#1 - Page 32 (1/2)

Her mother takes a step outside and pulls the door shut behind her so that I can’t see inside at all. “That’s none of your business,” she hisses. “Get the h.e.l.l off my property!”

“Is she here or not?”

She folds her arms over her chest. “If you aren’t out of my driveway in five seconds, I’m calling the police.”

I throw my hands up in defeat and groan. “I’m worried about your daughter, so can you please put your anger aside for one minute and tell me if she’s inside?”

She takes two quick steps toward me and pokes a finger into my chest. “Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!”

Jesus Christ.

I push past her and kick open the door. The first thing I’m hit with is the smell. The air is stale. A fog of thick cigarette smoke fills the air and a.s.saults my lungs. I hold my breath as I make my way through the living room. There’s a bottle of whiskey open on the bar, sitting next to an empty gla.s.s. Mail is scattered across the table—what looks like several days’ worth. It’s like this woman doesn’t even care enough to open any of it. The envelope on the top of the stack is addressed to Charlie.

I move to pick it up, but hear the woman stalking into the house behind me. I make my way down the hall and see two doors to my right and one on the left. I push open the door to my left, just as Charlie’s mother begins screaming from behind me. I ignore her and make my way into the bedroom.

“Charlie!” I yell. I glance around the room, knowing she isn’t here, but still hoping I’m wrong. If she isn’t here, I don’t know where else to look. I don’t remember any of the places we used to hang out.

But neither would Charlie, I guess.

“Silas!” her mother yells from the doorway to the bedroom. “Get out! I’m calling the police!” She disappears from the doorway, probably to retrieve a phone. I continue my search for…I don’t even know. Charlie obviously isn’t here, but I keep looking around anyway, hoping to find something that could help.

I know which side of the room is Charlie’s because of the picture of the gate above her bed. The one she said I took.

I look around for clues, but find nothing. I remember her mentioning something about an attic in her closet, so I check the closet. There’s a small hole at the top of it. It looks like she uses her shelves as steps. “Charlie!” I call out.

Nothing.

“Charlie, are you up there?”

Just as I check the st.u.r.diness of the bottom shelf with my foot, something slams against the side of my head. I turn, but immediately duck again when I see a plate fly out of the woman’s hand. It crashes against the wall next to my head. “Get out!” she screams. She’s looking for more things to throw, so I put my hands up in surrender.

“I’m leaving,” I tell her. “I’ll leave!”

She moves out of the doorway to let me pa.s.s. She’s still yelling as I make my way down the hall. As I walk toward the front door, I swipe the letter off the bar that was addressed to Charlie. I don’t even bother telling Charlie’s mother to have her call me if she makes it home.

I get in my car and pull back onto the street.

Where the h.e.l.l is she?

I wait until I’m a few miles away and then I pull over to check her phone again. Landon mentioned he heard it ringing under the seat, so I lean over and reach my hand beneath the seat. I pull out an empty soda can, a shoe and then finally—her wallet. I open it and sift through it, but find nothing I don’t already know.

She’s somewhere out there, without her phone or her wallet. She doesn’t have anyone’s numbers memorized. If she didn’t come home, where would she have gone?

I punch the steering wheel. “Dammit, Silas!”

I should have never let her leave by herself.

This is all my fault.