don’t love me. It’s just that none of them have ever made me feel quite like this, like I could just turn my brain off and let someone else take the wheel.
When Kevin drops us off, Dakota fishes her wallet out of her back pocket and hands him a few bucks. He nods a thanks and takes off the moment our car doors shut behind us.
“Dakota?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“Can we just drive around out here with the sunroof open for a little while?”
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“I just need some time,” I tell her. “I just need some quiet time to process, I think.”