Prescient

Chapter 12

It wasn't hard to locate Marcy and Claire when I arrived at the shopping center.

They were exactly where I'd expected they would be; where I had looked for them on the other days, and just as I had done then, I almost walked straight back out of the shopping center doors the moment I entered.

The moment I saw all those people.

The urge to turn around and leave was much stronger today than it was on the other two days. Today there were lots more people there than earlier in the week.

I hate being around crowds. It's a thing I have.

Partially because of the noise; all the hustle and bustle frustrates me. Mostly because of the things I see, feel, and hear – the things I pick up on – that I don't want to know.

I always shop at the earliest possible time in the morning, or the latest time at night, to avoid being around lots of people. If I need something in the middle of the day, I go to a small convenience store, even if it does mean paying extra for the items I need.

Needless to say, I felt overwhelmed being in the midst of this huge shopping center on the busiest night of the week, and as I said, I almost bailed.

But I didn't.

I stayed.

And I found them outside the cinemas just like I thought I would.

Marcy and Claire were there with a couple of boys who seemed familiar, but I didn't exactly recognize them. Perhaps they had floated in and out of a Kaylah dream before – more than likely they went to school with the girls.

I could guarantee none of them were there to watch a movie. They rarely ever were. This was just the spot where the teens all went to hang out, chat, smoke cigarettes, and hook up with each other.

"Hi girls," I said, as I approached them with the friendliest smile I could muster. I have to admit, it was hard. I'm not a smiler.

At least this time I'd come prepared with a note pad, pen, and a picture of Kaylah I'd printed out for fifty cents at the local library on my way here. It wasn't hard to get one. I simply Googled her name and several popped up with online news stories of her disappearance.

The photo was slipped behind the cover of the pad and I now pulled it out. "You know this girl, don't you?"

Marcy and Claire exchanged a look between them, as if silently communicating with each other in the way teenage girls do. That look was them contemplating whether they should answer that question truthfully or not.

Whether to talk at all.

"Who are you?" Marcy asked, countering my question with one of her own.

Clever girl.

"My name is Libby Larken," I said. "I'm an investigative journalist for the Southern Star News, online magazine, and I'm working on a piece about the disappearance of this girl, Kaylah Haydens. It's going to be a big piece; big publicity. All over the net. I'd be grateful for any help from her friends."

The bullshit was flowing out smoothly, just as it had when I spoke to Camden, but unlike with him, I hoped these girls didn't see through said bullshit.

I went on.

"I'd be very willing to give credit in the article to those providing helpful info – or just leave names out altogether. Whatever you'd prefer."

The two girls gave each other another one of those telepathic, silent communicating looks while the two boys just stood there, leaning against the wall, waiting to hear something interesting.