Cryer's Cross

Chapter EIGHT

EIGHT

They find the car. It’s not in Bozeman. It’s parked at the school.

   And Nico’s not there.

   After a cursory search through the town and all around the school grounds, Nico’s parents start contacting everybody they can think of, asking if they’ve seen him.

   There is no sign of Nico Cruz.

Nico’s car engine is cold, and according to Sheriff Greenwood, there are no clues inside. Not in the car, or in the school. Still, they tape off everything as a precaution. After what happened with Tiffany Quinn, it’s never too soon to suspect a missing person. Everybody’s on edge.

* * *

When Kendall hears the news about the car, she runs the mile from her house to the school. The car looks so lonely sitting there, surrounded by onlookers. Air crushes her chest. She sinks to her knees, can’t catch her breath. People start crowding around her to see the car, the school . . . as if there is something to see. But there’s nothing. Just a car, a building. Yellow tape.

   “He could be fine,” someone says. “Maybe we’re all overreacting. He’s practically a grown man. Maybe he’s out for a hike.”

   “Maybe he’s hunting back in the woods.”

   “Maybe his car ran out of gas and he pulled in here.”

   “Yes, let’s not jump to conclusions.”

   But the other whispers are there too, growing louder. “Another one. What’s happening to our safe little town? All the children are disappearing.”

   Kendall tries, fails to tune them all out.

   It’s all she can do to just breathe. And count.

   Count breaths: thirty-six. Count stones in the dirt: more than fifty. Count people saying stupid things: all of them.

   Count all the days she’s known him: infinity.

Maybe he’ll be back before she’s done counting.

   Maybe not.

   * * *

The buzzing noise of the people grows louder and louder, and Kendall can’t think. She can’t count with so much distraction. She stands up and shoves through the crowd, screaming, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! All of you just shut up!” Tears blur everything.

   Someone grabs her sleeve. Blindly she whips her arm away and runs, runs like hell. Runs almost all the way home, until her feet can’t keep up with her and she plunges forward, down onto the gravel, shredding her palms and knees. And then she just lies there as a huge splash of hurt rips through her body, and she’s so grateful for the pain, because she can feel it. It lets something else loose. She sobs. There in the gravel on the side of the road in front of Nico’s farm, she sobs, under the old rusty mailbox where she used to put notes for him, grasshoppers and bees fly and buzz around her in a panic.

It’s not long before she hears feet crunching on the gravel. When the sound stops next to her, she lifts her head and looks up, squinting into the sun. Her lip starts quivering again. “Mom,” she says.

   “I couldn’t run quite as fast as you,” she says, “but at least you ran in the right direction.”

   Kendall slowly pushes herself up to her feet. Tries to wipe the gravel out of her hands and knees, but some of it’s stuck hard. She starts crying again and gives up as Mrs. Fletcher wraps her arms around the girl.